Chapter Two
P eter wiped the table down after the last customer had left and checked the clock on the wall. Ten more minutes and he would close. He’d had a good day today, customer wise. A couple of busy spells at the usual times. Breakfast, lunchtime, and after people had finished work.
The ladies had been in as well, a group of older women who came in most days, which always made the day go faster. Today he had the pleasure of listening to Pam tell the other ladies about her husband and how she gave him a good rummage. Rummage as in a hand job. That was an image he didn’t need, but now had.
Taking the dirty cups to the back, he placed them in the dishwasher as the door opened at the front. Glancing at the clock, he already had a smile on his face when he walked through to the front. The customer wasn’t by the till where Peter expected them to be. He sat at one of the empty tables, and Peter noticed the place was darker than normal. Light filtered in from the lights on the sidewalk, enough that Peter could see the man, but it made him briefly hesitate before walking over to him.
Smiling, Peter said, “I’m sorry. We’re about to close. I can make you some takeout, if you want.”
“I don’t want a drink, Peter. I came to see you.”
Peter furrowed his brow. He looked the man up and down, not recognizing him. “Do we know each other?” He was fairly certain he’d never met the man before, and he would have remembered. The man sitting in front of him was attractive. Dark hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes.
“You don’t know me, Peter, but I know you. I’ve watched you for years.” The man paused before adding, “I’m sorry for the loss of your wife.”
Peter sucked in a breath. Losing Diane to cancer two years previously had devastated him and their boys but they were slowly recovering. How this man knew concerned Peter. “Who are you?”
“My name is Minho. But the question you should be asking is what are you?”
Peter took a step back, glanced at the front door then back at the stranger. Minho. “What are you?” Two questions in one. What are you as in why that particular question and as an actual question.
“I am a vampire and you are my mate.”
“And you are off your meds.” Minho chuckled, the sounds dancing over Peter’s skin. He sucked in another breath, startled at his reaction. He wasn’t sure he liked his reaction. “Maybe you should leave.”
“Maybe I should stay and you should sit. We need to talk.”
“Nope. Can’t think of anything I want to say to you.”
“Fine. Then sit and listen to me talk. I’ve waited years to have this opportunity. What’s five minutes of your time compared to that?”
“This conversation makes no sense. You look thirty. How could you have been waiting years for me?”
“I first saw you when you were twenty. You’d married Diane a few months earlier. It was a carnival. You were both laughing at the clowns. I knew who you were to me but I stayed away. You were in love and with someone else, had made a promise to her, and I wasn’t going to get in the way. Instead I spent my time watching over you, keeping you safe. How do you think you survived that car accident? You and your son, Rex. I dealt with the door and pulled you away before the fire took hold. I saved both of you.”
Peter remembered that day well. It wasn’t one he was ever going to forget. He’d known they would die. The door had jammed shut and they couldn’t get out. The fire coming closer, the car next to them already blazing, the engine on theirs smoking as flames took hold. He’d known they were going to die, and his only thought was somehow trying to save Rex. As long as his son was safe, he didn’t care about himself.
The door wouldn’t budge, the metal twisted in the crash and heat, and Rex was screaming. Peter had been reaching for him when suddenly the door was gone and he’d stared up into hazel eyes… “You.”
“Yes.” Minho pointed to the chair on the other side of the table. “Please sit with me. I’ve waited a long time. Five minutes is all I ask.”
Peter pulled the chair out, ignoring it scraping along the floor, and dropped into it. He was sitting across from the man who had saved him and Rex. Now he knew him. Now he remembered him. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, Peter shook his head slowly. “Why now?”
“I would never have interfered in your marriage. You were in love and I wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize that. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of you. I expected to watch you grow older, and eventually die and then keep your sons safe. I made that promise, but then Diane passed unexpectedly. I stayed away to give you time to grieve but now the time is right for me to speak to you.”
“What’s a mate?”
“A mate is someone who is your other half. It’s like marriage but more intense. We rarely separate. Why would we when we’re with the one person who completely understands us? Even me describing it to you is nowhere near enough to explain what a mate is. How important mates are. Mates are everything to a vampire, and you are mine.”
“Vampire,” Peter scoffed.
Minho made a sound at the back of his throat, then opened his mouth. Peter watched the fangs descend and scrambled back, almost falling out of his chair with his need to create distance between them. How had he done that? He had seen them, right? He wasn’t hallucinating. He had seen them. Minho closed his mouth, his eyes tracking every move Peter made. “I’ve surprised you.”
Yes, of course Peter would be surprised. He’d seen something happen that shouldn’t have. “How are they real?”
“Because I’m a vampire. They’re part of the species.” A flash of a smile then Minho held his hand open. “Please sit with me.”
Peter remained where he was. “I think I’ll stay here.”
“If you wish.” Minho glanced outside. “It’s getting darker earlier now. Winter is coming.”
“Yes.” Peter never took his eyes from Minho. His once orderly world was being tipped on its head.
“I’d like to take you out one night. A meal. Just the two of us so we can get to know each other.”
“Why?”
“Why? You’re my mate, my other half. I want to get to know you.”
“I don’t think that would be wise. I have children and I’m not into men.”
“Hmm. I see.” Minho stood, ran his hand along the edge of the table, then suddenly appeared in front of him. One second he stood by the table, the next in front of Peter.
Peter cried out, startled, staggered back a step, then Minho had him in his arms and kissed him. The second his warm, soft lips touched Peter’s, he reacted, but not in the way he thought he would have. Instead of pushing Minho away, his hands gripped Minho’s arms and pulled him close. Opening his lips to Minho’s tongue, Peter moaned into the kiss at the same time as he moved closer to Minho’s body so they touched everywhere.
