Chapter 13 #2
Was he tormenting Foster? So close, yet so far away… he shook with the need to snatch Jude and drag him into bed.
Jude bent and used Foster’s t-shirt to wipe his fingers clean before tossing it back to the floor.
Finally Jude closed the gap and climbed on top of him.
He positioned himself, pushing Foster’s hand away so he could stroke the shaft again.
The head of Foster’s cock soon rested against Jude’s opening.
Foster’s hips strained to move, impatient.
“Ready?” Jude asked, his voice raspy and rough.
“Please,” Foster pleaded, needing to be inside him again.
“Are you a needy boy?”
Foster sucked in a breath. “Yes…”
Jude was unhurried, and it drove Foster mad.
He sank down on Foster’s shaft so slowly that it could only be classified as torture.
Once a couple of inches were in, Jude rose and pulled almost all the way off before sliding back down and taking more on the next plunge.
It felt like hours before Jude finally had him to the hilt.
Jude trembled above him. “God, you just hit that second hole just right.”
“Second hole?”
“You really are a babe in the rainbow woods, aren’t you?” Jude asked him, scowling. He lifted off Foster and came back down. “Google’s your friend. Look it up after I’m gone.”
“Yes, sir,” Foster replied.
Jude’s gaze flicked to his. “I’m going to be stuck teaching you how to be a proper top, aren’t I?”
Foster cringed. Was he that bad at fucking? “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
Jude searched his face. “You will, won’t you?”
Foster nodded, earnest. He wanted Jude pleased.
They held one another’s gaze as Jude rolled his hips slowly.
Slow swiftly accelerated towards rapid. Foster held on to Jude’s hips as he rode him hard and fast, their bodies slamming together.
The sound of skin slapping, their moans, and his cock driving into Jude’s body filled the small apartment, the chorus sending Foster higher.
Foster looked up at Jude and watched what appeared to be pleasure rolling over his face. Jude’s eyes closed tight, his mouth open on a long moan. The moans that came after that punctuated nearly every thrust. His eyes flipped open, and Jude surveyed him from his lofty spot.
His head moved as his gaze appeared to trail over Foster’s arms and back to his chest. Down, his head rolled as he ran both palms over Foster’s abs. His hand was a blur as he stroked himself, double time measured against the thrusts down Foster’s cock.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Jude muttered.
Jude’s back bowed, and a roar came from his lips. Head falling back, he came again, shooting a hot load over Foster’s chest. Two thrusts later and Foster came, growling as he filled the condom, his fingertips dug into Jude’s hips.
Their bodies slowed until Jude collapsed on top of him.
Foster gripped the base of the condom and slowly rolled them both over, laying Jude beside him.
He withdrew and lay back, staring up at the whirling ceiling fan.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he dragged air into his burning lungs and settled into the lovely haze of the afterglow.
His lids grew heavy as his breathing returned to normal.
A smile came to his lips. Jude had called him hot.
At least there was mutual attraction.
Before he drifted off, he forced himself out of bed and discarded the condom in the bathroom.
He wet a clean washcloth to wipe his cock and chest down.
He rinsed it and returned to the bed. Without a word, he wiped Jude’s cock and balls before rolling him to the side to clean up the leftover lube left behind.
Jude’s eyes narrowed but seemed less in anger and more in what appeared to be fatigue. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Foster said before tossing the washcloth on top of his dirty t-shirt. He lay back beside Jude and met the guy’s gaze. “I didn’t hear many instructions. Should I assume I did okay this round?”
Jude didn’t answer him.
“You seemed like you liked it,” Foster said, pushing his luck.
Jude sighed. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Sorry.”
Jude scoffed but said nothing else.
“It was good for me,” Foster whispered.
Jude snorted with laughter, shaking his head.
Foster grew nervous. Had he failed to perform? “It wasn’t for you?”
“It was fine,” Jude muttered, his lids closing.
Fine. Foster suddenly hated that word.
He stared at Jude’s face, softening with sleep. He said no sleepovers. Should I wake him? Or leave him? Either way felt like stepping on a potential landmine. He’d already been called annoying. “You can stay here if you want.”
“No sleepovers,” Jude mumbled, never opening his eyes. “I’m just resting my eyes for a minute.”
Jude trembled, a soft moan escaping his lips. Soon after that, his breathing slowed, and it was clear he was out. A few minutes later, a faint snore sounded, confirming it.
No sleepovers, hmm?
Foster smiled to himself. He pulled up the sheets and laid them and a light blanket over Jude before snuggling in beside him. The futon was barely big enough for him. Two big guys were too much. Foster didn’t care. He didn’t want Jude to leave.
