6. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Noel
W e were stuck in New York traffic, which was nothing new, but I was feeling agitated, already annoyed to be running late. I had planned to fetch Branson from his place, but something had come up at work and he’d said he would instead meet me at the bar. Pulling out my phone, I browsed through some of our messages from earlier in the week and before.
Me: Date night options for Friday - football game, concert, dinner, drinks, or dancing. Or a combination of all of the above?
Kitten: Any of the above for our FRIEND DATE.
Me: Drinks and dancing it is for our……date date ;)
Kitten: Noel!
Me: Yes?
Kitten: You're insufferable. Are you free later to call?
Me: Y ou say insufferable, I say wonderful. I'm always free for you. Will call you around nine. Xx
Fuck, I loved talking to him. That night we had been on the phone until midnight, when he’d finally fallen asleep and I’d ended the call, sending him a text to let him know I would call him in the morning. He’d quickly become a part of my day - at least a message or a call or my day would be shit. I scrolled back further, smiling at the message my finger landed on.
Kitten: If you could pick any movie to be a character in, what would it be?
Me: Very random, but I’ll play along. I would pick The Fast and The Furious. I like fast cars. What about you?
Kitten: Not what I expected but an acceptable answer. For me, Twilight. I’d be the long lost other brother. A super hot, gay vampire who falls in love with the town’s doctor or someone else of importance and I’d sparkle so prettily in the sunlight.
Me: Oddly specific, but I can see it. I think you sparkle already without the fangs and thirst for blood.
Kitten: You flatter me, Mr Bennett. Next question.
Me: Why are you asking me questions? And what exactly did you expect my answer to be?
Kitten: I’m bored at work and this is how friends get to know each other better. And as for your answer, I thought more of something like The Godfather.
Me: Because you think I look good in a suit or….?
Kitten: No comment.
The conversation had gone on for another hour, Branson asking me some rather ridiculous questions, but I had answered each and every one with a smile on my face. I read through a few more of our exchanges before I felt the car come to a stop. Looking up from my phone, I saw that my driver had pulled up to the curb outside of Angels, the wine bar on the Upper East Side that I had chosen for this evening. It was a great place that served the most delicious sharing plates and wines from around the globe and after eleven, the front of the bar area was converted into a small dance floor.
“We’re here, Sir,” my driver, Raymond, said, turning to face me in the backseat.
“Thank you, Ray. You head home now, I will grab a cab for the ride home,” I said, and then climbed out of the car and headed towards the entrance as he pulled away.
My hands were sweating. Why the fuck were my hands sweating? I never felt nervous and certainly not over a date or a ‘friend date’ as Branson insisted we call it. Maybe because, for the first time in a seriously long time, I actually wanted something permanent with the person I was meeting up with. Something more than sex or a fun time, forgotten about once the sun had risen.
When that thought had hit me - while I was sitting in my office trying to read over a profit report but instead thinking of the cute blond yet again - my pulse had raced and warmth radiated in my chest as though just the thought of Branson had the power to set my blood alight. Could you be this infatuated with a person after one night together? Was that a thing?
It took me a few heartbeats to realise that if it was or wasn’t was inconsequential to me. My feelings towards Branson had developed swiftly and unexpectedly, and yes, this was so far from my usual modus operandi, but one thing I never did was doubt myself. I had learned a long time ago to trust my gut and it hadn’t led me astray yet.
Life wasn’t always so clear cut but on this I was certain. I liked him and I wanted him. Not for just the night, not just for another fuck in a bathroom, but to actually get to know, to care for, to spend time with. The only hurdle in the way was his persistence at calling us ‘just friends.’ If he didn’t like me in that way, I would back off. I wasn’t about to force my charming self on anyone, but my gut told me that wasn’t the case.
Lack of self-doubt aside though, I had sent Caleb a message asking him how he knew he liked August in a ‘let’s be boyfriends’ kind of way and he had rather unhelpfully responded with a laughing emoji and the words, WHO IS THIS AND WHERE IS NOEL? I did not entertain his snark with a reply.
