“Where’s your bedroom?” asked Ford Hollingsworth as he tipped his head back to make room for the man licking a path down his neck.
The handsome stranger shoved Ford’s coat to the floor, slammed him against the wall, and wedged his thigh between Ford’s legs, rubbing up against his balls.
“Oh. Oh.” Ford bucked. “Your bedroom?”
Despite being mostly clothed, Ford was seconds away from coming in his pants. The inner voice he’d spent most of his life ignoring piped up to remind him that he’d never been this aroused with any woman and never would be. But acknowledging that voice meant walking away from his family and his aspirations, so Ford tried ignoring it, something that had gotten increasingly difficult with every passing year and was now impossible.
“Trevor?” Ford had no idea if that was the dark-haired guy’s real name or if he’d created an alias to use with a bar pickup, which was what Ford himself had done. Either way, he was proud he remembered the name, considering he was more turned on than he’d ever been in his life.
Without responding, the man reached for Ford’s shirt buttons and popped them open while he caressed Ford’s chest.
He made quick work of Ford’s crisp blue oxford, spread it apart, and sucked on Ford’s nipple.
“Trevor, bedroom?” panted Ford as he clawed at the wall behind him.
“Over there.” Trevor tilted his head back and dropped to his knees.
“Over where?” Ford squinted in the general direction Trevor had indicated, but they hadn’t taken the time to turn on the lights when they’d entered the apartment, so he couldn’t see well. Regardless, his question became irrelevant when Trevor began mouthing his cock through his dress slacks. “Oh. Oh.” He arched his neck and clawed at the wall behind him. “I… I…”
Heated eyes gazed up at him. “It’s okay.” Trevor flicked his pants button open and slid his zipper down. “Let go.” He cupped Ford’s package and squeezed him through his briefs. “I’ll get you up again.”
At age thirty-seven, Ford’s sexual experience was extremely limited. Both his religion and his upbringing staunchly opposed sex outside of marriage, but his heart and his gut balked at intimacy with any woman he’d dated. That meant he’d remained single and mostly celibate. But he picked up men to get relief of the carnal sort during the rare occasions when he couldn’t handle the stress of life as an up-and-coming politician—he had become a school board member at the unusually young age of twenty-six, a city council member when he was twenty-nine, a state legislator at thirty-three, and he had been sworn into the United States House of Representatives a few weeks earlier, on January 3.
During those weak moments, Ford ignored his responsibilities to his family and to the millions of voters who counted on him, and he instead focused solely on himself. An orgasm usually eradicated his selfishness and snapped him back to sanity, so he hadn’t ever stayed with a man after he’d gotten off, but more and more lately, he wondered what it’d be like, wondered if he’d sleep better with a warm body beside him or if he’d resent having to share the blanket, wondered if they’d kiss good morning before brushing their teeth or if they’d wait until after, wondered if they’d argue over who’d read the Washington Post first or if they’d break up the sections.
“You smell amazing.” Trevor rolled down Ford’s briefs, buried his face against Ford’s groin, and inhaled deeply. “Damn.” He swiped his tongue over Ford’s balls and moaned. “This is going to be so good.”
Good, yes. And also fast. Very fast. Too fast. Ford wanted more time with the sexy stranger. He wanted more of those sensual touches, the deep voice, and the talented tongue.
After a few more licks, Trevor parted his lips, took one of Ford’s testicles into his mouth, and sucked. “Mmm.” Trevor released the first testicle only to pay the same attention to the second.
“Ungh,” Ford groaned and threaded his fingers through Trevor’s hair.
“That’s it.” Trevor circled his palm around Ford’s erection, flicked his tongue over the slit, and moved his hand up and down. “Damn, you’re hot.” He slid his free hand over Ford’s belly and chest. “So sexy.”
