Chapter 4
4
O nce again Peter Morgan was all I could think about. I replayed the scene in the private conference room in my head over and over. His intensity had been intimidating and it wasn’t simply his size or how damn good-looking he was either. It seemed like he was fighting to control himself and his hold was tenuous at best.
I analyzed our exchanges and only came away feeling unsettled and confused. He had seemed truly puzzled that I took any offense to his critiques. That wasn’t what had sparked his temper. He didn’t mind it if his suggestions bothered me. He was sure he was correct. End of story.
I had a theory that his agitation had more to do with this… thing between us. I obviously wasn’t the only one affected. It felt like a magnetic tie, an almost physical connection. Which made me wonder if physical release was all we really needed to move on to what we said we would be… coworkers only. Not friends and definitely not lovers, at least not in any lasting sense.
Peter left a message for me late the following afternoon.
“It looks like my flight is delayed.” There was a silence and a sigh on the other end of the line before his deep, low voice sounded again. “I’m in meetings most of the day tomorrow. Why don’t you leave me your address in a voice mail or even e-mail, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night?”
There was a second or two of silence with only airport noises audible in the background before he signed off quickly. It was a weird message. And like the text he sent me a few weeks ago, there was a presumptive, arrogant tone. Or perhaps that was just how I chose to hear it. Maybe he didn’t want me to get the impression he was asking me for a date. Fine by me. I doubted we could stand sitting across a table from each other without tossing it out of the way to get down to business… so to speak. No. The next time we met it would be about sex. Only sex.
I hadn’t said a word to Aaron about anything that had occurred between Peter and me since the conference room escapade. I could make no sense of any of it, and although Aaron was known to possess a wisdom beyond his years, this was mine to figure out. Or it was mine to do and tell him about later.
As instructed by the ever bossy Mr. Morgan, I left him a voice message with my Dupont area address. I told him I would expect him at seven the following evening. A fresh new wave of butterflies invaded my stomach. What was I doing? I’d never had a romantic liaison with a coworker. Ever. I knew this wasn’t smart but I also knew that butterflies or not, I wasn’t going to get him out of my head until something happened.
I went to the gym after work, then stopped by the market to grab something for dinner before finally making my way home. The skies opened up as I hurried to throw my bags into the back of my car. It was a spring rain, but not the gentle flower-coaxing kind. This was a deluge. A sudden and mighty drencher. I threw my head back and reveled in the feel of its potency. I loved it when weather took you unaware and gave you a powerful reminder of who’s boss.
Wearing a big, stupid grin and soaked to the bone, I drove home humming along with pop dance music on my car radio.
I toed off my wet sneakers, set my briefcase aside, and made my way into my kitchen to put my groceries away. I was still sopping wet, but hunger won over comfort. I opened a bag of carrots and a container of hummus, turned on some tunes to keep me company, and snacked while I tidied and organized my purchases.
One of my favorite dance songs came on, and I shook my ass as I moved from the refrigerator to the sink and back again. Between the pounding rain and the driving beat of the music, I found my happy place dancing around my kitchen in wet Lycra shorts and a plastered-on tank top. The top had to go. I shimmied out of it, laughing to myself when I was forced to roll it up my wet chest.
I picked up my damp T-shirt and one more carrot when a different pounding sound made me jump half out of my skin. Maybe it was thunder. I turned my music down and was once again startled by the rapid banging on my front door.
Who the fuck? I gulped. Aaron had a key, and he would have called or left a message first if he was coming by. Because I’d been startled, my heart was beating like a hammer as I peeked through the hole to see who was on the other side.
Peter Morgan.
He was dressed in business attire with a light-colored Burberry raincoat that didn’t stand a chance against what Mother Nature was delivering outside. His dark hair shone with moisture, and through the peephole, I watched him shake his wavy locks as he waited for me to answer.
He looked dangerous, like a wolf waiting for entry. A thought popped in my head that at times like this I should use caution before opening my door. My reckless self surfaced, and I opened the door quickly, ushering him in with a wave of my hand.