For the past month, Branson and I had texted and spoken on the phone and while the conversations had started off as mostly back and forth banter and loads of inappropriate memes, in the last week - since Branson had agreed to see me - things had been flirtier. We’d also taken to talking long into the night, about work, and hobbies and about things of little importance, but that felt very important at the time. Once or twice, he’d drifted off to sleep, the phone still connected and I’d found myself wishing we were together in my bed rather than on different sides of the city.
Pressing the door to the bar open and stepping inside, I was met by a rush of warm air and the subtle scent of grapes and garlic. Sensual jazz played, filling the place with a welcoming tempo. My eyes scanned the dimly lit bar, until landing on the object of all my latest fantasies. He was dressed in tight black jeans - so tight there was no chance he had underwear on. My dick twitched at the thought. His hair was a mess, and my hands sat restless at my sides, the urge to run them through his blonde locks was overwhelming.
Straightening my shoulders, I crossed the floor, reaching Branson just as he turned to face the bartender. Using the element of surprise I now had, I leaned in close, resting one hand on his hip.
“Kitten,” I whispered into his ear, then took a deep inhale, delighting in the smell of him. Vanilla, sugar and lemons - like my own personal tropical paradise. Slowly, Branson turned around, placing one hand to my chest, forcing me to take a step back.
“Hey,” he said, pressing up onto his toes and placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Great place you chose.” Branson lifted his hand and waved it around the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Oh no, tonight is all on me. What can I get you?” Standing next to Branson, my fingertips brushing against him, I was aware that my infatuation with the man was far stronger than I’d first thought. Fuck me, he had well and truly broken me, and while he had no fucking idea his effect on me, I was certain one more night would not be enough.
“I’ll take something red - surprise me.” I stepped up to the bar, keeping Branson on my right and ordered us a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from Stellenbosch in South Africa. With the bottle and two glasses in hand, I led him over to a cordoned off area at the back of the bar, nodded to the security guard manning the entrance as we passed. Beyond the ropes were a series of small, black marble topped tables and plush red sofas.
“Oooh fancy, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get into my pants.” He threw a dirty smirk my way and that combined with the sparkle in his eyes, sent a shiver racing through me.
God, he was sexy with his ruffled, dirty blonde hair and his rosy lips and matching pink tinted cheeks.
“Who says I’m not?” I asked, leading him to one of the unoccupied sofas where he plopped down with little finesse, crossing his right leg over his knee and watching me while I poured two glasses of wine.
“Friends don’t hit on friends, Noel,” Branson playfully chastised me.
“We still playing the ‘just friends’ game, kitten?” I took the seat next to him, turning so we were face to face. This close up, I could see the line of freckles that ran across his nose as well as the small scar he had above his one eyebrow. All things I had missed at the wedding. We’d kissed then, but it had been rushed and messy. Now looking at him, my eyes focused on his lips, and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick them. I wondered if he tasted as sweet as he had before.
“We are friends. It’s not a game. But I get why you’d think otherwise, I mean, I am irresistible.” Branson licked his lips then and I wasn’t sure if he did it on purpose or not until he chuckled. Ripping my eyes from his delicious lips, I turned and took a sip of my wine, ignoring the heat starting to pool in my groin, the stirring of desire building with every second we were together.
“That you are, Branson. That you are. Now tell me, how’s New York treating you?” His attempts to keep his distance were cute, but I could see the lust in his eyes, it was the same look he gave me on the dance floor that night at the wedding. I was on a mission to woo him. Woo him right the fuck into my bed and my thousand thread count luxury sheets.
“Eh, it’s okay,” Branson shrugged before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s loads of fun and I’ve had a great time here, but it’s not what I had expected when I first moved over.”
“In what way?” I asked, curious as to why he felt that way about the city.
“It’s not one thing. It’s just a lot harder here than back in London. I miss my friends and my mum and though I’ve made connections, it’s not the same. And the guys I've met have all treated me like….” his words trailed off and I bristled. It wasn't jealousy, it was a deep dislike at the idea of anyone upsetting him or treating him badly.
“Treated you like?” I prompted, but he just shrugged again, sipping on his wine.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say, I haven’t found what I’m looking for in New York City. How about you? You like it here?”
