That would just make him a hypocrite, too, wouldn’t it?
2
Michael didn’t know why he was in a car on the way to Wayward Media’s headquarters. His publicist had told him that appearing on a fucking podcast was the only way to stem the flow of bad publicity from his connection with the president. His platform was losing users by the thousands, and he’d become a meme. He’d never wanted to become a meme, much preferring to stay behind the scenes.
But, in the three days since Jake had mentioned him on the pod and blown up his spot, Michael had listened to nearly every hour that Jake had ever broadcast.
His last-ditch effort to save net neutrality had made keeping a low profile impossible, and now he had to talk about it with the sexiest guy he’d ever met. Alone. Jake Lieberman’s two dude-bro friends were not going to be a part of the conversation. Apparently, they had someone much more important to talk to today.
So, Michael would get about two minutes to explain himself to the million people who listened to the pod every week.
And he had to do it with a huge crush on the guy he was talking to. Fuck.
Jake was a couple inches shorter than him, and living in California appeared to agree with him. He’d leaned out compared with the pictures of him in the White House with the former president. In those photos, Jake had dark, piercing eyes that didn’t glint with the usual good-humor he’d shown in television appearances promoting his new company.
Michael had started out just watching one of Jake’s news segments at the urging of the publicist who’d thought this was a good fucking idea. Then, not being able to help himself, he’d watched every single clip of video footage available on the internet. Thus, the origin of the crush.
The one video had sent him down a rabbit hole. Every mention of Jake Lieberman in the news, every image, had become an obsession.
It wasn’t enough that Jake had to be so hot, he had to be funny and smart as fuck, too? Michael could properly say that he hadn’t had a crush in years, not since he’d first met Elliot, his ex-boyfriend. And now, he was majorly smitten with a guy set to take him down.
The car stopped in front of a nondescript building in Culver City. Michael hesitated before he got out of the car. He really should have considered doing this over the phone, but after he’d read every bit of information about Jake and his business partners online, he had to meet the guy in person.
Certainly, he wouldn’t be as arresting when they were sucking down the same air? The guy was way too much of a showman. He had to be awkward and aloof in person. The superhero pecs from the photos online had to be photoshopped, didn’t they? Wanting someone he’d never met wasn’t something Michael was used to, not since his youthful crush on Zac Efron; he usually just got with whichever hot guy was close by.
He got out of the black car and re-buttoned his suit coat. A crush. A motherfucking crush.
Jake liked the way Michael Garcia smelled. He smelled like expensive sex, and it was making it really hard to hate him on sight. If he were being honest with himself, Garcia could smell like Cheetos and still make Jake’s libido stand up and take notice.
As soon as the billionaire tech developer had walked into the studio, it was as though Jake forgot why net neutrality was so great anyway. If Michael was around, he certainly wouldn’t need porn to get off.
No, Michael Garcia was a walking wet dream, from his cultivated five-o’clock shadow that would scrape his thighs just right if he put his mouth on Jake’s cock, to the body that filled out a suit as if the Italian wool was just as turned on by him as Jake was. And, if he could tell anything by the way Michael’s flat-front pants strained over the other man’s lap, Jake wasn’t the only one affected.
Michael sat down and put on his headset, as indicated by their producer. Jake cleared his throat and did the same. He had to get his head in the game. If he wanted to make an ass of Garcia instead of himself, he’d have to forget that he wanted to taste those lips almost as much as he wanted his first Diet Coke in the morning.
After the producer counted them down, he forced himself to pretend that Michael was as odious as his actions this week. He blocked out the man’s clear, green eyes and those infernal fucking dimples before he spoke.
“Today on the pod, we have a raging hypocrite who sold his soul to be part of the cabal currently running our government.”
Michael’s gravel-tinged voice was like a stroke on the cock, and it forcibly opened his eyes. “I don’t think that’s fair, Jake.”
“I think that’s exactly fair.” Jake’s mouth was so dry that he didn’t know how he was going to get through the next five seconds, much less the next five minutes of conversation. “You decided that your financial interest was more important than your principals. I mean, you talk so much about a free internet and First Amendment principals, yet you’ve sold your soul to a man who attacks both of those things on a daily—sometimes hourly—basis.”
Michael looked down, perhaps in shame, and Jake had to fight the urge to walk back what he’d just said. Just looking at Michael, he could understand why he wanted to fuck the man despite the fact that he wasn’t a good person. But he couldn’t explain the tenderness he had for the dude two minutes after meeting him. Maybe it was because he’d served himself up for the kind of abuse that he knew Jake was fixing to shell out?
That thought made him wonder whether Michael’s libertine reputation was accurate. It had him dying to find out firsthand. Consequences be damned.
“I’m trying to save net neutrality. Not get rid of it.”
Jake had to react to that. “By joining a council that’s recommended to get rid of it? By turning into the president’s house gay?”
“I wanted to have a voice.” Michael rubbed his forehead. “The only people at the table when that decision was made were the ISPs.”