“What are you doing here?” I stammered as Peter stepped inside my foyer, dripping the elements on my hardwood flooring.
He opened his mouth to speak, looking almost as surprised to find himself in my home as I was to have him there. His shrewd eyes took in his surroundings before he focused on me. He licked his lips as his gaze roved all over my body, taking in my barely clothed state.
I was holding my wet T-shirt in my hand and my bare chest was still slightly damp. I wiggled my bare feet and looked down, realizing I was wearing only a thin pair of shorts. I was taken aback by the fierce desire I saw written all over Peter’s handsome face. He swallowed hard, massaging the back of his neck in a familiar gesture of frustration. He looked flustered and out of his depth.
“I… frankly I don’t know what I’m doing here.” He gave a humorless half laugh before looking directly at me. “Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m here.”
I gulped audibly.
I suppose I should have acted the part of good host. I should have offered to take his coat and make him something warm to drink. But I couldn’t find my voice, and I found it very hard to breathe, let alone think coherently with Peter standing in my entry.
“Can I come in?”
Suddenly I found my voice, but it was a jumble of nervous words, just as I’d feared.
“Y-yes. Yes! Sorry. Here, let me take your coat. Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink? This weather is so weird. Typical spring, I guess. Sunny one minute, and the next it’s….”
“Hey.”
I started at the sound of Peter’s low, sexy voice. He had removed his raincoat and draped it over the bench in the foyer. His head was cocked to the side and his smile was kind, as though he was trying to coax a frightened animal out of hiding. The warmth in his eyes and the sweetness of his smile were beguiling. I knew I would do any and everything Peter wanted right then and there. All he had to do was ask.
“Come here.”
My feet moved seemingly of their own volition until suddenly we were standing inches apart.
“Look at me.”
I tilted my head to meet his eyes, grateful that we were close to the same height. His intense gaze was enough to make me weak at the knees. I held my ground, but still couldn’t seem to find my voice. I was afraid if I opened my mouth I’d offer him some warm socks or something equally lame. I had a feeling he had something much different in mind, and I wanted him to take the lead. He didn’t disappoint.
“I couldn’t wait. I want you, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I want this. Us. Do you want this too? One night. Now.”
The last part was said like a challenge. A dare. I looked away for a moment before turning back to answer him.
“You have too many clothes on. Come upstairs.”
His nostrils flared appreciatively at my response as his hands drew me forward into a crushing embrace. I jumped back as my bare flesh met the cool fabric of his suit coat. I gave a nervous-sounding giggle and inclined my head for him to follow me. My heart was beating double-time as I climbed the stairs. I was ultra-aware of the sounds in my house for some reason. I could hear the faint dance music I’d left on in my kitchen.
Rihanna singing about being under an umbrella, I think. I could hear the incessant pounding of the rain on the windowpane and Peter’s even tread on the steps behind me as he followed me to my bedroom. I hadn’t been this nervous since my first time, when I fumbled around with Danny Barton in his bedroom during our lunch break when we were juniors in high school. I’d been sixteen at the time. This was an entirely different kind of nervousness.
My room was tidy, thankfully. I’m not a complete neat freak, but I like order. A quick sweep told me I’d done the basics before I’d left early that morning for work. Bed made, clothes picked up, no towels on the floor. Whew . I turned to face Peter with a somewhat pasted smile fixed to my face. He was taking in his surroundings again, but he gave me that lopsided wolfish grin when he caught my look.
“Your place is nice.”
I nodded my thanks, afraid that I’d start talking about designer-brand duvets, towels, and my preferred thread count if I opened my mouth. Peter did that hand behind his neck thing again, and I realized for the first time that perhaps he was nervous too. I had to say something. We were both out of our comfort zones.
“Thanks. I just repainted my room, actually the whole house, or most of the rooms about six months ago. I guess it was just before the holidays. I decided to go with a silver blue in this ro?—”
Peter pulled me into his arms and sealed his mouth over mine. I think the kiss was meant to stop the flow of speech rather than as a precursor to passion, but it quickly became just that: a sensual fusion of lips and tongues. He tasted minty, like he’d been sucking on peppermint candy. Cool, fresh, and still uniquely Peter.
