Chapter 32
TYLER
The market smells like roasted coffee, fresh bread, and sugar overload.
There’s the faint, creamy aroma of cheeses, and the occasional spice that makes me wrinkle my nose.
People weave between the stalls, trying not to bump into each other and mostly failing.
I keep Jamie close, so he doesn’t get squashed by the herd.
And also because I want him glued to my side.
His hand is in mine, slightly clammy. We haven’t been holding them for long enough to get sweaty, so that can only mean one thing.
He’s nervous.
Gosh, just look at him. We’ve indulged in every depraved thing under the sun, but going on a date gets him all jittery and shy. How fucking adorable.
I wanna eat him up. But that will have to wait. First, I need to make sure his first ever date is completely unforgettable.
We stop in front of a pastry stall that’s not too busy.
“Oh, those look good.” He points to a tray of samples with a label that says vegan. “I wonder what that one is.” He acts calm and casual, but I notice the faint lift in his voice.
I let go of his hand to slot myself behind him, chest to back. I take him by the hips and lean slightly over him under the pretense of perusing the display.
“Almond? Maybe pear?”
A small shiver rocks through him, and I notice the back of his neck changing color. I smile when I feel him press back into me. He always does, seeking closeness with me as if his body has been programmed to do so.
He cranes his neck to blink those pretty blue eyes at me, cheeks slightly flushed. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips. “Want to try?”
Yes, I do. I reach around him and pick one random piece. I bite off a half and let out an appreciative hum without even tasting it properly.
Jamie’s eyes widen slightly, then a lot when I hold the other half out to him.
“Open up, little bunny,” I instruct, only for his ears. I know what the endearment does to him. And I’m proven right once more.
A small sound escapes from his lips before he parts them for me. Slowly, I slide the pastry into his mouth, my pulse skyrocketing when his tongue grazes my fingers. Even as I withdraw them, I can’t help but imagine replacing them with something bigger.
God, Tyler, you are such a perv. This is a date! It would be easier to remind myself of that if Jamie stopped looking at me like he’s thinking the exact same thoughts.
He takes his time chewing, his cheeks flushed. I watch his throat bob with a little more interest than is healthy and run my thumb over his lower lip where a stray crumb decided to cling on. I don’t blame it, I would too.
“Very sweet,” Jamie comments.
“That you are,” I agree. “I could eat you.”
“You did,” he mumbles. “Yesterday.”
That I did. He was parading around the apartment in nothing but my shirt which barely reached the low curve of his ass, and with a pillow crease in his cheek.
He looked so soft and cute and effortlessly sexy.
How was I supposed to stop myself from bending him over the couch and devouring his hole until he came just from my tongue? Twice.
“Ah yeah, that’s right.” I circle my arms around his waist and press my hips against his ass. Well, sorta. The height difference makes the alignment a bit off, but that doesn’t diminish the effect. “But I think I’m getting hungry again.”
With a high-pitched squeak, he wiggles out of my hold. “We should find you something to eat. L-look, lángos! Ever had that? No? It’s Hungarian. You’ve got to try it.”
I let myself be dragged wherever he wants me, laughing under my breath. He can be so deliciously filthy and needy behind closed doors, but some lowkey PDA and flirting will make him turn magenta red.
We order one whatever-the-heck-it’s-called weird flatbread to share.
We eat while walking which unfortunately means our hands and mouths are occupied.
I assume that was Jamie’s plan, so he could get a break from my relentless flirting and touching.
That’s alright, I’ll make sure to double up on it later to make up for it.
Plus, I get a strange sense of satisfaction from watching his cheeks bulge like a chipmunk’s as he devours the food.
I’d never peg him for such a foodie based on his slender stature, but damn, do I like watching him enjoy himself. Even with ketchup all over his mouth.
And because I’m not actually an animal, I reach out to wipe the red spot away with my thumb instead of leaning in and licking it off.
See? I can behave. I still lick the ketchup off my thumb, though.
Can’t waste food, after all. Can’t miss out on Jamie’s flustered expression either. That would be a crime.
Jamie really comes alive after getting some food in his stomach.
We don’t get to hold hands again, because he jumps from stall to stall, fawning over a variety of desserts, candles and even lotions.
I dutifully trail after him, smiling and nodding whenever he excitedly starts showing me something.
It’s not that I’m not listening, I just have more interest in watching his face transform with excitement and curiosity than I have in learning about the healing properties of honey.
