Chapter Eleven
“No, colibrí, you’re murdering the onions," Cesar said, his strong hands covering Jamie’s to slow down the chopping.
“Gentle. Like this, cari?o.”
Jamie tried to focus on the knife technique, really he did, but how was he supposed to concentrate with Cesar’s chest pressed against his back?
“I’m being gentle!”
he protested, even though he’d been hacking at the poor vegetable like it had wronged him in some way.
“It’s already dead, right? How much gentler does it need?”
Cesar’s lips curved upward, and suddenly the room felt too small to contain that much beauty.
“You want even slices so they cook evenly. Here.”
His hands guided Jamie’s in smooth, controlled movements.
“Feel the rhythm?”
Oh, Jamie felt a rhythm all right, and it had nothing to do with onions.
For the past week Cesar had pulled him into the tavern kitchen to teach him how to cook.
Yesterday it had been something as simple as frying chicken wings.
Only Jamie had nearly burned down the kitchen.
He’d found some frozen corndogs in the freezer and decided to drop a few into the deep fryer he’d been using for the chicken.
Who knew hot oil could throw such a tantrum? Thankfully, Cesar was faster than he looked with all those inked muscles, and… What was he just thinking about?
“What are we making again?”
Jamie asked, trying to remember why they were in the kitchen on a rainy day when they could be doing... other things.
“Because I feel like we covered this but my brain got distracted by your…everything. And now I can’t remember if you mentioned ethnicity, and I don’t want to be culturally insensitive, but also, your hands are really warm. Did you know onions make you cry because of sulfur compounds? Random fact I learned, but—”
“Sofrito.”
Cesar gave him a quick kiss. His cupcake’s way of shutting Jamie up without hurting his feelings. He wanted his mate’s kisses all the time, to the point he sometimes word-vomited on purpose.
“The base for everything good in Puerto Rican cooking.”
Cesar’s breath tickled his ear, those muscly arms trapping Jamie in a cocoon of temptation.
“Onions, peppers, garlic, cilantro. My abuela would come back to haunt me if I didn’t teach my mate.”
Jamie’s stomach did that butterfly thing. Cesar’s mate. He still couldn’t believe this gorgeous wolf had chosen him. It hardly seemed real. Just a week ago, Jamie had been at his register, praying a hole opened up and swallowed him. Now he was in his crush’s embrace, learning how to properly chop veggies. If this was a dream, he would use his utility knife on anyone who tried to wake him.
“Your grandma taught you?”
Jamie forced himself to pay attention to the lesson, not his honey bunny’s body.
“Sí. Said a man who can’t cook can’t take care of his family.”
His thumb brushed over Jamie’s knuckles.
“Now, smaller pieces.”
“Bossy beefcake.”
But Jamie was grinning, chopping the onions into tiny, perfect pieces while Cesar nodded his approval. He couldn’t believe he was actually preparing a meal that didn’t have microwave instructions.
“Is this small enough? Or smaller? I can go smaller. I can dice them into submission. Is that a thing? Dicing vegetables into submission? Because I feel like—”
“Good. Now the peppers.”
Cesar reached around him to grab a red bell pepper.
“Same technique, but—”
“But first you gotta get handsy and correct my form.”
Cesar’s closeness rewrote gravity, every breath pulling Jamie in deeper.
“Pretty sure I need lots of correction, jellybean. Might take all night. Possibly multiple nights. Maybe a whole semester of vegetable-chopping lessons because I’m a very slow learner when you’re pressed against me like that and—”
His growl made Jamie’s toes curl.
“Behave, or we’ll never eat.”
“Who said I was hungry for food?”
His breathing grew shallow as he stared at his dreamboat’s soft lips. Cesar’s gaze lingered like a touch Jamie could feel hours later. Ever since his crush had finally noticed him, it had been this way.
“Jamie.”
Cesar’s voice dropped to that tone that made his brain short-circuit. “Focus.”
“Right. Focusing. Totally focused.”
He bit his lip, trying to match Cesar’s rhythm.
