by L. A. Witt
“Do it, and you’re a dead man.”
I put my shoulders back. “You know, threatening a governor is a federal offense.”
“You’re not governor yet.” She nodded sharply at her car. “That thing comes back with a scratch on it or any less than a full tank, you won’t live to be governor.”
“Ooh, I’m scared.”
“As well you should be.”
I laughed, then started toward the car. “Thanks, Ranya. I really appreciate it.”
She smiled. “Anytime.”
As she disappeared into the hotel, I got in the car, adjusted the seat, put the address Anthony had texted me into the GPS, and got the hell out of there. I hadn’t lied about taking care of her car while it was in my possession, but it was tempting to peel out of the parking lot and see just how fast this thing would go once I hit the highway. Not because I needed to drive fast or be reckless, but because the hotel wasn’t fading fast enough in the rearview.
All the way there, though, I drove closer to the speed limit than I ever had in my life. Every car waiting to turn onto the highway was a Crown Victoria waiting to pull me over, and every motorcycle was a CHP who’d clocked me at way faster than I was actually driving. Just what I needed: a speeding ticket and a so where were you going that night in another woman’s car without your wife and in such a hurry, Mr. Cameron? They’d know. Everyone would know. I was a speeding ticket away from all of California knowing I was en route to an adulterous liaison with my secret gay lover.
Nerves, paranoia, and anticipation had me gripping the wheel for dear life as I drove through the night. I swore the odometer was rolling backward, that every mile I gained was ten miles in the wrong direction. Ranya’s GPS assured me I was on the right track, though, and it finally told me to turn off the highway onto a badly paved two-lane.
Shortly after that, a sign came into view: MOTEL in blue block letters on a glowing, dirty white background. Below that, red neon formed the skeletal letters spelling out VACANCY beside an indecisively flickering NO.
A pair of weak streetlights illuminated a gravel parking lot in front of a run-down, single-level building with maybe a dozen rooms and an office. It looked like one of those motels where people came to make illegal transactions and secret love children. Wouldn’t have surprised me if a body or two had been found here. The place was creepy, sleazy, and about the unsexiest locale I could think of, but I just didn’t care because Anthony was here and something wasn’t right. This place was discreet, and given the choice between spending time here and not finding out what had Anthony so rattled? Sign me up for a night in the Bates-Roach Motel.
Heart pounding, I turned off the road. Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and my headlights arced across pale blue exterior walls, curtain-shrouded windows, and numbered doors. Weathered railroad ties on the gravel divided the parking area from the building, each six-foot beam indicating one parking space. Most rooms had one or two cars—everything from beaters that I couldn’t imagine had moved recently to a gleaming black Cadillac Escalade—parked out front.
The room Anthony had indicated, though, had two vacant spaces. A faint, warm glow behind the thick curtains was the only indication anyone was in room nine, but just to be sure, I double-checked the room number. Nosed up to the railroad tie in front of that room, beside the empty space where I’d have expected to see Anthony’s car, and checked the number again before I put the car in park. Again after I’d gotten out of the car. One last time as I stood in front of the door.
Then I tapped on the door.
A second later, it opened, and after I’d stepped inside and closed it behind me, we didn’t bother with small talk or even a thank God you’re here. I grabbed onto him and found only skin. No shirt. His kiss was deep and desperate, but there was something else. Something I’d heard in his voice over the phone and couldn’t quite define, something that unsettled me.
I pulled back, and my heart jumped into my throat.
Anthony’s shoulders were bunched with tension, like he was on the verge of shivering to ward off a phantom chill. He was a difficult man to read, but he looked like he couldn’t even figure out what was on his mind. Was he angry? Confused? Lost? Ready to hurt someone, ready to break down?
I touched his face, and he jumped.
“Jesus, Anthony,” I said. “Are you all right?”
He swallowed hard and nodded, then pulled me closer to him. “I’m fine. I don’t…” He paused and touched his forehead to mine. “I can’t explain it. I just, I needed to see you.”
