Now Comes the Dark (Basic Instincts #1)

Chapter Ten

Breakfast and After

“I have no food in the kitchen,” Mallon said, coming out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His bronzed skin glistened, still wet from the shower. He had the most remarkable suntan, considering it was winter. Roman didn’t know a lot about the climate in France, but wherever it was that Mallon lived, it seemed unlikely he could have acquired it naturally at this time of year. “Get dressed, and I’ll take you for breakfast.”

Roman stretched languorously, arching his back and pushing his limbs into the corners of the bed. He yawned and murmured his appreciation. “Can I shower first?”

“Quickly,” Mallon said, whipping the towel from his waist to dry his hair. There was a perfect stretch of white skin below his waist to the top of his thighs, before the suntan started again.

Roman rolled off the bed and strode naked into the bathroom. He hadn’t slept much. Just like their first time, the night had been filled with passion and fucking, but he felt gloriously refreshed and awake this morning. Five minutes later, he was showered, dried and searching for his clothes, which were scattered around the living room. Mallon was already dressed, looking hotter than hell in faded jeans, a pale blue shirt, a dark grey, V-neck cashmere sweater and dark brown brogues. He pulled on his winter jacket with the fur trim.

“Very stylish,” Roman remarked as they left the apartment, feeling underdressed in last night’s clothes.

The waterfront of Blyham was a mix of old and new venues, traditional menus and cutting-edge cuisine, chain pubs and cafes, independent eateries and sandwich bars. Roman rarely paid much attention to this area of the city, but as he walked along the river side, inhaling the frosty air with Mallon beside him, he developed an all-new appreciation for the place.

It was no surprise when Mallon passed the well-known chain of coffee shops to lead him into an independent bistro called The Grind. Roman had heard good word of mouth about it from people at work, but this was his first visit. It was smaller than he expected, with around ten tables and a couple of soft-seat areas. The café was around eighty-percent full already. Mallon slipped into a seat at an empty table near the window and picked up the menu. He acts like he owns the place . He probably could if he wanted to , Roman thought. He obviously earned a huge salary to support his lifestyle.

“What’s good?” Roman asked. He was buzzing inside and struggling to play it cool. How amazing was this? Having a late breakfast with the hot older man he’s been obsessing over for months? It was quite unreal and yet everything he wanted.

Mallon shrugged. “It’s all good. It depends on what you like.”

A young server with multicoloured dreadlocks came to the table. “Can I get you anything to drink first?” she asked brightly.

Mallon ordered orange juice and black coffee. When Roman asked for a latte, he caught the expression of disapproval that passed over Mallon’s face. Tough . He wasn’t about to suffer bitter black coffee to impress the Frenchman, no matter how sexy he was.

“Is this where you have all your meals?” Roman asked.

“Mostly breakfast,” Mallon answered, looking at him over the menu. “But they do take away, too. I’ve also gotten food after work from here.”

“Do you ever cook? Or is that fancy kitchen just for show?”

“I like good food, fine food…better than I can cook for myself. There’s not much to choose from in your city, so I stick to the same few places I like.”

“Fine food. Fine whisky. What other fine things do you like?”

Mallon lowered the menu, his mouth twisted in a lop-sided grin. “Fine wine.” He reduced his voice to a whisper. “Fine ass.”

Heat rose to Roman’s face. “You’re a man who knows what he likes.”

“Always.”

When the server returned with their drinks, Mallon ordered a potato and cheese rosti with streaky bacon, Portobello mushrooms and a fried egg. After changing his mind three times, Roman settled on sourdough toast topped with sauteed mushroom, Emmental cheese and a poached egg.

“This place is quite something,” he said. “It’s a big step up from the greasy café I sometimes visit on my way to work. Bacon or sausage butties are as extravagant as it gets.”

Mallon grimaced, making Roman smile. He was clearly a snob when it came to food and drink, but it made a nice change to the humdrum tastes of the men he usually met.

He added a heaped spoon of brown sugar to his latte. “You said you’re a project manager. What is it you manage?”

“It will be boring to you.”

“No, I’m interested…seriously, especially if you are bringing new jobs to Blyham. I could be on the market for one of those sooner than I’d like.”

