Chapter 8 Cody
I arrive at the cake shop too early that evening, at ten to nine. It took all my willpower not to come here hours ago; I’ve never experienced time moving so slowly. It’s maddening how much I want him, and knowing that the feeling is mutual only made the wait more unbearable.
At least I’m here now, but I’m disappointed to find we’re not alone yet. Luc is in the process of helping a customer—an older woman who seems to be in no rush, just my luck.
When Luc sees me, he gives me a pained look, telling me without words that he doesn’t like this either.
I stand off to the side, hoping the customer will leave quickly if I stay out of their way.
But soon enough, it’s starting to look pointless.
The customer’s chatty, and even though I can’t quite understand what she’s saying in French, she seems to be in the mood for small talk.
I can tell Luc’s conflicted. On the one hand, he wants her out the door, but on the other, he doesn’t want to cost his father a customer by being rude. Maybe I should intervene after all.
I stand behind the woman and listen. When I hear her talking about the weekend, “fin de semaine,” and her husband, “époux,” I grow confident that she’s not talking about cakes anymore and decide to hurry things along.
I clear my throat, causing the woman to turn around and look at me. Luc stares at me, his gaze hopeful. “I’m here to pick up my order,” I say, using the first excuse that comes to mind.
“Yes, your order,” Luc immediately replies, playing along with me.
He then says something to the woman, and I can only imagine he’s apologizing and saying something about having to help me.
The lady doesn’t look happy about it, but she mumbles something that sounds like agreement and starts to walk away.
“I’ll get it for you,” Luc says.
And I reply, “Please do. I’m in quite a hurry.” Anything to make it believable.
Only when the shop door closes, and we’re finally alone, do we drop the act and chuckle simultaneously.
“Thanks for that,” Luc says. “She comes in here every week. Sometimes she buys something, sometimes not. She knows my dad, and often enough, she just wants to chat. But this is the first time I’ve had someone to save me.”
“It was my pleasure. Honestly, I did it as much for myself as for you.”
“Right,” he says, his smile turning mischievous. “And why is that?”
“Because I need you alone. You know that.”
His smile confirms it, and what he does next is proof that he’s waited for this moment too.
Without another word, he steps away from the counter, heads to the door, and turns the sign to show the shop is closed.
He then walks toward me and drags me into the back room.
It’s amazing; even before the echo of the closing door has faded, he’s already rewarding me with a hungry kiss.
And immediately, it almost feels like no time has passed since this morning.
I wrap my arms around him, letting myself get lost in it.
His hunger shows, and I respond to it with my own.
It feels like he’s asking me a silent question to give him more, and I want to so badly.
With his hands all over me, it doesn’t take long before I feel like I’ll burst again, just like earlier today.
My cock’s already stiffening just from his lips on mine and from his touch.
Panting, I break away from the kiss. It’s now or never.
“Maybe, after you finish up here, you want to go home with me? I live nearby; we could take this further?”
Given the heat between us, I don’t think the question surprises him.
For a moment, I could swear that lust fills his eyes and he starts to smile.
Hope grows within me, but then, for reasons unknown, his entire demeanor suddenly changes.
His expression turns cold, and he moves away from me. I miss his touch the moment I lose it.
“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head.
My heart sinks at record speed. “You can’t?”
“Non. C’est . . . compliqué.”
“Why? What’s complicated? You seemed like you wanted to just seconds ago.”
“I can’t explain it.”
Despite my efforts to keep it neutral, frustration echoes in my voice. “Please try, Luc. Help me understand.”
“I . . .” He falls silent. “I have self-esteem issues. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
Self-esteem issues? What’s he talking about?
That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
Every time I’m with him, he seems confident to the point of being cocky.
From what I’ve seen, he’s never been afraid to be himself around me, never bothered to swallow any words. No, this is impossible to believe.
“You? Self-esteem issues? Luc, from the moment I met you, you’ve walked around here like you own the place. You’ve bossed me around like I was your employee—or less.”
And it was fucking hot, I think to myself.
He shakes his head. “This is different. I can’t sleep with you because . . .” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I have no idea what’s going on. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll absolutely listen to anyone telling me no, or when someone tells me to stop, but I don’t understand this at all.