I moistened my lips. “Well, I’m here.”
“Thank God,” he breathed and pulled me into his arms again. A low growl emerged from the back of his throat as he pushed me up against the door and claimed a deep, breathless kiss. He wasn’t just horny, that much was apparent. His fingers shook as they ran through my hair, and he kissed me with a foundation-rattling franticness that went beyond lust and desperation. He tasted like smoke, recent smoke, and I had visions of him shaking and swearing and chain-smoking on the way here and while he waited.
I drew back again, panting as I looked in his eyes. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”
Anthony closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Then he shook his head. Meeting my eyes, he said, “I don’t want to think about it right now.” And with that, he cupped my face in both hands and kissed me again, and whatever was on his mind, I didn’t want to think about it either. Not until we put out this fire that threatened to bring the whole motel down around us.
From the unmistakable, if indefinable, hunger in his eyes, I expected him to be rougher than usual. I thought he’d be tearing clothes and leaving marks, but he was gentle. Slow, tender, almost cautious. Every button was safe from being torn off, every seam safe from ripping, and each piece of clothing landed as softly on the floor as my back landed on the bed and Anthony’s lips landed on my skin.
He kissed his way down my chest, and my abs contracted in anticipation of his soft, warm lips. Between kisses, he released hot, ragged breaths across my flesh, and he took his time in spite of the quiet desperation that reverberated through his every touch and motion.
His lips lingered on my hip for a moment, just long enough to drive me out of my mind, and then he went down on me. He held himself up on one arm and stroked my cock with his other hand. His talented lips and tongue followed his hand up and down, up and down, up and down, and I propped myself up on my elbows so I could watch him. His shoulders quivered, tensed, and relaxed with every motion, his forearm rippling in time with his strokes, and oh God, his dark eyes flicked up to meet mine for a fleeting second before he swallowed my cock to the hilt.
I let myself sink back to the bed and closed my eyes. Desperate just to touch him, for one more point of intense contact, I ran my fingers through his hair, and he groaned against my skin.
There was no need to stay quiet out here, away from anyone who knew us or knew why this shouldn’t be happening, but I was still afraid to make a sound. Like someone might be right outside listening for that damning moan, or they might have their ear pressed to the wall from the next room to hear me call out Anthony’s name.
Anthony stopped, and I whimpered in protest.
“Don’t stop, Anthony,” I said as he moved over me. “God, don’t—”
“Get on your hands and knees,” he whispered, letting his lips graze mine as he spoke.
I had no idea how I intended to hold myself up, but I nodded anyway. As I changed position, the sound of tearing foil made me shiver. Then the lube bottle clicked. I closed my eyes, holding my breath and shaking with anticipation. Without the sound of my own breathing, his was more apparent, and I realized he was out of breath. Panting, swearing, breathing hard, breathing fast.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Definitely.” He knelt behind me, and his hand warmed my hip. As his weight shifted over me, more skin heating my back, he whispered, “I just want you so bad I can’t see straight.” He kiss
ed between my shoulders. Then a little higher. Still higher, working his way up to the base of my neck. His weight shifted again, and a second later, a cool, slick fingertip teased my entrance. I chewed my lip, resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck me. Much as I loved the things he did with his fingers, I wanted his cock, and I wanted it right now.
He must have heard my thoughts, or he was thinking along the same lines, because he only teased me for a moment before withdrawing his fingers. Groaning softly, he pressed his cock against me, and as he pushed in, my arms damn near collapsed under me. I had long ago gotten used to this sensation, and I took him easily, but my eyes still watered and even from that first stroke, I was both sure I could—needed to—handle this and certain I’d fall apart before he took another. It was the start of the rising tension, the escalating intensity that would ultimately lead to the release I so badly craved. That rising tension was like a release in and of itself, the promise of perfect, complete relief.