He bit at my lips playfully, then pressed small kisses along my chin. The feel of his scruffy chin against my own was unexpectedly stimulating. I loved a man with sexy stubble, but I was always careful to shave closely myself. I didn’t expect this tonight so I hadn’t physically prepared myself the way I would have if I’d known he was coming.
Peter groaned aloud, obviously as turned on as I was. I could feel his erection through his gabardine trousers as I stepped in between his thighs in an attempt to get closer. Peter pulled me in, caressing my shoulders, then back muscles before dipping his fingers inside the elastic band of my shorts.
He stilled his roaming hands and returned to the business of kissing me senseless. He was an expert kisser, his full lips sensuously playing over mine until I had no thought but that I wanted more.
I felt his hands slip inside my shorts to cup my bare ass. A shudder went through me as I pressed close and wondered if I could almost come from that simplest of touches. Damn. At this rate I wasn’t sure I’d survive the actual deed. Peter kneaded my ass cheeks in his big hands and pulled my body hard against his. His power and strength were intoxicating.
I reached up to begin the daunting chore of unbuttoning his oxford shirt. He freed one of his hands and tugged at his tie, but before I got three buttons done, he pushed me backward toward the bed. The back of my knees hit the mattress and I fell, making sure to take him with me.
Peter chuckled at my antics but pulled away and swiftly yanked my workout shorts over my hips and off my body. I was bare-ass naked, sprawled on my navy duvet with my fully clothed sexy boss standing over me.
“You are so fucking pretty.” His voice was low and sounded strained as though he were working hard to maintain control.
I started to sit up in order to bring him down with me, but he held his hand up in that authoritarian way.
“No. I want to see you first.” He licked his lips lasciviously while he worked on the remaining buttons of his shirt. “Touch yourself, Jay.”
My breath hitched at his command. It sounded so dirty coming from him, but erotic as hell too. I placed my right hand over my achingly hard dick, using my thumb to smear precum over the swollen head. With my left hand I reached down and fondled my balls gently while I set a slow rhythm with my right hand stroking myself.
My eyes were hooded, but I watched Peter watching me while he worked on ridding himself of his clothes. His shirt was now completely undone, but still on his broad shoulders. His hand was at his zipper. And then he pushed his own pants and boxers away, finally revealing his incredibly beautiful body. He was bigger than me. Longer and thicker. I licked my lips in anticipation.
“Sexy boy,” he muttered as he leaned over, planting kisses all over my chest, stopping to suck each nipple in turn. I arched off of the bed and made a grab for his heavy cock. I had to touch him. He made a tsking sound and pulled my arms above my head.
“No.”
“I want to touch you. Please.”
“You will, but first lie still. I want to make you feel good.”
Peter splayed his hands firmly over my chest, then wrapped them around my hips as he settled his large body between my thighs. I could barely breathe. Anticipation had me whimpering hopefully. I nearly flew off the bed when he bent to take my hard cock in his mouth in one fell swoop.
“Peter! Fuck.”
He looked up at me briefly before taking my flesh in his right hand and running his tongue firmly up and down each side. Then he swallowed me whole again.
“Aghh.” I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him work his magic on me as he alternated between sucking, licking, and squeezing my painfully hard member while his hands securely held me down.
“Stop.” I leaned forward and pulled at Peter’s hair. I was close to losing it, and I wanted something more. If I was only going to have one chance, then I wanted to come while he was inside me.
Peter’s full lips were swollen, and his eyes were clouded with lust. He was in a sensual zone and didn’t seem to register my request. I licked my lips and tried again.
“Please. I want you to fuck me.” My voice was low, almost a whisper, but he heard me.
He swallowed once and kissed the head of my dick before shifting his body up to finally cover mine. The delicious feel of his heavy, naked body sent a shiver of need through my bloodstream. I wanted him so badly it hurt.
