by Amy Brent
Eight months into their official launch, they were trying to figure out how to ship overseas, and from there the rest is history. One hundred and fifty-seven million in flat-out revenue for their first year, and they’d only begun to scratch the surface.
It was absolutely incredible, and it was something that most definitely affected Dallas.
But those piercing green eyes and that muscular body. It was almost disarming how sexy this man was. Angie was finishing up my makeup while everyone started bustling around me, and that’s when I heard someone say it in the distance.
I heard them whisper that Mason Baker was here.
I knew I was going to nail this interview. I always did. But never had I found anyone I’d interviewed this hot. I mean, I could feel my pussy heating up for crying out loud. That was beyond unprofessional, and it wasn’t a road I was willing to travel down again, not after I’d caught my ex-boyfriend making out with who was now my ex-host.
It really wasn’t a big deal. I’d gotten the bitch fired within five minutes of figuring it out. Then, I took to kindly blasting them on social media. I made it apparent that the show does not tolerate unprofessional behavior of any kind, especially when it hurts multiple people involved. I told my fans that I’d interviewed senators and mayors and governors caught in scandals where they’d cheated on their spouses, and I took those accusations seriously. I used the moment as a platform to take a stand against men who manipulated, abused, cheated, and otherwise dealt anything else less than full respect to women they claimed to love.
Especially after what I’d endured in high school.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah, Ang?”
“You’ve got about ten minutes. You okay?” she asked.
I double-checked my makeup in the mirror before I gave her a confident smile. I stood from my chair and embraced her, pulling her close to me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in this town, and I would always respect her and love her for allowing me to talk to her before every single show I did.
“You know I appreciate you, right?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. I know,” she said. “I just have to remember not to make out with your boyfriends. I quite like my job.”
We giggled one last time before I shook my head at her. I walked out of the room and down the hallway, smoothing out my outfit one last time. I got to the entrance of the stage as they were running the intro to the show, and then it was time for me to take my place on stage.
I walked up to the middle of the stage as the crowd cheered. Cameras panned around me, and I waved to the audience. Then, I made eyes with Camera 3 as it panned around me. I waved to my at-home audience and blew them a kiss like I did every show. I drew in a deep breath and started the opening I’d rehearsed in the makeup room.
“Good afternoon, Dallas. How’s everybody doing?”
The crowd of people erupted into cheers as I clapped for joy.
“Today, we have a very special guest here with us. Mason Baker, branded in the media as the second-coming of Steve Jobs himself, will be here with us today sharing his story, his success, and his secrets. Stick around because it’s going to be a doozy.”
I walked back to my chair and took a sip of water while the credits for our sponsors rolled, and it gave me just enough time to fluff my hair before the camera was back on me.
“I could go on and on about the man standing backstage, but something tells me he wants to do that himself,” I said, winking. “Without further delay, welcome into your homes Mason Baker.”
I stood from my chair as I watched him come out from behind the screen. He was even taller in person, standing at a looming six-foot-four. His beaming white smile contrasted with his tan skin wonderfully, making his peridot eyes sparkle more than ever. His thick, luscious mane of dark hair was parted to one side, combed back expertly as his gray suit tailored itself to every curve and dip of his strong, throbbing muscles. He shook my hand, his palm dwarfing me, and for a second, I could’ve sworn he winked at me.
“Mr. Baker, thank you for your time. I’m so glad you could be with us,” I said as I sat down.
“It’s a pleasure. Anything I can do to educate the city of Dallas is all right by me,” he said.
The crowd whooped and hollered at his statement while I simply shook my head.
“So, tell us a bit about this product. How in the world did you come up with a concept like this?” I asked.
“To be honest, I can never find my wallet. Ever. And I got sick and tired of hunting it down at the last minute only for it to make me late. I tried going online and finding something that could work, but everything on the market was subpar.”
“Define subpar,” I said.
“Products were either not reliable, only detected a product within fifty feet of the base, or was simply too bulky to do anything with,” he said.
“Never in my life did I ever think too bulky could be a bad thing,” I said, grinning.
“Depends on where the bulk sits, I suppose,” he said.
I felt his eyes heavily on me, and it took everything I had to keep pushing through the interview. I could feel a flush creeping up my neck, threatening to burst forth on my cheeks and destroy the professionalism of this interview.
“So you created a social media campaign,” I said. “Did you have a prototype when you created it?”
“Nope. Just some designs, schematics, and an incredibly detailed professional video of how the technology was supposed to work.”
“And by professional you mean …?”
“Me sitting in front of a camera and stuttering out my idea,” he said, grinning.
Laughter trickled through the audience again as I shook my head.
“Mr. Baker—”
“Please, call me Mason,” he said.
