by L. A. Witt
Why I even tried to fight it, I had no idea. No amount of telling myself we should be anywhere but here, doing anything but this, would do a damned bit of good when Jesse’s fingers were in my hair and his breath rushed across my cheek like that. We’d found a tiny pocket of time and a dark, deserted place to be alone, and there was no turning back now. Even the most gentle touches—a trembling fingertip along the side of his neck, his palm warming my jaw—were alive with the primal, all-the-way-to-the-core hunger that had driven me insane the last few weeks.
I needed him. I needed him every way I could have him, and then I needed to have him all over again until I couldn’t take another minute. Kissing him desperately, breathlessly, I mentally calculated how much space there was in the backseat, what position we could get into that allowed me to fuck him good and hard, that gave me enough room to get the condom and—
Condom. Crap.
I broke the kiss again. “I don’t suppose you have any condoms with you?”
The sharp, whispered curse that escaped his lips brought a whole string of profanity to mine.
I touched my forehead to his. “Goddamn it. Jesse, I want you so, so fucking bad…”
“It’s mutual, believe me,” he murmured, letting his lips brush mine as he spoke. He slid a little closer, as much as the console allowed, and I gasped when his hand warmed the inside of my thigh. Before I could speak, he cupped my painfully hard cock, and I forgot how to breathe.
“We can’t fuck,” he whispered, “but I can’t go anywhere until we…until we get…” He paused to kiss me. “I need something more than just kissing you, Anthony.”
I shuddered, and in spite of the way he stroked me—slowly, deliciously, perfectly—through my pants, I finally managed to get some air into my lungs. “So do I, believe me.”
A shiver pushed him closer to me, and he squeezed my cock just enough to drive a moan from my lips.
“Let me…let…” He kissed me lightly. “I…fuck, I can’t even talk…”
Neither could I. Especially not when his fingers followed my zipper up to the pull. As he drew my zipper down, a jolt made of equal parts panic and arousal lifted my spine off the back of the seat.
I grabbed his wrist. “Jesse, someone could—”
“Let them catch us,” he growled and claimed a deep, nonnegotiable kiss. With a few quick, expert motions, he had my belt unbuckled and the top button of my pants undone, and I groaned into his kiss as his warm fingers closed around my cock.
His touch turned me on, but his boldness bordering on aggression intoxicated me. He wasn’t intimidated now. Not by me, not by the potential fallout if we got caught. Jesse had never struck me as a wimp, but holy fuck, this sexual fearlessness drove me wild.
Then he pushed me back against the seat, and before I could make sense of a damned thing, his silhouette disappeared into the darkness and his mouth was around my cock.
“Oh…God…” I found his hair and held on to it for dear life, my hand rising and falling in time with the up-and-down motion of his head. “Fuck, Jesse, where did you learn to do that?”
He made a soft sound, one that might have been a moan or a subdued laugh, and his voice thrummed against my cock. I squirmed and gasped for breath as he stroked me with one hand, following with his lips and tongue. Then he stopped to tease the head of my cock with his tongue, still stroking with his hand while his mouth concentrated there, until I was a breath away from losing it. He went back to sliding his lips and tongue up and down the shaft in time with his hand, and I swore he knew exactly how I liked it. Where to flick his tongue, when to squeeze, when to release…
“Oh God. Oh God, Jesse…”
Fuck, even if I hadn’t been wound up from weeks of needing him, I’d have had to fight to keep myself from coming. As it was, I gripped the headrest in one hand, his hair in the other, and screwed my eyes shut as I dug my teeth into my lip.
All at once, the darkness shattered into shards of silver-white light, and I lost it, and he didn’t stop, and he stroked and sucked my cock as shock wave upon shock wave of pure electricity shot through me. I whimpered as my orgasm tapered, and when I collapsed against the seat, Jesse sat up, the shadowy impression of his hand moving toward his face like he’d reached up to wipe his mouth cementing the reality of what had just happened.