A political career meant Ford was usually surrounded by people older than his thirty-seven years and flabbier than his six feet, one hundred seventy-six pounds, so he had often been described as handsome or cute. But nobody, himself included, considered him ‘hot’ or ‘sexy.’ He wasn’t a particularly sexual or passionate person, something that served him well in keeping out of the type of trouble that so often dimmed his colleagues’ previously bright futures. Not being caught with an escort or mistress was easy when you didn’t have an interest in either. But in that moment, with his shirt gaping open, his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, and a man with a deep voice and dimpled smile sucking his dick like he was born to do it, passion, need, and sexual desire nearly overwhelmed him.
“That feels so good.” Ford combed his trembling fingers through Trevor’s dark hair, the soft strands flowing over his hand.
“Goal accomplished,” said Trevor after popping his mouth off Ford’s dick. He pumped his fist up and down the saliva-slick shaft and looked up at him, his face breaking into the good-humored smile that had attracted Ford in the dark Manhattan bar around the corner.
After a day of stressful meetings with people his chief of staff considered important, Ford had gone for a walk, noticed the small rainbow sticker in the corner of the otherwise non-descript window, and stepped inside. He wasn’t much for drinking, but he ordered a beer just to have something to do with his hands and sat down. Before long, Trevor approached him. The bar had limited lighting and excessive noise, so Ford could barely hear or see him, but the joyful grin was just what he needed after months of scowls, so he threw caution to the wind and followed Trevor home.
“Looking forward to getting you naked and making you feel even better.” Trevor swiped his tongue from the base of Ford’s dick to his crown. “Assuming I can pull myself away from your cock.” He slid his hand up and down Ford’s shaft and looked at it appreciatively. “You really do have a great dick.” He swirled his tongue around the glans and breathed in deeply. “And you smell and taste incredible.”
“Glad you like how it tastes,” Ford said shakily. “Because with what you’re doing down there, you’re about to get a much bigger sample.”
He blushed at his own comment, the crudeness as foreign as the attempt at flirtation. But Trevor chuckled and smiled, his dimples making another appearance, and Ford relaxed. He was in a stranger’s apartment with his pants down, something that was career-endingly terrifying, and yet he was feeling comfortable and having fun.
“You know, I think I’d enjoy that.” Trevor tightened his grip on Ford’s shaft and sped up his strokes. “I don’t usually swallow, but with you…” He flicked his tongue across Ford’s cockhead and moaned. “Yes, I’d like it.”
Ford’s breath hitched, his muscles tightened, and before he could utter a warning, thick ejaculate shot from his dick and streaked across Trevor’s cheek, chin, and lips.
Though his eyes widened in surprise, Trevor didn’t pull away. He continued stroking Ford through his release, and when Ford was spent, he licked the semen off his lips, wiped his thumb over the smears on his face and, still meeting Ford’s gaze, lapped at the creamy fluid.
“Mmm. I was right,” Trevor rasped.
For the first time, even an orgasm wasn’t enough to refocus Ford on his priorities. All he could think about was the man in front of him. The man he hadn’t yet had the pleasure of touching. The man who had promised him a follow-up to what had to be the best blow job of all time.
“I hope you’re right about the rest of it too,” Ford said breathlessly, his lungs still recovering from the intense release.
“You ready to get naked and find out?” Trevor stood and ran his hands up Ford’s flanks. “Or do we need to rehydrate you first?” He grinned and arched his eyebrows. “You lost a lot of fluid just now.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“I wasn’t kidding.” Trevor gently cupped Ford’s softening dick and then raised his underwear over it. “That was some impressive volume.” He grasped Ford’s pants with both hands, lifted them over his hips, and zipped them up as he dropped his voice to a rough whisper and said, “You always shoot that much or should I take it as a compliment?”
With as close to one another as they stood, Trevor’s breath ghosted over his face, and for a moment, Ford worried Trevor would recognize him and expose his secret. But most people didn’t actually know what congressmen from other states looked like, or for that matter, how their own congressman looked. Besides, he hadn’t enjoyed himself that much in as long as he could remember and he refused to let his worries ruin that.
“I, uh, don’t know if it was a lot but—” Ford licked his lips and bit the upper one. “Yeah, it’s a compliment.”
“Good.” Trevor wove his fingers through the sides of Ford’s hair and then cupped his cheeks. “I’d like to kiss you.”
