19. Corbin
CORBIN
I couldn’t believe I’d almost said, “Even if you fell for someone.” Beau and I’d had really good sex.
We’d shared some shit with each other that we didn’t usually share, but that didn’t mean we were in a relationship, and it sure as hell didn’t mean he was in love with me, even if I loved him. I was starting to think I probably did.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Reluctantly, I did as he asked. “Friendship, loyalty, family, that’s not the same thing as owing somebody. That’s choosing someone.”
My heart fluttered. I licked his lips and somehow found the courage to say, “I want this to be real. I want to be good for you. I want to show you I can discipline myself.”
“I know you can. And I… I’m honored you chose me to help you with that.”
His words sent warmth washing through me, but I also felt panicked. He was saying all the right things, and I wanted to believe he felt as strongly about me as I did about him, but why would he? I was a challenge for him, a project, like a car that needed to be put back together.
“What’s wrong?” Beau rubbed at the line I knew had formed between my brows.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re lying. I’ve warned you about that, but you’ve been through a lot tonight. I expect you to tell me eventually, but right now, you need to sleep.”
He removed the plate from the bed and brushed away the crumbs before sliding back under the covers and pulling me into his arms.
I woke in the morning to see him putting his coveralls back on.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Later than it should be.”
I groaned as I pushed the covers off and winced when I sat up. Beau had been right about how I would still feel the spanking today. He walked over to the bed, and I opened my legs so he could move between them.
When he bent and kissed me, I thought it would just be a soft greeting. Instead, he pushed his tongue into my mouth, tangled it with mine, and kissed me like he wanted to eat me up. By the time he pulled away, my morning wood was throbbing with need for him to fulfill his promise.
“You stay here today,” he said. It took me a few moments to make sense of the words.
“No. I agreed to work for the week, and—” His pointed look had me stopping midsentence.
“I’m only going to work for a few hours, then you and I can spend some time together not in bed.”
I stared at him. “You mean like a date?”
“Like something other than fucking and working at the shop. I need a break, and I want to spend it with you.”
I had a feeling Beau rarely took any time off. “What about all the shit that’s going on?”
“It’ll go on with or without me there, and I trust my crew. I want some time with you before…”
I knew he meant before Remington returned, but neither of us finished the sentence.
“I can come to work with you, even if it’s only for a few hours.”
“No, you need to rest up. I took a lot out of you last night, and you didn’t sleep all that much.”
“Neither did you.”
“My ass didn’t take a beating, though.”
I sighed, remembering how good that had felt.
“Turn over. I want to see my handiwork.”
My cock jumped at his words. When I shifted onto my stomach, I had to fight the urge to rut against the mattress.
“So hot.” Beau’s voice was reverent as he ran a hand over my ass. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that my ass was still red right in the center of my cheeks where he’d hit me the hardest. Seeing it only made me harder, and the need to work my hips against the mattress overtook my control.
He slapped my ass, and I yelped. “No coming without me.”
“Again?”
“Yes, let’s see if you can do it this time.”
I was so desperate to keep my mind off how much I wanted to jerk off as I replayed every delicious thing Beau had done to me the night before, I started taking random books off the shelf in Remy’s library.
I read parts of some of the biographies and histories, and they weren’t nearly as dry and boring as I’d expected them to be.
I paced as I read. The combination of my aching ass and the memory of me and Beau defiling Remy’s reading chair kept me from wanting to sit down there. I didn’t dare go to sit on the couch because I’d forget where I’d taken the books from. Rearranging Remington’s collection was a definite no.
The morning passed much too slowly, but finally Beau returned. I was hoping he’d take me right to bed, and if it hadn’t been way too tempting—I’d tried and ended up with my hand around my dick in seconds—I’d have been waiting for him there.
As he entered, he looked me up and down. All I was wearing was a t-shirt and briefs. I lifted my shirt as he looked, sliding my hand slowly up my stomach.
He growled. “Get dressed while I shower and change.”
“I’ll join you in the shower.”
“No, you’ll get dressed like you were told, and you’ll wear a jockstrap to help you remember the consequences of disobedience.”