I reached through the darkness, found his shirt, and dragged him to me. We met over the console just like we had when he’d first pulled over, and wrapped our arms around each other.
His kiss was salty and aggressive, both of us panting as we demanded access to each other’s mouths. Even that postorgasmic lethargy couldn’t make me back down, and I kissed him just as desperately as I had earlier. Oh, he’d satisfied me, all right, but now I wanted more.
Jesse touched his forehead to mine. “I’ve been fucking dying to do this,” he breathed, trailing unsteady fingertips down the side of my face.
“We’re not done yet,” I slurred.
“We should get back on the road.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “They’ll start wondering where we are.”
“I know, but I—”
Headlights came through the rear window, and we both looked back.
“Shit,” Jesse muttered. We jerked apart and returned to our respective seats, and he quickly started the engine.
Watching the headlights approaching in the rearview, I fixed my clothes, and I wasn’t the only one to release a relieved breath as a weathered old station wagon lumbered past us. It disappeared down the winding road, and as the red glow of its taillights faded, Jesse put the car in drive.
“I suppose we should get out of here anyway,” he said.
“Probably.”
He made a U-turn, spinning the tires on the loose gravel. Then he burned rubber and peeled out onto the road, and once he was back on the highway, the glowing red needle made a rapid arc around the first half of the speedometer as he made up for lost time. I wondered if he had the same irrational fear I did, that upon our arrival, Roger and the other staffers would scowl at their watches and wonder—know!—why we were ten minutes later than we should have been. Ten minutes that could be explained with stopping for gas, food, stretching legs, buying shit souvenirs from some roadside tourist rip-off shop. They would never suspect a thing, but I couldn’t deny being a little relieved that Jesse drove faster now. Anything to cover up that guilty ten-minute stop.
Still I said, “You know a speeding ticket won’t look good.” Fuck, how was I still out of breath?
“I’ll take my chances.” He looked at me, and the dashboard lights threw a faint turquoise glow across his features. “And that?” He gestured behind us. “That was worth any speeding ticket I might get.”
“I won’t argue with that.” I slid my hand over his knee again. “I promise you, I will return the favor.”
He glanced at me in the darkness. “When?”
I couldn’t help grinning, wondering if he noticed the shiver as I whispered, “Soon.”
* * * *
“I’d like to propose a toast.” Roger stood at the end of the table, raising his glass of red wine. “To the official Democratic nominee for governor of the state of California.”
Everyone at the table—Jesse’s family mostly—raised their glasses, and his brother clapped his shoulder as Jesse’s cheeks colored.
“Come on,” Chris said, elbowing him. “How about a speech?”
“No.” Laughing, Jesse put up his hands and shook his head. “I’ve given enough speeches. Just this one night, I’ll pass.”
The rest of the group laughed, and Roger nodded. “Well, I suppose he has earned his keep. Congratulations, Jesse. You’ve done your family proud.”
“The election isn’t over yet,” Jesse’s father, Michael, said.
“Thanks, Dad,” Jesse said through his teeth.
They exchanged tense, tight-lipped smiles across the table.
“Well,” I said, “just getting nominated is always an honor, even if he does
n’t win.” I threw Michael a pointed look. “Right?”
He of the three Oscar nominations glared back at me. On the other side of the table, Simone and Chris, both of whom had actually won their Oscars, laughed behind their hands.
Michael muttered something I couldn’t hear, and reached for his drink. I forced myself to keep a straight face. Jesse glanced at me, snickered, and picked up his own drink.
“Don’t let all this success go to your head, kid,” Roger continued. “Not yet, anyway. I wouldn’t have expected any less than a landslide against those idiots. But Casey?” He shook his head. “You’re going to have to fight for that one.”
Jesse just smiled and raised his glass in a mock toast. “Well, that’s why I have Anthony on board, isn’t it?”