Minho tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and Peter gasped when a fang nicked his lip. It didn’t frighten him. No, it made him hot, made him burn, and he growled as he kissed Minho back. Minho reacted, his hands sliding around Peter’s body, gripping his ass, moving them until Peter’s back hit the wall. He spread his legs, pushing up against Minho, surprised at how hard his dick had become. How much it ached for Minho’s touch.
Minho moved his hand, cupping Peter’s bulge, and Peter bucked, pushing into Minho’s palm. They moved again until Peter felt a table on the back of his legs, and Minho pushed him back. He lay on the table, Minho covering him, letting him tug his jeans open.
“Kick your shoes off.”
Peter arched up, rubbing against Minho, trying to push his shoes off. When they hit the floor, Minho pulled back, shoving Peter’s jeans and underwear down his legs and dropping them on the floor. Sliding his hands up Peter’s legs, Minho ran his fingers over Peter’s long rigid shaft, then leaned over and captured Peter’s lips in a demanding kiss. Peter surrendered to it, his body coming alive in a way he’d never experienced before. He knew where this was heading and he was a little unsure, but not enough to tell Minho to stop. He wanted this as much as Minho.
His reaction surprised him, but Peter was old enough to know that he wouldn’t be this aroused if there wasn’t something between him and Minho. He may not have been with a man before, but this burning need to have Minho had him throwing caution to the wind.
Minho dropped to his knees in front of Peter, caught his eyes, then licked up his dick. Peter curled up, his fingers treading through Minho’s hair. “Minho.”
“Let me do this. Let me make you feel good.”
Minho scraped his fangs on the inside of Peter’s thigh, making Peter shiver. He saw Minho’s eyes glow, a light ring around the edge. It didn’t frighten him. No, it heightened his awareness of the man and made him want more. “Yes.”
Minho kissed his thigh, then mouthed Peter’s balls. Peter groaned, watching Minho watch him. It was erotic, salacious, made Peter’s heart race in his chest, but he couldn’t look away. Minho had captured his attention in less than ten minutes, and in that moment, Peter strangely had no problem with that.
Minho licked his balls, tugged on the wrinkled skin, sucking it into his mouth. Peter quivered, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. When Minho sucked one into his mouth, both men moaned at the same time. It felt good, so good, and Peter had no intention of telling Minho to stop. He might have never been with a man before but what was happening between them he wanted one hundred percent.
Minho laved his balls with his tongue, licking and sucking and mouthing them until Peter trembled with need. When he moved away from them, Peter held his breath, watching Minho’s warm, wet tongue slide up his dick then circle the head.
The spongy head of his dick swelled under Minho’s touch, pre-come dribbling from the slit, and Minho swept it up with his tongue, swallowing as his eyes bored into Peter’s. Peter opened his mouth, panting softly, watching Minho circle the head again then suck it into his mouth. Tight heat had Peter tensing, pleasure building, and he lay back on the table, both hands holding Minho’s head in place.
Minho kissed the head of his dick, licked the spongy surface, suckled it, mouthed it. Peter groaned when Minho took him deep, swallowed around him, humming as he pulled up, keeping his lips tight around the hard shaft before dropping down again until his nose was buried in Peter’s short pubes. Peter gasped, groaned, his hands gripping Minho’s head. Thrusting up into warm wet heaven, Peter growled.
Minho pulled up, slid off, and kissed Peter’s shaft. He moved his hands to the back of Peter’s thighs and pushed them up, spreading them wide. Peter grabbed them and held them, held his breath at the same time then released it in a whoosh when Minho flicked his tongue over his asshole.
“So good,” Minho murmured.
“Minho…” Peter arched and moaned when Minho licked his ass, the flat of his tongue running over it repeatedly. Having never had this done before he hadn’t anticipated how amazing it would feel. “More,” he begged, needing to feel Minho’s tongue on his ass again.
Minho grunted, continued licking his ass, sweeping his tongue over it before sliding it inside. Peter tensed at the unfamiliar stretch, then relaxed when Minho’s tongue wriggled before disappearing. Peter held his breath then groaned when Minho slowly fucked his ass with his tongue. His body trembled, tensing and relaxing then tensing again, riding the waves of pleasure Minho was creating in him.
In and out, making Peter’s mind scramble, his body bow. Sweat broke out over his heated skin, his hands scrambling on the table as Minho pushed him higher and higher. A finger pushed inside, causing Peter to hold his breath then cry out when it found something inside him that made his body shake. “Minho…”
“Prostate. Just wait. It gets better.”
Two fingers pushed in deep and rubbed his prostate, and Peter shuddered, his body burning up. It hurt, but that soon disappeared under the onslaught of sensation he hadn’t felt before, and when a third finger pushed inside, Peter panted, waiting for the burn to disappear.
Minho used his fingers, stretching him, fucking him, and when they pulled free, Peter whined in displeasure. He heard movement, felt something cold on his ass that made him gulp, then there was more pushing. Something thicker pushed inside and Peter cried out, his ass feeling like it was being stretched too far, arching up off the table to push Minho away, then Minho’s lips were there, taking Peter’s own in a hot, dirty, kiss.
Peter sank back on the table, his hands grabbing Minho’s arms. “Minho.”
“I’ve got you. I’m going to make you feel so good, Peter. Going to make you mine.”
Peter closed his eyes and pulled Minho’s lips back to his own and surrendered to Minho’s touch. “Yes. Do it. Make me yours.”