“Okay,” Ford croaked, the word barely audible. He cleared his throat and said it again. “Okay.”
Slowly, Trevor leaned forward and bussed his lips over Ford’s.
His muscles loosening from just that small touch, Ford sighed and rubbed his hands down Trevor’s sides.
“Ready for more?”
Ford swallowed hard and then dipped his chin.
“Me too,” Trevor whispered. Holding Ford’s face, he slid his thumbs back and forth across his cheekbones and then slowly, so slowly, brushed his lips over Ford’s a few times before flicking his tongue across the seam.
The tenderness of Trevor’s touch along with his scent and warmth tightened Ford’s belly. He clutched Trevor’s sweater and held on as he parted his lips to let him in.
“Mmm,” Trevor moaned, sliding his tongue into Ford’s mouth. Keeping his hold on Ford’s face firm but gentle, he twirled his tongue around Ford’s and sucked on it.
Weak-kneed and short of breath, Ford leaned against the wall behind him and did his best to keep up with Trevor’s skillful seduction despite his own lack of experience. By the time Trevor pulled away, Ford’s lungs were heaving, his lips were swollen, and his dick was making a valiant attempt at a comeback.
“Why’d you stop?” he asked before recovering enough mental clarity to think through his words, let alone remember that he should want to stop. To stop and to leave. But that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Not stopping,” Trevor gently kissed him again. “More like pausing. You’re not twenty so we have a little time before you’re ready for another round. Let’s hydrate and talk.”
Talk? Ford’s mistakes were generally quick with both him and the man he was with sharing a single goal of getting off. Nobody had ever asked to talk with him and he wasn’t sure how to respond. Before he could figure it out, Trevor kissed him again, reached over his shoulder and to the left, and turned on the lights.
Blinking at the unexpected brightness, Ford stayed put when Trevor said, “Kitchen’s this way.”
Once his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in a surprisingly large, open, modern space. To his left and right were windows spanning from the soaring ceilings to the wide plank pine floors. The entry door and a red brick wall were behind him. And in front of him, an open kitchen with metal cabinets, stainless steel shelves, and gleaming appliances spanned half the width of the apartment while a wide walkway and a smooth concrete planter stretched across the other half. The furniture was minimal, but pristine—a long wood table surrounded by plush chairs in cream and gray, two sofas in a matching cream fabric, a grouping of gray tufted armchairs with stainless steel frames, and on the silver colored walls, hung paintings and photographs in varying styles and sizes.
Ford owned a small townhouse in his home state of Missouri, but the studio apartment he rented in Washington, DC was under four hundred square feet and dated. Manhattan’s real estate prices were even higher than the District’s so seeing such a spacious, polished apartment took Ford off guard and distracted him from his worries.
“Wow. This is some place.” He darted his gaze around as he walked toward Trevor, who stood in the kitchen. “What did you say you do for a living?”
“Very funny.” Chuckling, Trevor pulled the tall refrigerator door open and said, “Water? Juice?” He bent over and rustled around the bottom rack. “I don’t drink often, but I think there’s an unopened pinot from a case I bought for a holiday party.”
Tall leather chairs lined one side of a kitchen island, and Ford held onto one to keep himself steady as he admired the firm, round butt encased in fitted denim.
“Ford?” Trevor looked back over his shoulder. “What do you want to drink?”
Shaking his head to clear away the distraction, Ford said, “Water’s fine.” A second passed and then he registered Trevor’s words and nervously asked, “How do you know my name?”
With a water bottle in each hand, Trevor spun around and looked at him in confusion. “Are you serious?”
For the first time, they were in a space lit well enough for Ford to see the man clearly. His hair was brown, his eyes a smoky blue, and his face familiar. While concentrating on not making a scene and mentally calculating the extent of the damage he’d likely caused by having sex with a man, Ford quickly flipped through his mental Rolodex trying to place Trevor.
“Do I know y—” He stopped mid-word, recognition hitting him like a powerful punch to the gut. “Trevor Moga,” he croaked. He was standing with the son of the president of the United Sates. A Democrat president who daily waged political battles with Ford, his father, and their fellow Republicans.