Peter cupped my chin with his thumb and forefinger and slipped his tongue between my lips. I could taste myself in his kiss. I writhed under him, in danger of spiraling out of control. I begged him again. This time he shifted off of me completely, and I moaned at the loss of his weight.
“Do you have condoms?”
Peter was leaning back with his thick, hard cock in hand, while he eyed me expectantly. I felt like I was hearing everything underwater, and it took me a moment to comprehend.
Condoms. Right. Yes. I had those. Lube too.
I jumped up and leaned over to retrieve the supplies from the nightstand drawer. I heard Peter’s soft chuckle behind me and then felt his sudden large presence directly behind me. I gulped at the feel of his pulsating sex playfully nudging at my crack. Peter pulled me into his arms, my back pressed to his broad chest as his hands roamed freely over my body, pinched my nipples, then dipped lower to tug and tease my cock.
“Peter, please….”
He kissed my ear and snatched the bottle of lube and the condom from my hands.
“How do you want it, Jay?” he purred.
“Uh….” Again he gave a half laugh and gently pushed me forward.
“On your knees, then, since we’re already here. Bend over.”
Every command sounded like something out of a gay porn flick, but the seductive tone and timbre of his voice made it all unique somehow. I nodded and bent my body forward, supporting my weight with my elbows.
I could hear Peter moving behind me and feel his presence as he settled back between my legs. With one hand he massaged the flesh of my ass. I felt the cool, wet sensation of lube as he brushed his fingers against my hole. He rubbed gently before allowing a single digit to penetrate. I moaned aloud and instinctively pushed back into his sure touch.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Jay.”
My mouth was wide open, and I could barely think straight much less find an eloquent way to answer him.
“You want me to fuck you, baby?”
Baby . Hmmm. I groaned in consent, shifting my ass farther back into his lap, shamelessly begging for more. More fingers. His cock. Just more.
The sound of a condom being unwrapped sent another wave of unbridled desire racing through me. My right hand flew to my aching dick in the hopes of aiding my release. A sharp smack on my right cheek had me turning indignantly to cast an evil eye over my shoulder.
“Don’t touch yourself until I say so. You hear?”
I could hear his southern accent in his command. A sure sign that his control was perilously being tested. I nodded in acquiescence and smiled wickedly, shaking my ass at my lover as I waited. He slapped my other cheek before placing his sheathed and lubed cock at my hole.
“Peter. Hurry the fuck up. You are killing me here already!”
“Don’t worry, honey. I got ya.”
I felt the first push of his thick flesh enter my body, and tensed. He was big, much bigger than anyone I’d been with in a long time. Suddenly I regretted my impetuousness. If he went too fast, I’d have a hard time walking the next day. Peter stopped and ran a soothing hand over my back, my ass, and down my legs.
“Shh. It’s okay now. Tell me when you’re ready, hot shot.”
“Fuck!” I wanted to yell at him but it hurt too much. I had a sudden fear that I’d have to tell him I couldn’t do this. I was more than a little grateful we weren’t face to face.
He pushed in a little farther and stilled again. The pain receded and was instantly replaced by a wave of pleasure so great my breath faltered. I pushed back into his pelvis experimentally, loving the feel of him inside me. I wanted to be sure I could handle him before I started begging.
“Does that mean you want more, baby?”
“Y-yes. Fuck yes!”
My hands clutched at the bedsheets as Peter firmly held my hips and plowed his thick cock inside me. He set a moderate pace at first. His hands alternately soothed and petted or lightly slapped at my ass. I rose on my arms and pushed back to meet him thrust for thrust. Peter pulled me back, shifting so that I was sitting in his lap impaled by his flesh.
“Ride me, Jay,” he growled.
Damn. I closed my eyes and leaned back into him, forcing him to support my weight while I did as he commanded. I wrapped my right hand around my cock knowing I was close to losing it, when again he smacked it away. I smacked back at his thigh and heard his rumble of laughter reverberate through his chest in amusement.
“Let me do it, honey.”
