Chapter 8 Mateo
MATEO
Finding out Rob was queer blew my mind.
In theory, I knew I wasn’t the only gay former pro football player out there, but I was still gobsmacked. And thrilled that this was a case of mutual horny attraction. He wanted me.
I didn’t know what to think of this twist, but life went on as usual the following day in a nonstop parade of customers, taking orders, schmoozing, sweeping, and teasing Vanni about bathing in his cologne.
In the midst of everyday chaos, I hoped I’d forget about Rob and quit hoping he’d show up for a repeat…with less clothes.
No sign of Rob. However Amber popped in to chat with Sal and me about her idea for a football fund raiser. She was nothing if not relentless.
“We have to get the local paper involved and of course, start a social media campaign. I can handle all that. All you need to do is say go,” she’d cajoled. “It should be a no-brainer. It’s easy, community-friendly publicity.”
It seemed like more effort than necessary, but then again, Boardwalk Pizza was woefully behind the times when it came to marketing.
My dad and Uncle Sal used to advertise in the yellow pages and in the church bulletin once a month.
We always donated and gave back to the community, but not on a grand scale.
And we’d certainly never had an ad campaign or done anything out of the box.
Christ, we hadn’t changed our logo in sixty-plus years.
So yes, I was intrigued by Amber’s proposal.
Sal was too. “We’ll talk about it and let you know, okay?”
“Wonderful. Let’s chat ASAP!”
Sal furrowed his brow and stared after her, wringing his hands on a dish towel. “It’s not a terrible idea.”
“Yeah, if Mateo doesn’t mind getting his ass handed to him,” Vanni snarked, plucking the dishtowel from his brother and snapping it at my butt.
I scoffed. “Are you nuts? We’d kill ’em.”
“Not in the bagel category, cuz. Your last batch looked like donut holes.”
Sal chuckled. “He’s right. If we’re doing this, you better practice.”
“Hey, ask Rob for a lesson,” Jimmy piped in.
I made sure no one was looking before flashing them the bird.
Truthfully, I might have been more jazzed about Amber’s idea if Rob wasn’t involved. Now he was a baffling loose end, and I didn’t know what to do about him.
Okay, not true. I wanted to fuck him. Or he could fuck me. I wasn’t picky. And that alone was alarming. Not to mention a classic conflict of interests. I was a pro at those. It was always a case of one thing being good for me and the other, my ruin. Or just a really stupid risk.
Business 101: Don’t fuck where you eat…or with the guy next door.
But I wanted him. Badly.
So, I wandered into his shop after hours with a veiled complaint I hoped would lead to some clarity.
“Your delivery guy blocked my truck in the alley this morning.”
Rob’s sharp gaze raked me over from head to toe then darted to the windows just as Amber opened her car door. Yes, I’d timed my visit well ’cause I sure as hell didn’t want an audience.
“My delivery guy? Which one? , FedEx, UPS, the mailman?”
His words dripped with sarcasm that contrasted with the heat in his eyes.
“I don’t remember. Probably .”
Rob pressed a button on the remote sitting on the counter.
The shades on the front windows lowered with a soft hum as he stepped around me to lock up.
At four o’clock in the afternoon. Bagel hours were sweet, I mused.
Normally I’d have said it aloud too, making sure to add a derisive snort as if I weren’t lowkey jealous of having more than just an occasional evening to myself.
But Rob was in my space—close enough that I could smell cinnamon and garlic and chocolate.
“What do you want me to do about it?” His voice was honey and whiskey—smooth and sexy, and pitched so low it vibrated and hung in the air. Holy shit.
I licked my lips, aware that I’d already lost the thread of the conversation. “Uh…”
“Want me to call customer service and report a loitering vehicle?”
Rob set a forefinger under my chin. I should have swatted him away, shoved his chest, and unleashed some Cavaretti-style wrath. But I couldn’t move. Like…at all.
“What are you doing?” I rasped.
“You tell me.”
Heat clawed under my collar. I couldn’t breathe, and I just—
Oh, fuck it.
I growled and lunged for Rob, crashing our mouths in a mashed-up facsimile of a kiss. So much want and need. I slid my finger through the hair at his nape and deepened the connection, sucking his tongue, nipping his lips, and ravaging him senseless.
Don’t worry. Rob gave as good as he got.
He guided us toward the register, our mouths fused, and stopped when my ass hit the edge of the counter.
Then somehow, I was on the counter, and I couldn’t remember if he’d lifted me or if I’d hopped up myself so I could pull him between my legs and feel his bulge against mine. And fuck me…there it was.
The tease of friction. A sample, a taste.
There and gone.
“Hold up.” Rob broke the kiss, clasping my face. His nose brushed mine, and I could feel his breath on my swollen lips.
I panted, too dazed to push away immediately. “You started it.”
“I know, but…”
Uh-oh. Rejection. I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t hanging around to find out.
“Hey.” I shoved him off with both hands raised like dual stop signs. “Just…don’t…don’t block my truck. Go…call or something.”
Rob didn’t bother hiding his grin. “I’ll get on that first thing in the morning.”
“Good. All right.” I stomped toward the door and of course, it was locked.
He was there in an instant, unlatching the door and holding it open.
“Hang on.” Rob pointed south, adding with a satisfied smirk, “You might want to take a lap. You’ve got a situation on your hands. Or in your jeans.”
True. I had a steel rod behind my zipper and the fabric at my crotch was stretched to maximum capacity.
“That’s what aprons are for.”
His laughter followed me outside into the cool autumn afternoon.
I chuckled as I slipped past the main entrance to the pizzeria and strode to the alley side, taking the stairs to my apartment two at a time.