That is, until he reaches for a hand cream sample with honey extract and applies a small dollop to the top of his hand.
“Wow. That’s so moisturizing.”
“It’s very good for dry skin and even eczema, but suits all types!” the vendor says, eager to promote her product.
Jamie hums, bringing his hand to his nose.
“Smells really nice, too. Subtle but relaxing.” His lips purse in thought as he fiddles with the sample container.
“I should probably get some. Once I start doing massages, I’ll need to wash my hands twenty times a day.
” He turns to me, holding up the sample. “What do you think?”
I think he could get any cream from the drugstore that would do the job just fine, but I respect supporting small businesses. I also respect Jamie getting things for himself that are unnecessary but make him happy.
I lean down for an obligatory sniff-test, and my brain glitches. Catching him by the wrist, I forgo the sample and start smelling his hand instead, ignoring his surprised yelp.
Holy damn. This is literally Jamie’s scent amplified by a hundred.
“This is freaking incredible,” I say—more like growl. “What kind of honey smells like this?”
“It’s Manuka honey!” the vendor so helpfully supplies. “Premium, most pure honey all the way from New Zealand. And a dash of vanilla bean. There’s also oatmeal extract. Very good for sensitive skin!”
Honey. Vanilla. Oatmeal. Jamie’s scent bottled up.
Fuck, I need it.
I don’t know what kind of feral expression I’m making, but it gets Jamie all squirmy and flushed, until I’m forced to let him go. Instead, I turn towards the vendor with the seriousness of a businessman ready to sell his soul for the deal.
“We’ll take it.” I scan the displayed products on the table and frown at the small packaging of the hand cream. “Do you have something bigger?”
She perks up, reaching for the largest bottle with a pump. “We have an all-purpose body lotion. Same formula, just thinner consistency.”
“Does it smell the same?”
“Yes!”
“Prefect.”
“Tyler.” Jamie tugs on my shirt, wide eyes blinking up at me. “That’s too expensive. I just need the hand cream.”
The vendor jumps in. “If you buy two of these, I’ll throw in the hand cream for free.”
“There’s no ne—”
“Done.” I hold up my phone. “You take contactless?”
She’s already presenting me with a Square reader. “Whenever you’re ready!”
I manage to pay despite Jamie’s heartfelt attempts at stopping me. It’s like trying to fight off an actual rabbit. As in, you can’t help but smile, maybe try to pet it while you’re at it. Or in my case—kiss it.
So I do. I kiss his cheek after I hand him the bag with the products and pause to whisper into his ear.
“You put this on only when you want me to completely ruin you.” I swear I can hear his rapid heart beat, it’s so loud. It gets louder when I brush my lips over the shell of his ear. “Understood?”
His shaky exhale caresses my neck, and that combined with the lingering scent of the lotion makes me want to throw him over my shoulder and take him home ASAP.
“What was that?” He mumbled something so quietly, I couldn’t understand even from this close.
“I said,” he repeats, “we’ll probably run out quickly.”
“Fuck.” He really knows how to push my buttons. Granted, I have many buttons, but damn, he gets them all. “I’ll need this back.” I take the bag from him and strategically position it in front of my crotch. “At this rate, you’ll ruin me first.”
Gaze downcast, he bites his lower lip. Fuck me, I wanna bite it for him. Bite him all over.
“Shit.” A slightly hysterical laugh is torn out of me. “Okay, fuck. I’m sorry. I know it’s our first date, but I’m seriously pushing my limits.”
“Huh?”
“One more stop before I’m dragging you home. Choose wisely.”
Jamie looks like he’s not sure if I’m joking or not. He must conclude I’m serious—seriously horny—and starts to look around in a hurry.
“Um…how about ice cream?” He points in the direction of the stall. “Might help cool us down.”
I grin at the ‘us’ part. It makes me feel better about my unhinged hindbrain.
“Good idea.”
The line is long, which doesn’t go well with my patience—or the lack thereof.
But Jamie is studying the flavors menu with such concentration, I can’t bring myself to ask him to try a different stall.
I really need to stop staring at him, though.
It doesn’t help my situation. Neither does my bladder, which is currently screaming at me.
“Hey.” I touch his elbow. “I need to pop to the bathroom. If it’s your turn before I get back, just wait for me here, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. What flavor do you want?”
“Pick for me.”
I follow the signs to the nearest toilets, which have seen better days. I take longer than I would like. Pissing with an erection does not get easier with age, nor with practice. I also stay back trying to reason with my dick.