“Yes.” Trevor walked around the island, set the bottles down, and reached for Ford. “You honestly didn’t recognize me? I thought you were joking around with that name thing at the bar.”
Jerking away, Ford tugged at his hair and said, “It was dark. You’re not wearing a suit. Your hair’s longer than it was during the last campaign. And you’re not photographed with your family often enough for me to know you have dimples.” His words came out faster and faster and his chest ached. “Oh my God, what did I do?”
“Hey,” Trevor said softly, soothingly. “Relax. Nothing happened.”
“You call that nothing?” Ford pointed toward the wall by the front door where only minutes earlier he had experienced the greatest pleasure of his life. “You knew! You knew who I was when you saw me at that bar. That’s why you brought me here. That’s why you… Oh no.” His voice took on a hysterical, shrieking tone. “What are you going to do?”
Whatever it was, Ford wouldn’t be able to stop him. Ford’s family had longstanding political connections—aside from his own career, his father was a United States senator and his late grandfather had been the governor of Missouri and the Republican nominee for president. But Trevor Moga was one of the wealthiest men in the world and the son of a sitting president. His connections were better than Ford’s, and if he wanted more people to do his bidding, he had the means to buy them.
“Ford, you need to breathe.” Big hands landed on Ford’s shoulders, massaging his tense muscles. “In answer to your question, yes, I recognized you right away, but I picked you up because I wanted to do you, nothing else.”
“This could ruin me,” Ford whispered to himself, closing his eyes and trying to calm his jittery nerves.
“I’m not going to opine on politics or the ridiculousness of a man’s personal life being relevant to his law-making abilities, but I am going to make you a promise.” Trevor paused, and when Ford opened his eyes, he said, “Nothing we did tonight”— he grinned —“or will do tonight, is going to leave this apartment. You have my word.”
The irrational part of Ford that enjoyed Trevor’s hands on him and longed to continue their earlier interlude wanted to believe what he said, but the sane part reminded him that lesser controversies had decimated political careers.
“How do I know I can trust you?” he said, hoping Trevor could say something, anything to curb his doubts, but at the same time knowing that wasn’t possible.
“Well.” Trevor sighed and moved his hands from Ford’s shoulders to his neck, continuing his massage. “You can’t.”
Though it was the answer he’d expected, it wasn’t the one he’d wanted. Ford looked down, hiding the disappointment he couldn’t keep off his face.
“But there’s a more important question.”
“More important than you telling your father or his cronies about tonight and ruining me?”
“My mother’s the one you should worry about, but that’s not the point.”
The First Lady was a Harvard graduate who had her own political background and a reputation for being savvy and ruthless. Trevor was right, she’d make a formidable enemy. Less than a month as a congressional representative and already he’d made himself vulnerable to the worst people possible. He should have known better than to let this happen; he should have been stronger.
“What is the point?” Ford asked angrily.
“If my goal was to ruin you by outing you, I already have enough ammunition, right?” When Ford didn’t answer, Trevor sighed and said, “You must think so or you wouldn’t be in the middle of an anxiety attack right now.”
“I’m not having an anxiety attack,” Ford barked, stubbornly ignoring the cold sweat prickling on his skin and the tremors in his hands.
“Uh-huh,” Trevor said disbelievingly. “Anyway, my point is that I’ve had your cock down my throat and your balls in my hands. If I’m going to out you, I have enough to use already.”
“This isn’t reassuring.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the truth.” Trevor sighed and dropped his hands from Ford’s shoulders. “Look, Ford, I think you’re sexy, smart, and probably interesting when you’re not obsessing about politics, which is my least favorite topic, by the way, but if my father’s job or my mother’s reputation killed your interest in me, you know where the door is.” He stepped away. “You can choose to believe I won’t tell anyone or you can choose to panic and end what was shaping up to be a great night.” He picked up one of the water bottles and walked down the space separating the kitchen from the planter, toward the back of the apartment. “Either way, drink that water. I meant what I said about hydrating.” He waved over his shoulder. “It was nice meeting you. I’m going to shower.”