I bit my lip to keep from whining at him. Feeling my pants scratch against my ass would be distracting as hell. When I knew I could speak in a sexy voice, I said, “Don’t you want me to help scrub you?”
“If you do, I’ll end up fucking you against the shower wall, and you’re still too sore for that.”
I wanted to protest that I didn’t care, but his stern look told me not to. “There are other ways we could?—”
“I’m taking you out this afternoon, and you’re supposed to be learning discipline, remember?”
I’d been disciplined all fucking morning. “Yes, but?—”
“I’m hungry, and I’m going to take you out to lunch, so get moving.”
“Yes, sir,” I purred.
He scowled at me before turning to head up the stairs.
I walked slowly behind him, knowing if I got too close I might take a bite of his gorgeous ass.
I headed for his car when we left the house, but he took my hand and pulled me toward the sidewalk. “We’re walking.”
We headed down Dumaine toward the back of the Quarter.
We crossed over Burgundy street, the border of the area where tourists were told they were safe—as if you were ever really safe.
Not with people like the Theriots and those they took down lurking around.
Not to mention all the ghosts and spirits.
I’d yet to convince myself they weren’t even more dangerous than the humans.
We stopped in front of a rundown building with a white awning. The door under the awning read Seafood Est. 1947.
“Here?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re some kind of food snob.”
“Hell no. That’s Remy. I’ll try anything.”
He laughed. “Then trust me.”
I’d already trusted him with so much, following him into a sketchy looking restaurant was nothing.
Inside, there were six Formica tables with four teal vinyl chairs at each, the kind that were worth a lot of money on the vintage market, but I was sure these had been in place since the restaurant opened.
Some of the chairs were taped up, and one of the tables had a crack along the middle, but everything was clean, including the checkerboard floor.
Three of the tables were occupied, and Beau pointed to one closest to the counter. I took a seat, and in seconds, a white-haired woman came out from the back to take our order.
“Beaumont, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen you.”
“I’ve been busy, Miss Mary Fran. How are you? How’s Mr. Claude?”
“He’s doing fine, even if he won’t listen to his doctor.” She turned to me, eyeing me critically. “Who is this young man?”
“This is Corbin. Corbin, this is Miss Mary Fran. She and her husband Claude make the best étouffée you’ll ever eat.”
“He such a flatterer,” Mary Fran said.
“He is. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Her skeptical look faded, and she gave me a big smile. “You must be something special. He’s never brought a man in here.”
I smiled at Beau as warmth filled my chest. I wanted to be someone he would share special things with—secrets, his past, things he loved to do that no one else knew about.
“Shall I bring out two orders of étouffée?” she asked.
“Yes,” Beau answered without hesitation, “and two Abita Ambers.”
“You got it.” She headed back toward the kitchen.
With anyone else, I would be furious they hadn’t let me order for myself, but with Beau, I liked him taking charge with such confidence. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He reached over and laid his hand on top of mine. A woman at one of the tables across the restaurant gave us a curious look. I couldn’t tell if she was judging us or just trying to figure out if we were a couple. I didn’t much care. It was obvious Mary Fran didn’t mind.
“Miss Mary Fran was right,” Beau said. “I’ve never brought anyone here except Sam.”
I raised my brows. “And Miss Mary Fran didn’t think you two were…”
Beau laughed. “She did, but Sam set her straight, telling her no way in hell would she ever consider going out with me and also that she likes women.”
“And Mary Fran… She didn’t…”
“Claude and Mary Fran like people to be who they are. They respect people for living the lives they want. Mary Fran has been working at this restaurant her whole life. She loves feeding people, and she doesn’t need a flashy setting to do it in.
She’s had offers from restaurants where she could make a lot more money and gain a measure of fame—you’ll see how good her food is—but this is what she likes, a quiet place mostly patronized by locals plus a little bit of catering here and there. ”
We talked about places we liked to eat in the city until Mary Fran brought out our lunch.
When I took my first bite of étouffée, I was sure I’d died and gone to heaven.
No earthly food should taste that good. It was so rich, so flavorful, and the perfect consistency.
The shrimp were top quality and cooked just the right amount; they basically melted in my mouth. Even the rice was perfect.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Beau asked.
“Oh my God, yes. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything this good.”
“You won’t anywhere else.”