Just moments ago, he dragged me into this room, kissing me and grinding up against me like he was ready to do it right here, in the back of the shop after his shift.
Where did I go wrong? Why does he suddenly no longer want me?
And what self-esteem issues is he talking about?
“But Luc, I thought we were doing well. I thought you were comfortable around me, I—”
“I am.”
“Then why can’t you just tell me?”
“Because I’m afraid you’ll laugh.”
I can’t help but scoff. “If you think I’d ever laugh at you, Luc, I must have done a poor job of letting you get to know me.” Doubt crosses his face, so I decide to continue, stepping closer to him. “Do you really think I’d laugh at you?”
He raises his chin, his expression darkening. “It’s happened to me before. In the past.”
“But not by me.”
“No, not by you.”
“Then why don’t you try me? Or, if you feel like you can’t, how about I tell you something embarrassing about me first, and then you tell me?”
His eyes widen, telling me his interest is piqued. “Would you?”
“If you think that would help.”
“Yes. Please do.”
“Okay, let me think . . . Oh, here’s something: I was a late bloomer. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was eighteen, and I didn’t sleep with anyone until I was twenty-two. How’s that?”
A strangled breath escapes him, and I can’t tell if it’s a good sign or not. But then he asks, “Were you in love with that person you slept with?”
“Yes, I was. I mean, it still ended pretty quickly, but yes, I was in love.”
“And you didn’t regret it?”
“No, not once.”
He nods and blinks a few times. After staring at me for several seconds, his expression tense, he says, “Okay. I’ll tell you.” Based on those words, I gather I must have done something right. “About my self-esteem issues.”
“Please tell me. I want to know. I won’t laugh, I promise.”
He takes a deep breath, presumably for courage. “Il est . . . petit.”
I blink slowly, trying to process the revelation. I know what petit means, but I don’t immediately understand what he’s saying. “Small?” I frown at him, weighing his words before the meaning hits me. My eyes widen. “Wait, you mean, small down below?”
“Oui.”
“How small?”
“Eight centimeters.”
That’s small, right? It definitely sounds small.
God, this keeps getting better and better .
. . How can it be that my dream guy is right here, working at this cake shop?
I have the urge to smile, to laugh almost, but I know he’d take it the wrong way, so I press down the urge.
First, he needs my support. Then, maybe, I can let some of my excitement out.
“I don’t know how small that is exactly, but it’s no problem for me. Because you see, I was hoping I could get you off with mine anyway.”
He cringes at my words for some reason, and panic surges through me. Did I mess this up?
“Mais il y a un autre problème.”
“What other problem?”
“I’m a virgin,” he says softly. “Just like you at twenty-one.”
Almost immediately, my mouth falls open from shock. I feel like he just lifted his hand and smacked me over the head with it. Given the level of surprise I feel, he might as well have. “A virgin?! Seriously?” I look him up and down. “You really don’t have that energy.”
He shrugs, not looking like his usual smug self at all. “I suppose I hide it well. But I have . . . How to say? Uncertainty because of my penis.”
I barely manage to suppress a chuckle at the statement. One thing I know about the French is that they’re usually not prudes. It shows on him. He’s uncertain, but no longer afraid to tell me exactly why that is, casually talking about his genitals.
Still, what a surprise. Luc’s a virgin .
. . I can’t help feeling slightly disappointed, though, because it means he probably won’t be the dominant bottom I’d hoped he’d be.
But let’s get something straight: I love a bottom with a big mouth and a small cock, and I adore the one standing before me.
No, it’s not a deal-breaker. I still want Luc.
I can’t wait to breach him and unleash my saved-up load in between his tight white ass cheeks .
. . if he’ll let me. The thought immediately makes my cock turn hard as steel.
“You don’t have to be uncertain about your size, at least not with me. Because it just so happens, I have a kink for that.”
“A kink?”
“It means I prefer to have sex with men with small genitals. It turns me on. And as I said, I plan to make you come with mine—which isn’t small, I should say. But I’ll be gentle.”
He blinks a few times, then his lips hint at a smile. It tells me I’m on the right track. “It turns you on?”
“Like nothing else.”
His smile widens, the tension visibly falling from him. “So, you’ll take me home with you and we fuck?”