“It was really sweet of your grandma to teach you. My granny didn’t teach me anything because she moved far away so she wouldn’t have to deal with my family and all the bad seeds—sorry, not talking about that. New life, new me, new knife skills that I’m totally nailing by the way.”
His pookie pressed a kiss behind Jamie’s ear.
“You’re a natural, mi amor.”
“I just had a great teacher, elegido.”
Jamie had started calling him that a few days ago, and it had lit something behind his tropical-blue eyes that hadn’t cooled since.
With a sultry growl, Cesar spun him around and kissed him thoroughly, effectively shutting down the word tornado.
When they broke apart, Jamie blinked up at him, feeling a bit loopy.
“So... we’re done with cooking?”
“For now.”
Cesar’s eyes had an amber glow, which meant Jamie was about to be carried off somewhere private.
And he was right.
His mate turned the burners off, his eyes a deep amber glow as he pulled Jamie out of the kitchen and to one of the tavern bedrooms.
They’d blown him away the first time he’d stepped into one.
When Jamie thought of tavern bedrooms, rickety furniture and sparsely furnished came to mind.
Not these rooms.
His mate told Jamie the first time they’d used one that the bartender… er, alpha, like his comforts.
None of the rooms belonged to any one person, even though Sin & Steel was really the pack den.
Every thought fled when Cesar kicked the door closed behind them, his hands all possessive confidence and barely checked hunger. Jamie’s heart knocked around his ribs, a weird mix of excitement and trust making him loose-limbed as he let Cesar back him up until his knees hit the edge of the bed.
Then his back met the cool sheets, legs hanging off the mattress. His shirt vanished somewhere behind Cesar’s head, the damp hem catching on his nose before Jamie started laughing.
“You always get me naked in record time, you know that?”
His voice came out too high, but he didn’t care. He always said the wrong thing when he was nervous, so why not now, when it mattered most?
Jamie’s heart pounded way faster than it should have. He’d never get used to being wanted like this, not even if it happened every day. He reached for Cesar’s waistband, finding skin instead, tracing along his lower stomach, following the light trail of hair until his knuckles bumped into the hard length tenting his sweats.
The way his mate looked at him now—eyes all molten blue with that amber glow—made Jamie’s stomach swoop, like the first drop on a roller coaster. It was only the two of them now—no pack, no brother, no ghosts.
Cesar took his hand, pressing it flat against his cock, letting Jamie measure every inch before sliding the pants down his hips. He watched, transfixed. Cesar was so perfect, so full of tension, all controlled heat and hunger.
His own jeans and underwear were gone before he really registered how.
Their mouths pressed together, rough and soft at the same time, tongues seeking and coaxing. Jamie opened up, letting him in. It all felt normal now, this easy push and pull, Cesar’s body finding his like they’d rehearsed it for years.
“Tan listo para mí,”
Cesar muttered, mouth moving down the line of Jamie’s throat, tongue flicking over his racing pulse. Jamie arched, knees falling open as if his body knew the script by heart.
He was pretty sure the world narrowed to Cesar’s mouth on his skin and the scratch of stubble under his jaw, strong hands parting his thighs.
Cesar didn’t say anything, just pressed his mouth to Jamie’s cock, tongue swirling in a way that made Jamie’s entire body buzz. He knew what Cesar was doing—he’d learned his tells by now—the way one long, slow lick up the length always meant he was plotting something and the way Cesar’s hand cupped Jamie’s balls, thumb rolling, meant he was about to up the ante.
God. Jamie fought to keep some grip on his thoughts, but it was useless. He let go, hips rocking weakly against Cesar’s mouth, pulse thumping in his ears. He could’ve stayed there for hours, but Cesar pulled off with a last kiss to Jamie’s tip, making him whine, half-protest, half-please-don’t-stop.
“Turn around for me, colibrí,”
Cesar coaxed, voice low and ragged.
Jamie did, heart pounding, pressing his chest and cheek to the mattress, ass tipped up in the air, feeling no shame. He wanted this. No, he craved it. He craved the way Cesar’s hands settled on his hips, thumbs pressing small, steadying circles into his skin.