He fucked me slowly, gently, sliding all the way inside me before withdrawing almost completely. My arms and shoulders shook as I struggled to hold myself up. I was so fucking turned on, aroused out of my goddamned mind, and the more he moved, the less I could keep myself from collapsing to the bed.
With his body weight, Anthony guided me down onto my stomach. He slid his arms under my chest and hooked his hands over my shoulders. With every stroke—every slow, smooth stroke—his chest brushed my back and his hot breath whispered across the side of my neck.
I thought he’d lose control and fuck me hard enough to knock incriminating groans out of the bed frame and me, but he didn’t. The bed stayed quiet, and the sheer intensity of his cock inside me rendered me completely mute.
His strokes stayed slow, so deliciously, agonizingly slow. He moved easily, fluidly, taking long strokes that each seemed to last all night. Uneven breaths rushed past my ear and whispered across my neck, and if not for his silence and slowness, I’d have been sure he was on the verge of losing control. And maybe he was, but his movements were smooth and even, and his ragged breaths stayed quiet. He was in control. Somehow he was in complete control, just as Anthony always was, even when his whole body shook and his rhythm tried to fall apart. Even if he’d hinted over the phone about cracks in the foundation, like his grasp on his usual control was alarmingly tenuous, he had it together now.
And whatever control I might have had was long gone. I had just enough left to keep myself from crying out as he fucked me to a blinding orgasm, and the world fell to pieces, and I fell to pieces, and Anthony didn’t stop.
“Oh God,” he breathed. “Jesse…” His voice dropped to a breathless, shuddering moan, and his whole body trembled as he forced himself as deep inside me as he could get. Whimpering softly, he buried his face against the side of my neck to stifle the helpless groan as he came.
He pulled out, but otherwise neither of us moved for a long, long time. Anthony rested his forehead on my shoulder, his sharp breaths cooling my skin, and I couldn’t say who shook more.
Eventually we got up and moved into the tiny, aged bathroom for a shower. It wasn’t until afterward, when we’d collapsed onto the hard, uneven bed again, that that undefined something in Anthony’s demeanor came back. As we lay in silence, it crept back in: his fingers slowed their caress on my shoulder. His gaze turned distant and unfocused. Faint crevices formed between his eyebrows. A long, heavy sigh.
“You never did tell me what was on your mind,” I said, not so sure I wanted to know. “You okay?”
“There’s…” He bit his lip and reached back to scratch his neck as if he just needed something for his hand to do. “I found out some incredibly infuriating things tonight. So I was pissed off, but I also felt guilty, so I needed…”
I ran my hand up and down his arm. “What happened?”
He swallowed. “I’m used to being in control of a campaign,” he said. “I call the shots. I plan and approve the strategies. Nothing happens without my say-so. I’m not used to someone playing me as a pawn in my own game.”
My blood turned cold. “What do you mean?”
Anthony moistened his lips. Taking a deep breath, he met my eyes. “Roger has been pulling some strings.”
Something sank in the pit of my stomach. “How so?”
“Remember how he encouraged you to get Simone involved? Insisted she’d be all right?”
That something sank even deeper. “Yeah…”
Anthony swallowed hard and looked me in the eye. “He knew. He knew exactly what would happen to her. I mean, we were all afraid she would fall apart, and I know you’ve been scared to death she would from the beginning, but…”
Ice climbed up my spine to the base of my neck. “What are you getting at?” Deep down I knew, but I needed to hear him say it. Say it, Anthony. Fucking say it.
“It was deliberate,” he whispered. “Calculated. He knew she’d buckle, and he was counting on it.”
My jaw might have dropped just then if fury hadn’t had me clenching my teeth so tightly.
“He knew,” Anthony said. “And he knew that when she did, you’d respond exactly the way you did, and…” Closing his eyes, he released a breath.
“What?” Come on. Say it. All of it.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And the public would love it. And they’d love you. Something like this can win an election, and he…Roger was banking on it.”