“I do, but I get what you were saying about missing people back in London. Some days I feel homesick.”
“And what do you do when you feel that way?” Branson wore a small, somewhat hopeful smile as he leaned closer, resting his leg against mine.
“I hop on my jet and go to London.” It really was as simple as that, but I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
His smile dropped and was replaced by a frown. “Oh, well, I guess that’s a good plan if you have the means.”
Foot in mouth. Well done Noel.
Not knowing how to backtrack on what I had said, I changed the topic. “I saw August and Caleb last month soon after they returned from their honeymoon.”
His features perked up at the mention of his best friend. “How were they? It sounds like they had the best time.”
“Um, horny?”
Branson burst out laughing and it washed over me like warm water. Sweet and melodic with a hint of playfulness that was part of the very essence of the man next to me.
“That tracks,” he said, his lips curving up into a beaming smile.
Silence fell between us and time seemed to pause, warping into a space where only the two of us existed. The look in Branson's eyes, the sparkle, the hunger, it all boosted my confidence and I leaned into him and pressed my lips to the spot just below his ear. His breath hitched and his body shuddered ever so slightly.
“You shouldn't look at me like that,” I mused, my nose tracing the pulse in his neck.
“Like what?” he breathed out.
“Like you want me to lay you out on this sofa and devour you. To press you down into it and make you fly.” His gulp was audible, and I chuckled, my lips still exploring the skin on his neck.
In one swift movement, I reached both my hands around his waist and hauled him onto my lap. He let out a shocked gasp but didn’t protest as I nestled him against my hard cock and placed one hand on the back of his neck.
“Noel,” he whispered, and it sounded like a plea, but a plea for more or a plea to stop, I wasn't sure.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Branson shook his head, no, but at the same time said, “Friends don’t do this.”
I had to give it to him, his will to keep this platonic was strong, but I could feel desire radiating from him that I knew was far stronger.
“Fuck friends. I'll ask again, do you want me to stop?”
He let out a frustrated, somewhat adorable growl and threw his head back, uttering what sounded like ‘white flags’ before locking his eyes with mine. “No.”
Satisfied, I pulled Branson down, bringing his body flush with mine and his throat within kissing distance. I licked a stripe up the side then sucked his ear lobe into my mouth, giving it a sharp bite before releasing it to ask, “Do you think about that night?”
Branson let out a groan, a deep rumble that vibrated through him. He felt so fucking good on top of me. The weight of his lean body pressing against mine was perfect. No, not perfect. Exquisite.
“Yes.” It was said on a breath, barely a word.
“So do I. And I want to do it again. But I’d do things much differently this time.” Simultaneously, I moved one hand to rest gently on his hip while the other ghosted between us, coming to land on his denim covered erection.
“Tell me,” he all but moaned.
“This time,” I rocked my hips up so he could feel what he did to me. “This time, I’d strip you slowly, removing your top first, kissing every inch of skin on display. Then I’d pull off these sinful jeans,” I rubbed his cock, deepening the pressure as I continued, “and lay you on my bed. Your pale skin would look stunning against my navy sheets.”
“And then?” Branson snaked one of his hands under my shirt and rubbed it across my abs, up through the soft hair on my chest then over to my nipple. He pulled back, a look of delightful surprise on his face when he found the cold metal barbell through my right nipple.
“And then,” I continued, “I’d worship you. Give you everything you could ever want.” Though I meant that sexually, my heart beat a little faster at the thought of spoiling this man in every way possible.
“Yes, that, I want that,” Branson said, his finger still toying with the jewellery and his hips slowly rocking back and forward, meeting the movements of my hand.
“Anything you want, gorgeous, but right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”
Branson nodded and I took his cheeks in my hands, pulling him towards me, brushing my lips over his.
“Bran?” A voice sounded from behind us, and Branson bolted upright, shooting off my lap and landing next to me. He jumped up, straightening his very obvious erection as he turned to face the attractive man standing on the other side of the roped off area.
“Milo! You made it!”
Milo? Who the fuck was Milo?