A jolt of anticipation shot through him as Cesar’s cock nudged at his entrance, the familiar slickness of shifter precum already easing the way. Jamie breathed deep, relaxed, and let his mind focus on the details—the warmth of Cesar’s body braced behind him, the low string of Spanish that vibrated against his skin, the way his own hands curled around the sheets to anchor him.
The first push was heady, broad tip breaching him, Cesar’s precum relaxing muscle and making his body open up. Jamie sucked in a breath, not in discomfort but in surprise at how... right it felt. The pressure was firm, not painful, and when a second and third spurt slicked him further, the tension eased.
“Yes,”
Jamie whispered, pushing back, greedy for more.
He felt Cesar steady himself, both hands anchoring Jamie’s hips as he pressed in, slow and controlled until Jamie was full, so full he almost forgot how to breathe. Every nerve ending snapped awake, from the base of his spine to the soles of his feet. Heat rolled through him, sweat breaking out across his shoulders as Cesar bottomed out, their bodies now flush together.
“Perfecto,”
Cesar gritted out, voice shaking a little. One hand slid up Jamie’s back, spanning his side like a living claim.
Jamie rocked back, impatience taking over.
“Move, jellybean,”
he mumbled into the blankets, voice shaky and hungry.
“So beautiful when you give in like that.”
The rhythm got rougher, sharper, every thrust hitting that spot that made Jamie’s vision blur at the edges.
Every roll of hips hit something inside Jamie that made him want to beg, curse, promise anything if only this never stopped. Noise spilled out of him, little bits of nonsense—Cesar’s name, random grocery facts, half-Spanish, all of it tumbling until it just dissolved into desperate, wordless sounds. He held on as the bed creaked and Cesar’s rhythm built.
Sweat pooled at the small of his back. Cesar leaned forward, chest pressed tight against Jamie’s spine, mouth at his ear.
“Tan bueno, mi vida. Querido, eres tan perfecto para mí.”
He punctuated each phrase with a thrust, his cock dragging against that spot that made Jamie’s vision flicker.
Jamie gripped the sheets harder, breath hitching as Cesar’s hand snaked underneath, fingers curling around his cock. Every stroke pulled him closer, pleasure ratcheting up so fast Jamie could barely keep up. He couldn’t tell if he was trembling from the friction, the heat, or the way Cesar’s voice kept breaking through with promises, none of them cheesy, all of them true.
“Don’t stop,”
Jamie gasped, feeling everything tighten, his body tensing up like an overstrung guitar. He was close, so close, and every muscle in his body seemed to coil tight.
Cesar’s teeth grazed Jamie’s shoulder, hovering, threatening. Jamie’s whole world narrowed to that bite, the promise of it, the way Cesar’s cock kept hitting that spot inside him with relentless, punishing precision.
It only took a few more strokes—Cesar’s hand on his cock, body flush behind him, hips slamming home—and Jamie’s orgasm hit hard and wild, vision going white. He barely registered Cesar’s voice, a low commanding call in Spanish, before teeth sank into his shoulder, pain and pleasure hitting him at the same time.
He cried out Cesar’s name, body jerking, pleasure riding him longer than he thought possible as Cesar came inside him with a growl that sounded both human and wolf.
For a long moment they stayed like that, Cesar pressed over him, both panting, sweat cooling on skin. Jamie felt raw and alive and anchored, more himself than he’d ever been. He reached back blindly, feeling Cesar’s fingers close over his, squeezing once, twice, just enough to promise he wasn’t letting go.
Eventually, Jamie let out a laugh, muffled and shaky, into the sheets.
“You killed my ability to think.”
Cesar pressed a kiss to his shoulder, tongue soothing over the mark.
“Te amo, colibrí.”
Jamie let himself believe it—let himself belong—in this new, solid place he’d found with Cesar. And as Cesar pulled him close, gentle again, Jamie thought maybe forever didn’t seem so impossible after all.
THE END