In my bathroom, I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped, pushed the denim and cotton aside as I clutched the edge of the vanity and jacked my cock, visions of Rob towering over me, offering me his huge dick.
I was on my knees in a flash, and that was the end of me.
Cum spurted on my fist and onto the cracked tile countertop. I caught my reflection in the mirror, noting my bee-stung lips and sex-drugged expression. I wanted to be disgusted. Why him? Why now? But there was no point in philosophizing attraction. It was there or it wasn’t.
For whatever reason, I was very fucking attracted to the bagel guy.
And maybe a little addicted to him.
Every afternoon that week, I stopped by to lodge a new complaint.
Your trash bin should be emptied earlier in the day.
The bagel line shouldn’t cross our entrance.
I made sure Amber wasn’t around. This shit was just for Rob. I wanted to poke him and test this thing between us.
But guess what? It was real.
’Cause every night that I strutted into Great H Bagels, pumped with manufactured angst, intent on riling him, I ended up with my back to the wall, humping and grinding my boner against Rob’s while we sucked face.
Like now.
I didn’t have to say a word. He’d taken one look at me, locked the door, and marched into his office—which, by the way, was a hell of a lot nicer than mine.
My list of daily gripes were forgotten at the sight of this big, burly former linebacker wearing a plaid shirt, worn jeans, and a scowl.
He was my kryptonite, and he had no fucking idea.
Tough, tall, and rugged…sign me the fuck up.
If we’d met at a bar or a club, I would’ve already offered my ass. No doubt about it. The vision of bending over Rob’s office desk was my new fantasy. I wanted to climb him like a tree, suck his cock, and swallow every drop of him, but I couldn’t tell him that.
This was a delicate situation and an unexpected development. I had to treat this with care.
So I admired his muscular biceps, messy hair, and his impressive package, then gestured in the general direction of the entrance. “Your sign is crooked.”
Rob crossed his arms, his expression stony and unreadable. “Oh, really?”
“Really. You should fucking fix that.”
“Make me.”
A crackle of heat and anticipation rose in the charged silence. We could have been a couple of gunslingers in the Wild West, fingers on triggers, wondering who was going to strike first. It was me this time.
I pushed Rob’s chest and pounced, slamming our mouths together.
My heartbeat rang in my ears as I devoured him with a ferocity that made my head spin.
The scent of his cologne and sweat and something uniquely him hit me hard.
I didn’t understand my reaction to him. It was reckless and extreme. So not like me, it was scary.
And get this…I whimpered like a kitten when he hooked his fingers in my belt loops and yanked me closer. Here we were again, making out with roving hands, hungry tongues, and the sweet tease of friction.
I managed to unbuckle Rob’s belt, but I moved slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to stop me.
He didn’t. I unzipped him, hiked his shirt out of the way, and lowered his jeans.
Then I gripped his shaft through his cotton boxer briefs, running my thumb along the head of his cock and the precum leaking at his tip.
Rob broke the kiss with a gasp, eyeing me curiously…or cautiously. I couldn’t be sure. I stilled my hand and awaited the verdict—stop or go?
“On your knees,” he commanded in a deep timbre.
I obeyed in a flash, shoving the elastic band over his hips to free his erection.
And holy shit, I was salivating. No joke. He was thick and hard and so damn perfect. I glanced up…for permission? Maybe. That wasn’t like me, but he’d set something in motion, and I sensed a power play that couldn’t be ignored.
Rob inclined his chin, and it was all the invitation I needed. I gripped his length, squeezing his base slightly as I licked a path to his slit. I twirled my tongue at his crown, lapping up precum like a hungry cat before opening wide. He set a hand on my head and groaned, low and needy.
I hummed around his cock, sucking, licking, stroking.
It had been a while for me and God, it felt so good to worship dick.
No, not just any dick. This was Rob fucking Vilmer.
My memories of him in college might have been hazy, but I’d watched his NFL games.
I’d seen his powerful body in action, obliterating opponents like a warrior in battle.
He was wildly strong and fierce, and nothing turned me on quite as much as knowing he was hard for me.
I couldn’t drag this out and make him beg me. Not this time. I wanted to deep-throat him, taste him, swallow every drop of—
Rob pushed my forehead in warning, pulling his cock free and panting as he met my gaze.
“I’m gonna come.”
“Give it to me,” I demanded.
He squeezed his eyes shut but didn’t protest. I pumped his shaft, flicking my tongue under his crown and sucking it. Two seconds later, he erupted with a strangled growl. I took it all. Everything he had.
I sat on my heels, wiping the corner of my mouth as I looked up at Rob blinking his way back to reality. Was I feeling smug and a little satisfied? Fuck, yeah, I was.
“C’mere.” Rob pulled me to my feet.
I was so caught up in filthy dirty kisses, I barely registered that he’d undone my jeans until he was jerking me off.
It was sensory overload in the extreme, and there was no way to fall apart with dignity.
He silenced my roar with his mouth, softening the connection as I slowly returned to reality.
Oh.
Shit.
I just blew my neighbor.
Christ, not so long ago, I’d sworn I’d never touch Rob again, and look at me now.
There was no point in pretending we didn’t know exactly where this was going, but I was me, so…
“We shouldn’t do this.” I plucked a few tissues from the box on his desk, head lowered as I cleaned up.
Rob straightened my collar, and met my glowering expression with a sunny grin. “No, but we will.”
I frowned, unable to think of a single F U or a sweet comeback to put him in his place.
The best I could do was, “Do something about your crooked sign. This is a respectable neighborhood.”
His melodic laughter followed me all the way out the door. And I couldn’t blame him.
Not one little bit.