Peter wrapped a strong hand around my member and stroked me firmly, his hips steadily pounding my ass in perfect rhythm. I felt my orgasm approach like a freight train, the strength and power of it throwing my body into spasms of pleasure. I rode out wave after wave until I was literally wilted against my lover’s chest.
Peter kissed my neck and massaged my shoulders repeatedly. Then he pushed me gently forward, his cock still rock hard inside me, demanding its own release. I lay flat on my stomach and arched my ass slightly in invitation. Peter’s muscular arms caged my head as he moved inside me taking what he needed. His hips slammed into me mercilessly until his body stiffened and his arms collapsed, folding me in a fierce embrace as orgasm claimed him.
He lay on top of me motionless for a full minute before oxygen deprivation became an issue and I was forced to alert him. He shifted his weight up on his arms and ever so gently unattached himself from me, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. I mustered up the strength to peek over at my bed partner lying beside me. Peter ran his hand through his hair, his gaze fixed skyward lost in thought. I hoped he didn’t regret what we’d done. I knew I didn’t.
“What are you thinking?” I’m not good with uncertainty. If he wanted out, then I didn’t want a prolonged, weird exchange.
Peter turned his head toward me and smiled, his eyes bright with humor.
“You like to talk, don’t you?”
“I guess. I was wondering if you’re okay. That’s all.”
His grin faded, and I had a moment of dread. Great. Here’s where it gets uncomfortable , I thought.
“Come here.”
Peter leaned over me and kissed my nose sweetly before gathering my six-foot-three frame to his body, forcing my head down on his chest. I poked my head up to look at him from that somewhat awkward angle. The grin was back and his eyes were twinkling. I smiled in return and laid my head back down on his chest, relishing the feel of his fingers in my hair and the steady beat of his heart at my cheek.
A flash of lightning followed closely by a loud rumble of thunder startled me awake a short while later. My head was still plastered to my lover’s broad chest as my eyes shot open. A short nap may have delayed the awkward, but it still had to be dealt with. This may have been a one-time experience, but unlike my night with Justin, I was going to have to see Peter again. At work, no less.
I mentally berated myself for succumbing to temptation. I would surely pay for this one way or another. It had been amazing but we’d both made it clear that this was something we needed to get out of our systems. One time or one night. I wasn’t clear on that, but either way, I felt unsure and maybe a little cheated somehow.
“You awake?” Peter asked as he ran his big hands over my back in a sweetly soothing gesture.
“Mm hm.” I lifted my head and peeked up at him.
“Sounds stormy out there.”
“Yeah.” Talk about the weather. Good idea. It was always a safe topic.
“What’s going on in your head? I get the impression that it’s better when you talk. You look like you’re thinking way too hard.” His voice was light with humor, but it was uncanny how correct he was. I was dangerous when my mind was left to wander aimlessly.
“I was thinking about food,” I lied. “Are you hungry?”
Peter didn’t answer. Maybe he was trying to figure out the best way out of my house without being unkind. Or maybe he was going to humor me and….
“Yes, I’m a little hungry. I would suggest going out for something, but it doesn’t sound very inviting out there.”
“Well, lucky for you I had just come from the market before you arrived and was going to make myself a little something. There’s plenty for two. Come on.”
I playfully leaned on his thigh as I rose from the bed. I decided to play this casually. That was what he wanted. If I stuck to a safe subject like food, I could pull it off and we just might avoid any real discomfort.
We made our way downstairs a short while later. I had slipped on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Peter’s clothes were still damp from the rain, so I gave him some sweats and a tee to borrow, forgetting that there really is nothing sexier than a lover wearing your clothes. We were close enough in height that he was able to comfortably don my things, but Peter was definitely thicker and more muscular than me so my T-shirt was a snug fit across his broad muscular chest. A sexy snug fit.
I gulped and turned my attention to the vegetables I was rinsing for our salad. I’d left the music on earlier, and Beyoncé’s soulful voice accompanied the steady beat of rain against the kitchen windowpane. It felt cozy and inviting, like being nestled in a warm cocoon.