“That…son of a…”
“No shit. That’s why he insisted on getting Simone involved from the start. He knew I wouldn’t push her if I knew she had emotional issues, but putting her front and center at the very beginning like he did meant we couldn’t back her out of the limelight without being conspicuous about it. I was pissed that he put your marriage in the spotlight like that, but if I’d known why…” Anthony shook his head and exhaled sharply. “I am so sorry, Jesse. I’ll do a lot to win an election, but not this. If I had known…”
“You didn’t know,” I said. “I can’t imagine anyone but Roger did.”
“I know. But I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like I should have. I should have at least figured out what this was doing to Simone, and…” He scowled. “I knew it was taking its toll on her.”
“We all did,” I said. “I just didn’t think…” So that was why Roger wanted my marriage under the microscope. I’d known he wanted my sexuality kept under wraps, and it didn’t take an idiot to figure out why, but I’d needed his advice to help me get elected, so I’d gone with it. When the election was over, then I could figure out what to do about coming out.
But this? Knowingly putting Simone out there so her inevitable collapse could score me some votes? Fuck, the very thought made me sick to my stomach. I could have killed him. If he’d been in the room with me now, I’d have decked him. Son of a bitch…
“Jesus.” I raked a hand through my hair. “I can’t believe I let him do this.”
“He’s good at this game,” Anthony said. “I should have known. And I swear, I would never knowingly allow something like this to happen with any candidate.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “But you…God, especially you…”
I touched his face. “I know you wouldn’t. To me or anyone else.”
“No, but especially you.” He met my eyes, and the intensity in his almost made me draw back. “And my God, I would never hurt Simone.” He winced. “On purpose, I mean. I think I’ve inadvertently hurt her more than enough.”
I flinched. “Yeah, me too.” I exhaled hard. “We can’t tell her about this. Any of it.”
Anthony nodded. “I know. And we can’t boot Roger off the campaign either.”
“Fuck, we can’t?”
He shook his head. “His endorsement was the foundation of the public’s trust in you. If there’s suddenly distance between your campaign and your uncle, people will wonder why, and they’ll doubt you. We’re too close to the election to recover from something like that. Too close for my comfort, anyway
.”
“Great. Hopefully I can keep myself from killing him when—”
My cell phone vibrated on the bedside table and, a half second later, sprang to life with its usual ear-piercing melody. I closed my eyes and exhaled.
“You going to answer it?”
“No.” I blindly searched for his hand and, when I found it, laced our fingers together. “I really, really don’t want to talk to anyone else tonight.”
“Same here,” he said quietly. He glanced at the clock next to the bed and swore under his breath. “It’s late, though.” He faced me. “We shouldn’t stay here too much longer. One of us…one of us should go back soon.”
I nodded, using that as an excuse to lift my chin and find his lips with mine. We did need to leave soon, but that meant going back to a world that made less sense with each passing day, where people got hurt and stabbed each other in the back, and I needed to stay here a little longer. Everything in the cold confines of that luxury hotel could wait, because what I needed was here in the warmth of this seedy, no-name motel. We needed to leave but I kissed him anyway, and with a moan that might have been one of protest or surrender—maybe both—he returned it.
And all at once, he broke away but didn’t pull back very far. “We’re not getting any closer to leaving.”
“No, we’re not.” I trailed my fingertips down the middle of his back until he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Can’t say I’m in much of a hurry.”
“But we should—”
“I know.”
“Jesse…”
“I don’t care,” I whispered. I hooked my leg over his and pulled him closer to me so he could feel my cock getting hard again. He was already rock hard, and we both shivered as his erection pressed against my hip.
“We’re going to be here all night at this rate,” he growled, but his protests didn’t carry much weight when he rolled me onto my back and kissed me hard, hungrily, violently, breaking away just long enough to murmur, “We shouldn’t do this.”
But his kiss was desperate, and his arms were in no more of a hurry to let me go than mine were to let him go. We didn’t have much time, but we had plenty of condoms, so to hell with it.