“But the end of net neutrality would be good for your business. It would keep competitors from being able to have a foothold.”
“And it would halt innovation in my own company. We’d be paying for access to customers who already want our product at the expense of developing new functionalities and ways to connect.”
Jake scoffed, his arousal cooling slightly. “That’s just what your PR flack told you to say.”
Michael leaned forward, and Jake’s heart picked up speed again. He was way too hot for someone so craven and evil. “If you’d done your research, you’d realize that none of my PR flack last long enough for me to rely on them for sound bites.”
He wondered if Michael’s libertine reputation was actually sinister. Did he have Weinstein-themed problems? “Oh really? You fuck them over like you fuck the American people on a regular basis?”
The other man’s mouth flattened to a grim line, and he bit out his next words. “I don’t fuck the payroll.”
“Then, why can’t you find a reliable talking head?”
“I never follow instructions.” So much filth popped into Jake’s head when he said that. So. Much. Filth. His brain shorted out for long moments, which extended into an awkward silence when Michael added, “I give them.”
Holy fuck, he was in so much trouble. Had he ever felt this way about someone he didn’t even know—someone he didn’t even like? The answer was no.
The current object of his lust leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin that Jake wanted to wipe off…with his tongue. So cocky and about to get owned for a million listeners. “By now you have to know that joining in on this cabal of corruption isn’t the way to actually get things done. The president is simply going to trot you out when it works to his advantage—maybe to point out that he’s the friend of at least one homosexual—and then he’s going to do whatever the swamp monsters he’s brought into his White House want to do with respect to net neutrality.” Jake paused to take a breath, but didn’t dare give Michael room to speak. Every time the man opened his mouth, it gave Jake very dangerous ideas. “He and his cronies are taking over media in an authoritarian coup.
You joining his tech council isn’t going to help anything.”
The grim, flat mouth was back, and they both knew there was nothing left to say. Jake had to admit that he admired the other man for presenting himself up for abuse instead of agreeing to call in. It spoke to him having more character than the content of their discussion would seem to suggest.
Despite the fact that they were destined to disagree, Jake liked Michael Garcia. He wished that they could find some common ground—and maybe a common bedroom—instead of coming to loggerheads over this issue.
It shocked the shit out of Michael when Jake said, “Want to grab a drink?”
At first, Michael wanted to refuse on principle. This man had just attempted to humiliate him with millions of people set to listen that same afternoon. No matter how fuckable his plush lips were and how much Michael wanted to bend Jake Lieberman over the nearest surface now that he’d spent time in his presence, it was a bad idea.
Michael had always controlled every aspect of his public image, for better or worse. It drove the other board members nuts, and they hated having to spend time and resources cleaning up after his—infrequent if consequential—messes. Like the time their new app crashed on the most popular phone on the market, repeatedly. That had been the worst week of his career—until this one.
He was considered a genius for a reason, but he was self-aware enough to know that he’d messed this decision up. And he couldn’t go back on it now. Appearing to bow to public pressure and step down from the council would be just as bad, if not worse, than joining in the first place. He couldn’t afford to appear weak, no matter how much sense Jake spoke.
That alone meant that he should turn down the drink. And Jake shouldn’t have invited him. Right now, at this point in time, no one respected public figures who disagreed on the issues but glad-handed in private. Being seen with Michael would be just as bad for Jake as it would be for him.
So maybe this wasn’t about that? Perhaps it was about the spark that Michael experienced around Jake. Maybe the other man was overwhelmingly drawn to him, too. Still, he wasn’t just a walking dick these days. At least, he was trying not to be. He had thousands of employees to think about. And he selfishly sort of loved being rich. He had properties all over the world he didn’t want to have to sell off if his company went belly-up. With billions of dollars in the bank—even more than the president—he still felt like he had when his parents had cut him off for coming out of the closet—as though one bad decision would leave him out on the streets.
“We shouldn’t be seen together.”
One of Jake’s brows went up, and he looked down at his t-shirt and jeans. “You only go for drinks with fancy guys, do you?”
Nothing further from the truth. Michael would like nothing better than to be in Jake’s pants right now. In every respect. “I just think the publicity would be bad.”
Jake stepped closer to him, and Michael inhaled the smell of his aftershave. Fucking delicious. If he reached out, he could grab him by the back of the neck and learn his taste. The studio was silly with surfaces soft enough for good sound and hard fucking. He could take him down to the floor and take care of the hard-on turning his mind to jelly.
The quick breaths and flushed cheeks on the man told Michael that he was considering the same universe of possibilities. His dark eyes had a desirous sheen that said he wanted him just as much. The moment hung there between them for three beats, four—until the sound engineer came back in.
“Teddy’s off his call, and you guys need to do the ad reads for the show.”
Michael stepped back and looked down. Just as well that they didn’t even kiss. It wouldn’t stop Michael from jacking off to Jake’s insanely sexy mouth, but going further would be ruinous. He couldn’t forget that he didn’t like and couldn’t trust this man.