Our eyes met, and we both laughed but quickly shifted our gazes away.
“Speaking of whom,” Roger said. “Let’s not forget that behind every candidate is a campaign manager.”
God, I wish…
Oblivious to my impure thoughts, Jesse’s uncle gestured at me and went on. “So I’d also like to acknowledge Anthony Hunter, who has worked tirelessly to manage my nephew’s heretofore successful campaign.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks as everyone at the table clapped politely. I’d never been fond of the spotlight, even in settings like this, and with the thoughts going through my head right now, the center of attention was the last thing I wanted to be. Not that anyone could realistically read my mind and know how badly I wanted to bend Jesse over this table, but that didn’t stop my heart from pounding.
Roger finished his characteristically lengthy speech, and the family toasted Jesse. From then on, dinner was a relaxed, casual affair, with every conversation revolving around the one man I couldn’t get out of my head. For weeks, Jesse and I had survived on stolen kisses and that one amazing back-road blowjob. Everywhere we went, someone was watching or might be watching or expected us somewhere else, and no matter what we did, we could not get time alone. I’d fucked him a hundred times over in my mind, something my right elbow could attest to, but in reality I had yet to get him into bed.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye. This campaign was about to shift gears to a degree of grueling Jesse probably couldn’t even fathom. There’d be less downtime. More media scrutiny.
Less privacy.
Less opportunity.
Jesse glanced at me, locking eyes for a split second before he turned his attention back to a conversation with his uncle.
I shifted my own gaze away and took a long drink. When my mouth had gone dry, I couldn’t say, but a deep swallow of champagne didn’t help at all. After tonight, the odds of getting Jesse alone for any length of time, in any kind of setting where we could finally do something about all this maddening tension, would decrease exponentially.
Which left us with…tonight.
Now or never, Anthony.
Before I realized what I was doing, I reached for my back pocket. As my fingertips met the edge of my pack of cigarettes, I paused.
Okay, now or never, but after one cigarette.
I pushed my chair back. “If you’ll all excuse me for a few minutes, I’m going to step outside.”
No one objected, and Jesse only offered the most fleeting glance, so I made a quick escape to the stairwell leading up to the rooftop terrace.
California’s ever-tightening antismoking laws made it difficult as all hell for restaurants to accommodate horrible human beings like myself who still bowed to the nicotine gods. This place, however, had set aside one half of the terrace as a smoking section. Several concrete and metal sculptures formed a wall between the two halves, keeping the offensive fumes away from those who preferred their smog unseasoned.
A chest-high railing encased the terrace, and I leaned on that railing instead of taking one of the unoccupied umbrella-sheltered tables, though I did swipe an ashtray off one. Resting my forearms on the twisted wrought-iron bar, I stared out at the setting sun, loosely clasping my fingers together to keep my cigarettes from tumbling to the pavement three stories below me. The nicotine craving still simmered beneath the surface, unsatisfied and unwilling to be ignored forever, but at least for a minute or two, I was content to breathe in the evening air. To catch my breath, I realized, as I took in one deep lungful after the other. Even the champagne couldn’t relax me tonight. Nor could the knowledge that Jesse had cleared one of the major hurdles between him and a victory in November.
About that cigarette…
I pulled one out, pocketed the pack, and withdrew my lighter. As I took a drag, a set of approaching footsteps fell into sync with my heartbeat. Closing my eyes, I pushed out a smoky breath, and suddenly there wasn’t nearly enough nicotine in my possession to calm me down.
“You know,” Jesse said, his voice reverberating down the length of my spine, “sometimes I wonder if smokers aren’t really addicted.”
I took another drag, then turned just as he leaned against the railing a little more than arm’s length away from me.
“Is that so?” I asked.
He nodded, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Seems like an awfully convenient excuse to step out of stuffy, uncomfortable social affairs.”
I laughed and gestured with the cigarette. “Well, it certainly is a convenient habit for things like that.”