Not after blowing his mind yet again and leaving him weak.
He couldn’t stop smiling to himself, quite pleased with the turn of events.
Hopefully he’d be paying off his debt for a long, long time.
A loud crashing noise woke Jude. He blinked a few times before realizing it was sanitation workers rattling trash cans outside. As his eyes began to work, nothing looked familiar. Why wasn’t he at home? Pale light streamed in through the windows.
Glancing around, there was a man beside him, backed turned. Then it all came back to him, and he remembered where he was.
Foster’s place…
Fuck!
Reaching for his phone, he saw he had fifteen minutes to make it to work. He jumped out of bed and did a mad dash to find all of his clothing.
“Whazz wrong?” Foster asked sleepily.
“I’m late for work,” Jude spat as he pulled his shirt on, ignoring how cute a half-asleep Foster was with his hair tousled and half open eyes. “And I don’t have a car.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“I don’t need a car,” Jude said.
“You have a business,” Foster argued.
“I have a refrigerated work truck for deliveries, but I don’t make a habit of driving it around town or parking it outside some random guy’s house, advertising where I spend my evenings.”
Foster peeled back the covers. “I can drive you home.”
“Fuck no. I’m not going to be seen with you,” Jude snapped as he pulled on his running shoes.
Why did the hurt expression that crossed Foster’s face bother him so much? This is transactional. No emotions. No attachments. His hurt feelings don’t matter.
“Falling asleep was a mistake. It won’t happen again,” Jude said before walking out.
Standing at the top of the stairs, he scanned the area to see if there was anyone around.
The coast looked clear. He raced down the steps.
As soon as his feet hit the driveway, he noticed Foster’s mom inside the kitchen, puttering around.
It didn’t look like she’d noticed him, so he walked as quickly as he could to escape being caught.
It was still early enough that few people were out and about. Only a couple of cars passed him as he made his way to the opposite end of Foster’s street. As he turned a corner, he saw a jogger ahead and decided that might be good cover—and get him there faster.
The heat was already unbearable. Sweat quickly coated his body as he jogged toward the shop. Once he neared, he found his whole team standing outside, waiting to get inside.
He tossed his keys to Paulie when he was close enough. He stopped, putting his hands on his knees and caught his breath. Man, I’m out of shape. “Sorry, guys. I tried going for a jog this morning and apparently went too far. I didn’t give myself enough time to get back.”
They all looked him over, smug smiles on their faces. Clearly they didn’t believe him.
“Do you usually run in jeans?” one of his cutters asked him.
“Hey, look, we’ve all done the walk of shame,” Paulie said while unlocked the security gate. “Stop harassing him.”
Red-faced, Jude ignored Paulie as his employees chuckled. “I’m going to go grab a shower and I’ll be down in a few.”
Paulie tossed the keys after everything was opened. “Take your time. We gotcha, Boss.”
Jude eyed Paulie, who had too much twinkle in his eyes. Shame nearly made him lash out, but no way was he doing that. Jude trusted few people, but Paulie was on that very short list. He’d relied heavily on his right-hand man, especially when his father had been sick.
Paulie had been his dad’s final hire, the youngest on the butchers’ crew when Jude had started full-time after quitting high school. After Jude had taken the reins, all of his dad’s crew had slowly retired. All but one.
After the staff went inside, Paulie remained outside, the expression on his face odd.
“It wasn’t what you think it was,” Jude said.
“Yeah, it was,” Paulie said. “And I’m glad to see it. I’m tired of you living your life like a monk.”
Jude scoffed. A monk? Hardly. Paulie knew he was gay, but that’s about all he knew. Jude did his damnedest not to cross professional and personal. He usually succeeded.
“I can’t remember the last time you had a date. It’s good that you’re getting yourself out there,” Paulie said.
A date.
Foster Price hadn’t been a date.
But why did the idea of it becoming that sound so enticing?
“Maybe it’s time you give me a little more responsibility,” Paulie said.
“What more can I give you?”
“Keys to the door, for one,” Paulie replied. “So I can open up if you’re running late. That way, no one has to see your walks of shame.”
“It wasn’t that,” Jude repeated.
“Sure, sure,” Paulie said. “Then… you can go out for morning jogs and let me open up for you. You work twelve, thirteen hours a day, six days a week, Jude. I’m amazed you haven’t burnt yourself out already. If I had the keys, you could come in later. You could take another day off a week, too.”
“I’ll take it under consideration,” Jude said.
“Consideration?” Paulie frowned. “Yeah, sure. Okay.”
Jude watched him walk away, disappointed, knowing he likely should’ve agreed. He could hear Anton in his head.
Control freak.