Their chemistry was explosive, but that was the kind of connection that had so often blown up in his face. The same kind of gut-level want he’d had for Elliot. And, after he’d come out to his parents, he’d lost Elliot and his family.
If it hadn’t been for his best friend, he would have dropped out of school and ended up on the streets. She’d encouraged him to create his first app, which had paid for the rest of his schooling and ultimately led to this room, with this man, today.
Maybe it meant that he’d finally come full circle, that he could say no to a man who stirred him up as much as Jake?
“I’ll meet you at your hotel at seven?”
Michael’s gaze snapped back to Jake’s. He’d been expecting the other man to let the moment pass, but Jake was full of surprises. Surprises that made Michael’s curiosity and libido win out over his good sense.
“I’m staying in the presidential suite.”
“Figures.” Jake laughed. “I’ll see you at seven.”
3
Riding up the elevator at the Beverly Wilshire on his way to meet a man he was devastatingly attracted to for “drinks” made Jake feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. It wasn’t just the fact that sex was—at least implicitly—on the table. It was the sneaking suspicion that he was selling out.
It wasn’t as though he’d never sold out his values before. He’d enthusiastically signed on to the 2008 campaign even though his boss hadn’t come out for marriage equality. He was smart enough to realize that the country—at least the people they needed the votes from—hadn’t been ready for a president pushing for gay marriage.
And then they’d pushed for almost two years on a health care bill that was far from perfect in its final form. Personally, Jake thought a public option or single-payer model was the right direction. But the senators they’d counted and whipped and pressed hadn’t been willing to go there.
Both times, the greater good had been more important than his own, personal reservations. But tonight was different. The thing he wanted—Michael’s cock and his mouth and his hands—was in direct opposition to the greater good.
Jake gave great head, but he held no illusions over the influence of sex on men like Michael Garcia. The guy exuded power from his completely invisible pores. And he had the billions to back it up.
Although he was proud of what he and his partners had built together—they’d made millions of dollars on ads and touring—Jake was nothing but a gadfly. Once this moment passed, who knew if their business would be viable? If people stopped having to take to the streets or tying up congressional phone lines, would they care if Jake came up with a funny quip a minute about the current political scandal?
If people were able to get back to their regular lives, and reality television left politics, Jake would be relieved. But he’d also be at loose ends. As much as he and his partners joked about becoming moguls, everything could disappear at any moment.
Michael, on the other hand, had reshaped the way people lived their daily lives. Down to a person, there wasn’t anyone who didn’t use one of his company’s products in the course of a morning. Regardless of whether net neutrality survived, Michael would, which meant that he and Jake were not equals. They never would be.
And the dynamic made Jake feel dirty. As though he was selling out in a way he couldn’t justify. Not to his partners and not to himself. Still, he pulsed with want for the enigmatic power broker.
The elevator doors opened into the suite. About to press the button to return to the lobby when Michael appeared, Jake stepped into the room. They’d remodeled since the early nineties, and Michael wasn’t tacky enough to have champagne cooling in a bucket and a bowl of strawberries.
Instead, he held a scotch in one hand and Jake’s favorite brand of—domestic, cheap—beer in the other. The fact that he’d clearly done some research and the way his golden skin showed where he’d undone several buttons of his very expensive shirt made his decision surprisingly easy.
Part of Jake wanted to drop to his knees and suck Michael off while he enjoyed his scotch, right in the foyer of the suite. A big part.
The smile that spread across Michael�
��s face told him that the other man was thinking the same thing. For a moment, Jake wondered if he’d order him to act out their likely shared fantasies right then.
“This is still your favorite, right?” A hint of vulnerability endeared him even more.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes.”
As he took the beer from Michael, their fingers touched and Jake’s knees wobbled. Michael motioned to the couch in the living room of the suite. Thank fuck there wasn’t a bed in his eyeline. If there had been, Jake didn’t really think he’d be able to speak.
Jake sat down, expecting Michael to stretch out in the armchair opposite him. Instead, the other man sat next to him on the couch. If he spread his long legs, their knees would touch. Almost as if magnified, he did just that. Michael had to have noticed him jolt on contact, because a smile spread across his handsome features, making him look younger. And, unfortunately for Jake, even more attractive.
He took a pull of his beer, and Michael mirrored him, making the moment even more intimate. Why had he insisted on drinks? Alone? With a man who looked and walked and smelled like sex?
Things in his life had been going so well that of course he had to screw it up. That had to be what this whole thing was about. Right now, he ought to get up and leave. Thank him for the beer and take off. It didn’t matter that Michael would probably think he was nuts. He likely already did.
“I should go.” But he didn’t move.
Michael leaned forward and put his hand on Jake’s knee. “Do you really want to do that?”
Jake shook his head.
“Why did you want to have drinks if you were just going to run away?” Michael took a sip of his scotch, and a drop lingered on his lower lip. Jake had to fight his urge to suck that droplet of liquor off. His willpower held, but just, when he continued to talk. “For the record, I don’t think this is a great idea either.”
Rogue Acts Page 9