“Maybe I’ll have to start,” he said.
“I’ve got plenty if you want one.”
Jesse laughed and put up a hand. “No, no, I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrugged and pulled in another breath of smoke. Now that he was out here, I’d probably need a second one. Especially if I stood a chance of proposing we get the fuck out of here and go somewhere we wouldn’t go if we knew what was good for us and this campaign.
Oblivious to my nerves, he said, “Did you see the look on Dad’s face when you made the nomination comment?” He chuckled. “That swipe was well played.”
“Maybe a little impolite,” I said, trying not to look too smug.
He shrugged. “Fuck him. He could’ve kept his mouth shut.”
I watched Jesse for a moment, searching his expression through the thin cloud of smoke. He was more relaxed now, away from his father, but obviously didn’t like this subject. With people around us, though, it was a safer topic than the one I really wanted to discuss, so as I raised my cigarette to my lips, I said, “You and your dad don’t have a great relationship, then?”
Jesse rested his elbow on the railing. “You’ve heard what the papers say.”
“Yeah.” I tapped my cigarette into the ashtray. “But I also know the papers are full of shit most of the time.”
He laughed drily. “Yeah, well, when it comes to Dad and me, they’re pretty much right on the money.”
“What happened?” I asked. “I mean, have you guys always been this way?”
“We’ve always been this way. I don’t think Dad ever wanted kids with Mom, so…” He blew out a breath. “I think he always resented the fact that I tied him to her.”
“Nice guy,” I muttered.
“Tell me about it.” He stared out at the night sky. “Then of course it got around that he wasn’t interested in his kid, and after Mom died, he got custody, and I guess he didn’t want people thinking he was a complete deadbeat. So he ‘got involved’”—Jesse made air quotes—“in my life and tried to at least look like a father.”
“That why he got you started acting?”
Jesse nodded. “I guess he thought it was something we could do together. Some sort of father-son bonding bullshit.” He laughed humorlessly. “That worked well. My brothers are cut out for it. Me?” He whistled and shook his head. “No. Not even a little.”
I laughed softly and smothered my cigarette. I’d seen one of Jesse’s movies and heard about the other two. No sense making any comments; there was nothing I could say that the critics hadn’t already said with considerably less tact.
I put another cigarette between m
y lips. “I’m guessing he didn’t like the fact that you ditched Hollywood for politics?” As I cupped my lighter and flicked it, I didn’t miss the subtle shiver.
Jesse recovered quickly, though. “Probably just because he can’t take credit for any success I have in this arena. As far as he’s concerned, his name is on Chris’s Oscar and both of Nate’s Golden Globe awards. No one would believe for a second that he did a damned thing to help me get into politics.” He glanced at me, a hint of a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I think he’d bail after a week of these campaign events. He hates promo tours for his films, and those have nothing on this.”
I exhaled some more smoke. “No, those aren’t even close.” I brought my cigarette back up but paused with it an inch or so from my mouth. “And if you think the campaign’s been intense so far, all I can say is, shit just got real.”
Jesse laughed. “Great.”
“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “It’s going to be more traveling, more debating, and a hell of a lot less sleep.”
He groaned. “Less sleep? Fucking hooray.”
“Par for the course.” I took another slow, deep drag and turned my head to blow out the smoke without getting it in his face.
“At least tonight’s a fairly early night.” He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. “Eight fifteen, and the party’s already wrapping up. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep for a change.”
I once again paused with my cigarette almost touching my lips.
Jesse looked at me, and his eyebrows rose. “What?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek and lowered my cigarette. “Yeah, it’s an early night, but…”
His eyebrows crept up a little more.
We both needed to get some sleep at some point, and anyone on a campaign trail knew better than to let an opportunity pass him by for an early night, but there was something on my mind that trumped even my need for sleep.
Now or never, Anthony.
I glanced around the terrace. It was mostly empty, but enough people milled around that we had to be discreet.