“I’m overseeing the construction and start-up of the new factory. Once it’s up and running, we have contracts to produce railway carriages and coaches. Big investments. Big opportunities for Blyham.”

“It sounds like it.”

“And what is it you do?” Mallon asked.

“Now this will bore you because it bores me. I work on the customer service helpline for a domestic appliance firm, helping people when their washing machines and ovens go wrong. Boring, right? This is the first Saturday I’ve had off in weeks, too.”

“Why don’t you find something else if you hate it so much?”

“If it was that easy, I would. I have a degree in economics, and I worked for two years as a chartered accountant until the firm went bust. I’ve struggled to find another job in the same field, which is why I’m answering calls about faulty appliances. I don’t know how long I can manage that for. The money is rubbish, as well as the job being boring. There’s a threat of redundancies on the horizon, too. If the job situation doesn’t improve in the next six months, I might have to move back home.”

“And where is home?”

“A small town up the coast. It’s called Nyemouth. It’s a nice place, pretty, but unless you’re in the fishing or the hospitality sector, the job prospects there are even worse than here. At least I won’t have rent to pay, but moving in with my parents in my mid-twenties is not how I thought my life would pan out.”

“Fishermen and hotel owners need accountants, too. There are always opportunities if you look for them.”

“Not in Nyemouth. You wouldn’t say that if you knew the place.” Roman had spent the entirety of his teenage years wanting to escape the small-town life he’d been brought up with. Since moving to Blyham for university, he had not gone back for anything other than birthday and Christmas visits. His life would be a failure if he had to return there now.

Mallon devoured his breakfast with unbridled hunger, picking up the napkin to wipe his lips once the plate was cleared. He was clearly a man of intense appetites. Roman took his time, savouring the food. This was a real treat, and he didn’t want to waste it. Mallon signalled for another coffee.

“You’re enjoying it?” he asked.

Roman nodded, still chewing.

“The first few times I came to this city, I found the food unbearable,” Mallon said, pulling a face. “All the same fast food and chain shops you find anywhere in the world… It took a while to discover the better places. There aren’t too many, but they are here, if you know where to look.”

“I’ve lived in Blyham for years, and this is the first time I’ve been in here. I’m happy with a burger, a pizza or a big bowl of pasta. I don’t go for fancy meals.”

Mallon’s lips twitched downwards. Roman suppressed a smile and continued eating. Was their attraction based on nothing but sex? They appeared to have little else in common. Despite that, Roman wanted to get to know him and learn more about the things Mallon liked.

“What else do you do here?” he asked. “When you’re not working or having fancy dinners?”

“Not a lot. I go into the office early and return late most days. Some evenings I might have dinner with colleagues or clients.”

“Which is just more work. What do you do to relax?”

“I fuck you,” he said, his grey eyes sparkling. “I find that very relaxing.”

“We’ve only spent two nights together, in what…three, four months?”

“I told you, I don’t have a lot of free time. When I do, I return to France.”

Does that mean I’m not one in a long line of casual fuckboys? Or is he just spinning me a line that he thinks I want to hear?

“It sounds lonely…and stressful, all those hours at work with no serious down time.”

Mallon shrugged. “I haven’t found much in Blyham to interest me.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’ve made any effort. There’s a lot more to the city than you would think. Don’t dismiss it too quickly.”

“Okay. What do you suggest? What do you do when you’re not at work—or fucking strange men?”

“Do you like football?”

Mallon grimaced harder than ever.

Roman laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. I follow Blyham FC, but I can’t afford the tickets much. I only make it to occasional games. But I like to watch the matches in the pub if they are on TV.”

“You are not convincing me. Is that all this city has? A football team?”

“No. There are lots of museums and art galleries. There’s the castle further along the river, cinema’s, exhibitions. There’s a theatre and a concert hall. In the summer, they have a lot of open-air concerts in the grounds of the castle. You can hear all kinds of live music—pop, rock, dance, opera. There are churches and a large cathedral, markets and street food. There’s a lot to Blyham, but you just haven’t discovered it yet.”

“So it would seem,” he said, sitting back and watching Roman with keen eyes. “Maybe I have underestimated this place.”

“A lot of people do.”

“And maybe you can show me some of these things.”

Roman put down his knife and fork as Mallon’s words sent a rush right through him. “I’d love to, whenever you want.”