“You like to cook?” Peter asked politely as he sipped the chardonnay I’d just poured him.
“Yes. I love it. It’s therapeutic somehow, you know?”
Why did I say that? It sounded weird. Now I’d be forced to explain the calming properties of chopping onions. I wasn’t up to the task. Not tonight. I was feeling the strangest mix of physical contentment and inner turmoil. I knew anything but the most innocuous conversation coming from my mouth would be dangerous.
“I do know.”
I looked across my small kitchen island at him in surprise. He was sitting on one of the barstools pulled up to the island, one arm draped casually over the back of the chair while the other rested on the granite surface. He looked perfectly at ease, much in the same way he did in a boardroom meeting. He also looked sincere. I forgot what we’d been talking about, though. I was so easily distracted around him. Damn.
“What do you know?”
Peter laughed, his eyes squinting in easy humor.
“I was agreeing with you that cooking is therapeutic. Or at least that it can be.” He was letting me off the hook, although there was a spark in his eyes that told me he was very tempted to tease me.
“Do you like to cook?” I paid close attention to my veggies. They provided a good excuse not to make eye contact with my handsome guest.
“Yes. My mom is?—”
“Italian. Oh, is she an amazing cook? I love Italian food. Real Italian food, mind you. Where is she from in Italy? I loved the food in Florence when I was there.”
Silence. Only Destiny’s Child singing to me in the background. Didn’t he hear me? I looked up at Peter, who was wearing a highly amused grin.
“What is so funny?”
“You. I noticed it earlier. You talk a lot. One sentence runs into the next. It’s kind of….”
“Annoying? Sorry, I’ll try to slow down. I can’t help myself some?—”
“Shh. I was going to say cute.”
“Oh.”
“My mother is from Cortona. It’s a small hilltop village about forty-five minutes from Florence by train.”
“I know exactly where that is! I was there, believe it or not. It’s tiny. It seems like one of those places where you literally know everyone in your town. Does she?”
“What?”
“Know everyone?”
“Well, not anymore. She’s lived in the States now for thirty-plus years. She has a brother who still lives there but everyone else is gone now.”
“Oh. Do you go back at all now to visit your uncle?”
“It’s been at least five years since I’ve been back to Italy. My parents go every year, but I can’t take more than a week off at a time, so vacations are hard.”
“Where was the last place you went that you loved… vacation-wise?”
I loved to travel. Just thinking about the thrill of discovery in travel excited me to no end. I could talk about places I’d been to and wanted to go to for hours. We’d discussed traveling at the dinner Aaron set us up at, but we hadn’t gone into any depth. I was curious about what someone who travels as much as Peter does for work would have to say about his experiences. Some people hate it, which floors me.
“Actually it could be someplace you stumbled on for work too or with a friend,” I added as a disclaimer.
“Hmm. I don’t… Santa Fe.” Peter slapped his hand down on the island in decisive manner, and leaned back comfortably in his chair.
“Santa Fe? New Mexico?” I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes with the back of my hand as I peered over at him.
“Yes, it’s a special place. I can’t really describe it, but….”
“Try,” I insisted. I loved the deep timbre of his voice. I’d rather hear him tell me about a place I’d never been than listen to my own jumbled attempts at conversation. Plus I enjoyed his company. He was proving an easier companion than I would have thought.
“O-kay….” He hesitated.
“What is the food like? What about the nightlife? The people? The architecture? What makes it special?” I was waving my knife as I warmed up to my subject. Really. It wasn’t that hard to figure out why you liked a particular place.
Peter laughed, throwing his head back. I set the knife aside and put a hand on my hip, cocking my head to the side as I waited to find out what the hell was so amusing.
“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you… well, maybe I am. But it’s just because you’re….”
“Talkative?”
“Unique.”
Oh. I liked that. I smiled and picked my knife up. I waved it once in the air in his general direction letting him know I was still waiting for his answer. He wasn’t going to distract me this time.