“Mason,” I corrected, “did you ever think it could become this big of a success?”
“No. Not in a million years. I just wanted to find my wallet, and that was it. Even if I made this product and was the only one who used it, at least I’d solved my problem. But apparently, people lose things all the time.”
“Have you ever gotten any reviews about the product where someone had stuck your product on something odd?” I asked.
“Define odd,” he said, smirking.
“You have a list of items on the back of the packaging. Everything from phones to children’s backpacks. Anything not on this list you’ve heard of your product being used on?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’m not sure they’re very appropriate for a daytime talk show,” he said.
I quirked my eyebrow, wholly curious as to what he was talking about.
“Sounds mysterious.”
“I think you’d enjoy it. Maybe I could tell you after the show,” he said, grinning.
“What do you attribute your success to?” I wasn’t about to travel down that road. I’d sworn off men the moment I caught my ex-host slobbering all over the man I had been dating at the time. I was over playboys and their innocent facades. Mason didn’t even make the attempt to be innocent. His playboy ways were known, especially the scandals that were already surfacing in the media.
“Myself and Tony,” he said.
“You mean Anthony Thomas,” I said.
“Yes. He and I co-own the company. I went to many people with the idea, and he was the only one who supported it,” he said.
“What about your parents?” I asked.
For a split second, he paused. It was a blip on the radar. A momentary lapse where I realized I’d asked a question that delved into a part of his life he probably didn’t want to talk about.
But now the question was out there, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“My father supported it like he’s supported all things in my life, but Tony was the one willing to get in on the action and help me do something about it.”
I knew enough about bad familial situations to not press why he didn’t mention his own mother. Though I had to
admit, I was curious.
“So, the infamous question. Does this affect Dallas?” I asked.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” he asked as he crossed one long leg over the other.
“I think it most certainly does. Texas is in the heart of child abduction country. We are surrounded by states known for trafficking children, both into Mexico and back up into the States. It’s a rampant problem that doesn’t get enough attention, and I believe your product could really raise awareness about it.”
“I didn’t know that about this area of the country,” he said. “I’ll definitely have to look into it.”
“You should. This is why I think your product is brilliant.”
“Brilliant, huh?” he asked, grinning.
“Yes. Because of the way the technology radios out to cell towers, you can clock wherever this device goes so long as you have it programmed into the application you download. I could see hundreds of uses for this product in law enforcement, the military, and in general, keeping the public safe. Especially our children.”
I felt his eyes hard on me as I leaned back into my seat. I was getting too personal. Too emotional. I had to reign it in before we took our last commercial break.
“Mason Baker, thank you so much for being here with us,” I said as I stuck out my hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you,” he said as he took my hand.
The electricity that shot up my arm made me grateful that I was wearing a jacket.
Chapter 2
Mason
Holy fuck, Sarah Williams was much hotter in person. Those perfectly pouty lips and that cute little button nose and those dark-rimmed glasses that framed those dark blue eyes. Hell, I had a very hard time focusing on that interview. Her legs were long and thick, the way I liked them on a woman. I wanted a woman who enjoyed her cheeseburger before she burned off the calories riding my cock. And that shoulder-length black hair? Fucking hell, I had to take deep breaths during all the commercial breaks to keep my cock at bay.
I could tell the way she was staring at me all through the interview, and while she thought she held her blush back perfectly, she really didn’t. I got the perfect glimpse of her milky skin reddening at my little comment at the beginning of the show. The more I talked and the more her eyes raked over me, the more her pupils dilated, and it only confirmed that the lust I felt for her was reciprocated.
I wanted her, and I always got what I wanted.
She shook my hand after the show, taking a picture with me she would no doubt use to promote the show when it aired. My hand descended into the slope of her waist, my fingertips pressing into the slight excess that coated her body. She was soft underneath my fingertips. Warm to the touch. Her head barely came up to my chest, the perfect height for getting down on those powerful knees of hers and sucking the life out of my cock.
I thanked her for her time, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss before I watched her hips sway in her skirt as she walked off.
Fuck, that woman was sexy.
I left my information with her assistant. I knew I’d hear from her. They always called. Once they felt the brush of Mason Baker’s lips against their skin, all they wanted to know was what they would feel like pressing against their bodies. She was probably wondering what my lips would feel like in between her legs as her thick thighs glistened with her luscious juices.
She didn’t have to worry, though, because I wanted to taste her on the tip of my tongue.
No woman had denied me before, but they certainly didn’t deny me now. I was known for the size of my cock as well as my attentiveness in bed. When you’re good at something, you do it to the best of your ability. My father had taught me that. He told me growing up that I wouldn’t get anywhere in life being mediocre at a talent I was given. At the time, I was good with my tongue, so I used it. Then my cock grew, a gift given to me by the gods themselves, so I learned how to use it well.
