Page 24 of Voice to Raise
“Hey.” He frowned. “People do nottune me out. I’ll have you know I’ve presented before council before, and—”
“Did they vote the way you wanted to?”
The frown increased. “Not always—”
“Well, they sure as shit weren’t going to this time either.”
“You don’t know that. I might’ve made a persuasive argument—if I hadn’t been rudely interrupted.”
I pursed my lips. “You always play it safe. You never risk anything. Real change isn’t going to happen unless you put yourself on the line.” I stepped into his space and put our faces mere inches apart. “I think you’re chickenshit. You’re afraid of being real about the struggles.”
“That’s bullshit, Malik. I’m in the fight every day. I might not be in people’s faces—”
“But you should be. They should know about This Land is Ours. They should understand what the fight and struggle are all about. Too many people wander around this city…hell, this province…” I rubbed my forehead. “Hell, this country and even this planet. People don’t get it.”
“Some people get it.” He held my gaze. “But there are better ways to get what you want than grandstanding and showboating.”
“I wasn’t doing either.” God, he so didn’t understand. “If you stand for nothing…if you speak out for nothing…then what’s the point?”
“I was trying to speak.” He gestured wildly toward the building. “You didn’t give me a chance. I’d like to believe I could’ve made a persuasive argument. But you interrupted, and then I lost my turn. God, you’re always thinking with—” He cut off.
“With what?” I was super interested in what he was thinking. Maybe I had cut him off—which would have been rude—but hewas droning on and not getting to the point. Not imbuing the audience with the sense of urgency the situation required.
“With, I don’t know, anything other than your brain. You’re brave. Great. Fantastic. That doesn’t move us forward. That doesn’t help us achieve our goals. You need to understand that it’s not about you. It’s not about people doing what you think they should—”
“Wait a minute. I never said you should chain yourself to a bridge.”
“Good, because I’m never going to do that. I’m a member of the bar of British Columbia in good standing. I’m not going to risk that for some harebrained, half-baked, stupid—”
“Don’t call me stupid.” I said the words low. Almost a growl. I could put up with a lot of shit and name calling—but stupid was a hard limit for me. The bully at my school would run around saying all Black kids werestupid. I reported it to a teacher, because I wasn’t the only Black kid who was hurt, and the little shit denied it. The teacher took his side, of course, and I got a reputation as a snitch as well.
I might’ve eventually grown bigger than the bully, but his words and taunts never ended. He knew that I couldn’t, as a Black kid, risk getting in a fight. Plus, he always had tons of friends and followers. I was one of the few Black kids in my school. I went to school with a rainbow of color, but the minority kids didn’t always stick together.
Leaving high school had been the best day of my life.
Losing my parents had been the worst.
“I didn’t call you stupid.” Spencer pressed a hand to his temple. “Sometimes your ideas are…”
“Are what? Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He snapped that.
“Then what—”
He cut me off by launching himself at me, pulling me flush against him, and pressing his lips to mine. When I attempted to speak—whether to protest or encourage, I couldn’t be certain—he thrust his tongue into my mouth. He grasped the back of my neck, lowered his head slightly, and then devoured me whole. His tongue sought the recesses of my mouth, even as his hands held me tight. Then those hands were meandering down my neck, to my chest, along my flank, then to my ass.
He pressed us closer.
I angled myself so our erect cocks brushed. Even through the layers of denim and khaki, I felt his arousal.
It matched my own.
The concept of consent flitted through my mind. How he hadn’t asked. How I probably would’ve said no. How, if I had, I would’ve been missing out on all this.
I wrapped my arms around him to pull him even closer. So there wasn’t a breath of wind that could pass between the two of us. Yet, the slightly rational side of my mind, pointed out we were standing on the steps of city hall. That anyone could walk by at any moment. The irrational side—the side that apparently drove Spencer nuts—truly didn’t give a shit. I’d been attracted to him since the first moment I stormed into his office. I’d been pissed. Hell, I still was pissed. But none of that seemed to matter as he squeezed my ass.
Yeah, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly that I was willing to drag him behind a building and have my way with him. Would he be willing? Would he be interested? Was he a bottom or a top? This would be an important question to have an answer to because I always topped. I wasn’t vers. I wasn’t a switch. I liked what I liked, and I never deviated from that.