“Let’s see. It was about a year ago that I was there. I had business in Albuquerque and a day to kill in between meetings so I took the train to Santa Fe. I was only there for a day, but it made an impression. The food rivaled my mom’s cooking. And yes to your earlier question… she’s a great cook.” He winked at me before continuing. “The colors were what struck me the most. I’d never seen a sky so blue. The market umbrellas and bright pottery… I can’t really describe it. Just brilliant. There are quite a few churches in town, and some are hundreds of years old. But there are also many indigenous people. People who truly belong to the land, if that makes sense. The result is a perfect communion of nature and religion. The entire place reminded me of an outdoor cathedral. A spiritual place.”
Peter’s voice was hypnotic. He had obviously been enthralled with his short visit, but it wasn’t Santa Fe that had me looking quizzically across the island at my guest. It was his sudden burst of passion. The only other time I’d ever heard him speak so openly and passionately about something that didn’t have to do with work was when he asked me to meet him at his club.
I swallowed hard and averted my eyes back to my task. I had to be careful around him. He was showing me a side to him that I could very well fall for.
“I’d love to go someday.” I tried for nonchalant, but knew my tone was off.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What is the last best vacation spot you loved?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. It was an endearing gesture. Silly and sweet. I chuckled as I pulled out two plates for our dinner. I had made a salad nicoise with fresh tuna, hard-boiled eggs, green beans, red onions, and tiny new potatoes. Fresh-baked bread was set in a basket nearby. I picked up the bottle of chardonnay and topped off Peter’s glass and my own before taking the barstool next to him.
“Mine tends to always be the last place I visited. I’m unoriginal that way. I love it all.”
“Well, then where was the last place you were that you liked? This is great, by the way. Thank you.”
My heart did a funny little flip at his compliment. Damn, I was easy.
“My last vacation was to Miami for the White Party.”
Peter placed a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud with a mouth full of food.
“You really are gay if you know what that is, then, aren’t you?”
He quickly regained composure, though his smile was firmly in place as he picked up his fork to spear a potato.
“I mustn’t have done a very good job of fucking you if you have to ask that.”
Just like that, all the blood in my body went south. My cock was instantly hard and heavy between my thighs making me feel more than a little breathless. A glance in Peter’s direction told me he felt it too. An electric current sizzled between us. He was staring at me with lust and longing in his eyes. I opened my mouth to say something… anything to get the balance back, to return to a safe zone, but I couldn’t do it.
I leaned closer to him, our knees brushing under the counter, our elbows brushing above while our gazes locked. Peter made up the distance. I heard myself sigh aloud as our lips touched. Peter turned in his seat and pulled me closer to him as he darted his tongue inside my mouth. I tasted the chardonnay on his lips and on his tongue. I wanted nothing more than to crawl onto his lap, to be as physically close to him as I possibly could be.
Fuck it. If all I was getting was one night, I was taking it. I would deal with regrets later.
I moved completely into his space, never breaking the kiss, as I brought my arms up to circle Peter’s neck. I pressed our bodies close as I rose to stand between his legs. The height was all wrong now, though, and we both groaned in frustration at the loss of physical contact.
Peter stood suddenly and molded his body to mine. I could feel his hard-on through my sweat pants, and it turned me on like a switch. I rubbed my pelvis against his to create a friction of any sort. I wanted him again. Now. Here on the kitchen island or maybe over the table. I didn’t care how. Just now.
Peter’s hands were all over me. He was all about getting to my bare skin. His hands roamed up inside my shirt, tweaking my sensitive nipples before sliding behind me to caress my back and my ass. I whimpered when I felt one of his fingers riding between my ass cheeks.
“Any condoms down here or do we have to go upstairs?” He purred in my ear, then licked the shell and bit my earlobe, sending shivers running down my spine.
“Desk drawer, next to the refrigerator.” At least I hoped I had one in there. Preferably lubed.
