by Amy Brent
“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.”
“What if I’m not seen in public with her? How does that sound?”
“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do, Mason. Stop being seen in public with a new woman every damn day. Dick around all you want, but stop flaunting it until the media cools down,” he said.
“Fine, fine, fine.”
“That fake pregnancy scandal was only resolved, like, two weeks ago, man,” he said.
“I hear you. I get it. I’ll keep it out of the limelight for now,” I said.
“You’re not going to do a damn thing I say, are you?” he asked.
“I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”
“Said the overgrown man-child who can’t keep his dick in check.”
“I’m not going to ruin my image any further, I promise. And if it happens, we’re paying that PR woman a very nice salary to keep her on retainer. What’s the point if we don’t use her?”
A grin crossed my face as my thoughts flew back to those long, slender legs. Not really enough meat for me, but she’d been good for one little desperate romp.
“Don’t you even think about it,” Tony said. “Staff and people we employ are off limits.”
“That your way of saying you approve of Sarah and me, Daddy?” I asked mockingly.
“Eat your fucking food and shut up,” he said.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, grinning.
Chapter 3
Sarah
I took a few pictures with Mason Baker that would eventually be used to promote his segment. The fans loved seeing this type of backstage stuff on my social media accounts, and anything I could do to cater to them, I would. I felt like we touched on a wide variety of topics that would help promote a product in the Dallas area I thought could do this part of the country some good, so I wanted people to watch.
I wanted people to be educated.
I went home and fell asleep with nothing more on my mind. A few images of Mason popped into my head but nothing substantial. I woke up that morning ready for my next interview and looking forward to my next talk show.
That was my life, really. Sleeping, eating, promoting, talking, then destressing after a long day. I didn’t have time for much.
Especially with regard to tall, handsome playboys with their crispy little grins.
I walked back into my dressing room and promptly sat down on the couch. My head was swimming with Mason’s sharp green eyes, even though I’d just conducted an interview with a local woman who had been adopting terminally ill children. He knew what he had done. The sly comments and the little grins in the interview yesterday. He knew he had been getting to me, and something about that excited me. There was something about a man with confidence who took what he wanted, no questions asked. I could sympathize because I was the same way. Bold. Blunt. Independent. Self-made. I had a talent and a passion, and I found a way to peddle that to the masses.
Just like he had.
A knock came at my door, and I simply didn’t answer it. My assistant knew that if I didn’t answer and it wasn’t important, to simply leave it be. Removing my glasses, I clasped the bridge of my nose, trying to rid myself of the beautiful way his body seemed to loom over me and the way his soothing voice ran down the edges of my skin and the way his hand had felt in the dip of my waist.
I heard my assistant slide a note underneath the door, and it caught my attention. It obviously wasn’t important, but it was pertinent enough for her to risk a note. I got up from the couch and strode over to the door, picking up the piece of paper off the floor. Expecting to find a note, I was shocked when I opened it up and saw eight numbers all in a row with Mason’s signature beneath it.
I was holding Mason Baker’s telephone number.
Why hadn’t she given this to me yesterday after the interview? When had she received it? If he called down here to leave his number, why didn’t he simply ask for me? If he had the money to get my assistant’s number, then he surely had the means to get mine.
Why the fuck did I care?
I honestly didn’t know what to do with it. I wasn’t an idiot, so I knew about the scandals from the woman who’d accused him of sexual harassment and the woman who claimed to be pregnant by him. The baby was shown not to be his and the sexual harassment lawsuit fell apart when it was found the woman was lying, but the man did have a great deal of money.
And money got you many things in the court system nowadays.
At any rate, why in the world was he trying to snag another woman? That fake pregnancy scandal was only, like, two fucking weeks old. How tacky was that? Oh, the baby’s not mine, time to hop on the train and fuck another bitch? What kind of game did he think he was playing?