Then, I found my passion in technology and programming, so I studied to be the best.
And now? I was rich. Filthy rich. And famous. Disgustingly famous. Now, women could have it all with me. Money. Cars. Jewelry. Vacation homes. Pussy-licking orgasms that rendered them speechless as well as a cock they could feel in their throat the moment I staked their hips onto mine.
Yep. I’d be hearing from Sarah Williams very soon indeed.
I buttoned my coat up and waved to the paparazzi waiting for me at the door. I climbed into my car and told the driver to take me to Al Biernat’s. I was meeting Tony for a decent lunch so we could talk about the interview and where we were going from here. Tony and I tag-teamed the interviews. I did some so he could rest, then he did some so I could rest. I did the more high-end and upscale interviews, and the lower-level ones that simply wanted information on the product Tony did. He didn’t want to be the face of the company, which was fine with me.
I adored being the ever-so-handsome face of our growing technological empire.
I walked into the restaurant and found Tony, watching him rise from his seat as we embraced one another in a hug. I heard a few people gasping and snapping pictures, but the general manager soon came over and told them to cut it out.
“Let’s make a donation to this place, shall we?” I asked.
“You liked that the men told them to shut up, didn’t you?” Tony asked.
“We need some privacy somewhere. They should be rewarded for going over the top,” I said.
“Donation noted. How did the interview go?”
“It went really well. It wasn’t a live interview, so I’m not sure what’ll be edited out, but Sarah Williams isn’t known for doctoring up her interviews to meet a specific agenda,” I said.
“That’s good. We’ve run into a few issues with that, especially with the syndicates that are harping on your lawsuits.”
“Are we really talking about those again? Look, the woman who accused me of harassment was lying. We proved that. The other woman, the one I supposedly had gotten pregnant? Never even seen her. She submitted to a paternity test. I went along with it to prove my innocence, and the charges were dropped because the kid’s not mine. What gives?” I asked.
“You know there are people out there who don’t care that the charges were dismissed. We have to do damage control on your image as much as we can.”
“If you’re asking me to not date in the public eye, sorry,” I said.
“If you could tone it down a bit, that would be nice,” he said.
“Not a chance. Look, there are three things in life I love, a good slab of steak, a good slab of technology, and a good slab of woman. We didn’t work our asses off for a hundred and fifty-seven million in revenue to hide and cower away. We’re working hard, and we deserve to play hard.”
“Even at the risk of tanking your image?” he asked.
“What image? Look, all of this is going to blow over. We’re going to go these interviews, we’re going to tell the truth, we’re going to let our beautiful P.R. woman handle the bad press, and we’re going to keep making our product better than ever. Which reminds me, we need to look into the child abduction rates in this part of the country.”
“Why? Thinking about branching out into child protection?” he asked.
“It was just something Sarah brought up in the interview,” I said. “Have someone look into it.”
“Uh huh,” he said. “So, we’re on a first-name basis now?”
“Anyone who’s that hot in person is automatically on a first name basis,” I said, winking.
“And there it is,” Tony said.
“What? What did I do?”
“You left your information with her assistant, didn’t you?” he asked.
“So what if I did?”
“Dude. Mason. All right. That’s the first decent interview you’ve given in three weeks. She didn’t ask you about the lawsuits, right?”
“Nope. Not one peep about ‘em,” I said.
“Then don’t cock it up
.”
“But cocking women up is so much fun,” I said, grinning.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. I was waiting for the two of you to finish up, so I wanted to bring an appetizer the chef’s trying out for the new summer menu. Enjoy,” the waiter said.
“Well, tell the chef I said thank you, and we’re ready to order. You ready to order?” I asked.
“Yes. I would like the six-ounce lunch steak, medium rare, with freshly steamed broccoli and the mushroom risotto,” Tony said.
“And I would like the filet mignon, rare, with the steamed broccoli as well and what the hell the chef’s macaroni and cheese. Haven’t had a decent one in quite a while.”
“The chef’s macaroni is excellent. I believe you will enjoy it,” the waiter said. “Would the two of you care for another glass of red wine?”
“I think I’ll just stick with water now, thank you,” I said.
“And I wouldn’t mind a sweet tea,” Tony said.
“Sweet tea? Really?”
“You gotta try it. It’s awesome,” he said.
“Coming right up,” the waiter said.
“So, anyway, back to cocking up women.”
“No. No, you maniac,” he said. “The dude in me is going ‘hell yeah. Get it, dude.’ But the professional in me is telling you to cool your pipes until we can restore your image a bit.”