Peter went to retrieve the condom, fumbling through two-dozen pens, scissors, and God only knows what else in my kitchen junk drawer. He gave me a “what the hell?” look before he struck gold and flashed a pirate’s grin in my direction. My knees weakened at the sight of him opening the condom and pulling the sweats down just far enough to release his turgid cock.
My breathing was fast and erratic as I waited for him to come back to my side. He stopped in front of me, fastening his lips over mine in a passionate kiss. I felt a slight pressure on my shoulder and looked up into Peter’s eyes. The sensation of his bare cock against my stomach was intoxicating.
His very masculine presence and evident desire were exhilarating. I was ready to go all over again. He licked at my lips again and held my chin upturned in his hand.
“Suck me, Jay.” He pushed at my shoulder again, in case I didn’t quite understand the message a second time.
I dropped to my knees on my kitchen floor and quickly obeyed his order. I had wanted this almost from the moment I met him. To feel and taste him on my tongue. It was a good thing I was on my knees; desire would have brought me there either way. Peter’s dick was leaking judicious amounts of precum, and it was hard to the point of looking painful. I licked at the broad head, tasting him for the first time, and groaned in delight.
I loved sex. Period. But the truth was that I loved the taste of a man more than anything. And Peter tasted amazing. Special. I teased him with cat-like licks, ignoring the pressure of his hands on my head.
“Fuck!” he growled as I finally gave in and swallowed him whole. I sucked and licked at him like a man possessed. I couldn’t get enough. His strong hands suddenly stopped my movement, and he pulled me effortlessly to my feet. Peter wanted something else.
He pulled my sweats down far enough to cup my bare ass in his hands, kneading the flesh as he ground his hips into mine. My stomach was damp from our collective precum. We were both on edge. Peter picked me up and shuffled a few feet back, leaning me against the sturdy wood surface of the kitchen table.
“Can I fuck you again? Can I fuck you here?”
His voice was low and thick with desire. I couldn’t speak, so I nodded and sat back on the table, thankful that it was well made and would hold my weight. I opened my legs wide and invited my lover in. Peter made quick work rolling on the condom before he plunged inside my tight channel. I gasped at the sensation, but wrapped my legs around his ass and used the heels of my feet to urge him on.
It was a fast fuck. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake. I held on as Peter plunged in over and over, coming seconds after I did. Other than grunts and moans, we were silent in our quest for release. Peter rested his forehead against mine and kissed me before pulling himself gently from my body. I sat up on the table feeling a little disoriented and amazed by our rapid and intense passionate spiral.
Peter was at my side a moment later with some wet paper towels. He wiped up the semen coating my stomach and made a motion for me to turn around so he could do the same with my ass. My eyebrows shot up and Peter laughed.
“Now you’re feeling modest?”
“Yes. I can wash my own parts. Thanks all the same.”
He looked like he wanted to argue with me, but decided to grant me this one. He nodded, disposed of the paper towel, and washed his hands at the sink before turning back to face me.
“You still hungry? For food?” I asked lamely.
Peter chuckled and leaned in to kiss me once more on the mouth. It was an affectionate, sweet kiss. A boyfriend-like kiss. I relished in the sweetness of the gesture while mentally kicking myself as I felt the fall begin. It was like being pushed over a waterfall, knowing you have no choice but to follow its course and let it take you where it will. I didn’t know how I would manage any of that when this was all I was going to get.
The whole night was magical. We finished our dinner, washed dishes, and cleaned the kitchen together. Conversation was light and easy. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Food, work, more travel.
We made love a third time in my bedroom. It was slow and sweet. I could have wept at the perfection of our joining. He fit me so well. He was big and masculine in all the right ways, and he seemed to know exactly what to do to make me fly.
When I woke the next morning, I was alone in my bed. The sun was making a gallant attempt to break through the morning clouds while birds chirped joyfully outside my window. But my lover was long gone. Unlike my one-night stand with Justin the waiter, my heart felt a little heavy at Peter’s absence.
Like then, I knew that nothing could come from our night together, but I was a fool. Peter was nothing like Justin. He was no ordinary one-night stand, and he wasn’t going to be so easy to get over.