After breakfast, Mallon suggested a walk farther along to the waterfront to help the food digest. It was still freezing outside, but Roman would agree to anything just to spend more time with him. Mallon lit a cigarette as he walked. Smoking had always been a turn off, but like most things with Mallon, he didn’t even mind that.

He pointed out a modern building on the other side of the river, the entire exterior of which was mirrored glass. “That’s Blyham Concert Hall. It’s only been open around three years, but it’s a great venue. They have all kinds of music playing. You should check out what is on. There’s bound to be something that suits you, and it’s so close to your apartment. They have a huge main hall and a smaller studio for more intimate concerts.”

“Maybe. I’m not a fan of crowded places, so I tend to avoid concerts and theatres.”

“There’s a coffee shop in there and a small art gallery, so it’s still worth your while to check it out.”

“All right. You win. I’ll have a look someday. You have convinced me that there is more to your city than I first assumed.”

It was late morning, and the usual gaggle of Saturday stag and hen parties started to arrive and fill up the bars. Despite the January cold, they came out in their skimpy dresses and loose shirts to brave the waterfront.

Roman indicated a path to their right. “We can cut up there and walk along the parallel street back to your apartment. It avoids the worst of the party gangs. They get rowdy quickly at the weekend. Most of them will have been drinking already.”

When they were off the main street, Mallon put out his cigarette and moved closer, putting an arm around Roman’s waist. Roman twitched with excitement. His cock was on a hair-trigger. The slightest touch or gesture from Mallon was all it took to get a stiff rise.

“I have a hard on,” Mallon announced.

“That makes two of us.”

“I’ve had one for the last half hour.” Mallon leaned over and nuzzled Roman’s cold ear.

“We don’t have far to go.”

Mallon pulled him even closer. “I can’t wait.”

They approached a narrow alley leading between a hotel and a restaurant. Mallon drove him down the gap.

“What are you doing?” Roman looked around in both directions. At least they were alone.

“I want you now.” Mallon said, shuffling behind a large waste bin. He put his back against the wall and unbuckled his belt.

“Here?” Roman gasped. “It’s freezing.” The cobbles beneath his feet were still coated in frost that had yet to thaw.

Mallon put a hand on his shoulder and urged him down. He’d already unfastened his fly. He yanked his jeans open and released his hard cock from his underpants. “There you go,” he said, pressing a thumb against the base of his cock and pointing it towards Roman. “Suck me.”

Roman looked around again. He could hear music and voices drifting from the river side and had no idea if any of the windows above them looked directly down. He didn’t care. He couldn’t say no to Mallon or resist this beautiful dick. With a final check, he took off his hat and stuffed it into his pocket. He slid his tongue along the underside of the head and opened his mouth wide, taking his dick to the back of his throat. Mallon’s cock was good and sticky with pre-cum, and Roman realised he hadn’t been lying about being hard for so long. Mallon groaned and wrapped his hands around Roman’s head.

Roman steadied himself against his thighs and worked him with only his mouth, taking him deep enough to gag before withdrawing all the way to the tip. Mallon’s dick throbbed each time he deep-throated. He jerked his hips forward, gently leaning in to fuck Roman’s face.

Roman had to hurry him along. They couldn’t afford to be caught in the act. He bobbed his head faster, summoning more spit and creating suction. Mallon’s fingers raked through his hair and twisted. He gasped. “Oh, that’s it. Yes. Going to come.”

Roman kept him in his mouth, on the soft cushion of his tongue and thrilled as Mallon flooded him with his hot, salty seed. He swallowed, amazed at the volume. Mallon had come at least four times last night and still managed to produce a massive load this morning. He was a sexual superbeing.

He laughed, leaning against the wall with his jeans undone, his cock still hard, pointing straight out. “That was intense. I prefer to come in an ass, but you have a very talented mouth.”

Roman rose to his feet, swallowing, and checked to make sure they were still alone.

“Want me to suck you?” Mallon asked.

“I’d rather not get arrested. I think we’ve pushed our luck far enough.”

Mallon shoved his cock back into his pants. “If you say so. Let’s got back to the apartment. I’m going to eat your ass until you beg me to stop.”

Roman had no objection to that plan.