10. Basher
BASHER
It had taken all of his strength not to accept Cameron’s offer and follow him upstairs.
But he knew if he had, it would have just been a night of intense fucking and meaningless sex.
He was too riled up and horny to think straight or even give Cameron the attention he deserved.
When he got this horny, he was like a bull fighting in a ring.
He only had one goal—to destroy the tight fucking hole currently wrapped around his dick.
If he was going to continue working with Cameron and living in Baton, he needed to be careful about who he stuck his dick into.
Although Cameron was extremely sexy, Basher knew the situation needed to be handled carefully.
So, while it pained him to do it, he respectfully declined Cameron’s offer to come inside and headed back to his home, where he spent the next forty-five minutes watching video after video of Cameron riding dick.
He loved it and hated it both at the same time. Seeing the boy’s gorgeous ass bounce up and down had him painfully hard—knowing it was not his cock doing the fucking made him see red.
He didn’t claim to be mentally stable or understand the depths of his emotions.
By the time he had shot his load, his dick was all chafed and sore.
Yes, he was a pig and a bit of a stalker, but the boy was too fucking delicious not to shoot his nut all over his fucking chest.
One thing was certain: Basher had found his new favorite obsession.
So he began watching Cameron. Nothing creepy or anything.
Just being extra aware of where the boy was and what he was doing.
It was like observing a unicorn out in the wild.
He loved watching the way Cameron moved, the way he laughed, even the way his forehead crinkled when he was concentrating too hard on a task or something.
He noted that every Monday and Wednesday, Cameron left early. He finished his shift around three, then left, looking all happy and cheery. Basher couldn’t help but wonder where he was going or who he was seeing.
Basher’s possessive brain considered taking off early so he could follow the mysterious twink and see what he was really up to.
But a small voice inside his head told him that would be crossing too many lines.
So, for now, he watched and observed, taking note of all the sweet and kind things he enjoyed seeing about the boy.
The way he always smiled when people told him stories.
The way he always held the door open whenever an elderly lady was walking out of the bar.
You would think that Cameron was made of sugar and sunshine, the way he was so sweet all the time.
“Here, I made you these.” Cameron’s voice shook Basher from his one-man “Cameron’s so sweet” inner montage.
Basher looked down at the plastic container filled with fudge.
“You made these?” he asked, reaching in and pulling one out to try.
Cameron nodded. “For you.”
“For me?” Basher asked, taking the container Cameron was shoving toward him.
No one had ever made him anything before. Come to think of it, other than the guys from the Death Cruisers MC, no one had ever given him so much as a birthday gift—although shots of tequila and J?ger could be considered questionable gifts by some.
“Yeah, I never see you eating any sweets, so I thought I’d make you some of my famous fudge and see if perhaps you’d make an exception for me?”
Basher popped the chocolate into his mouth and nearly came in his pants.
The chocolate was so sweet and decadent, with a mix of peanut butter and some white chocolate drizzled over top.
“Fuck, that shit is good,” Basher mumbled, reaching for a second and popping it into his mouth as well.
Realizing he was being rude, he held the container out to Cameron, offering him a piece. Cameron smiled and took a piece for himself.
“Wow. Thank you. No one has ever baked for me before. You’re really fucking good at it.”
Basher watched as Cameron’s face lit up with the compliment. The guy looked so fuckin’ cute—it was adorable.
“You keep making me treats like these, and I’m going to lose my six-pack,” Basher noted, taking a third piece and popping it into his mouth.
Jesus, the fudge was so sweet and smooth, and it tasted so good. There was something about the mixture of chocolate and peanut butter that gave it that extra little kick.
Normally, Basher wasn’t much of a sweets eater, but having just tasted Cameron’s baking, he might have to re-evaluate his opinions.
Cameron smirked, then pressed his fist against Basher’s hard stomach.
“Something tells me that you would look sexy as hell, even with a few love handles.”
Basher blushed.
He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and compliments like these made something warm and unfamiliar bloom in his chest.
“What is this?” Nikolai boomed, totally ruining the moment the two of them were sharing.
“Cameron made me some treats,” Basher answered, holding out the container to the big, burly Russian.
Nikolai reached in and fished out two pieces. He popped them into his mouth, then let out an orgasmic moan.
“Can you teach my fiancé how to bake? He keeps trying to make me eat muffins with kale and all sorts of weird shit. Treats are supposed to have chocolate and sugar,” Nikolai spilled.
Then he turned to Basher. “Marry this man right now. He is way above your league, and he is still willing to bake you food. Marry him now.”
Basher felt his cheeks flush.
Yes, he was obsessed with the sweet little spitfire smiling up at him, but marriage? They weren’t even dating yet.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Cameron said, stroking Basher’s arm before heading back inside.
Basher gave Nikolai a dirty look.
“What?”
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
Nikolai gave him a cocky grin. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you out. You two have been flirting like crazy these past few weeks. It’s time you grew a pair and asked that boy out.”
Basher popped another piece of fudge into his mouth, then snapped the lid on the container. He needed to stop now, or else Cameron would be riding a dough boy whenever they did fuck.
It was just after midnight when Basher headed back inside.
The bar was about closed.
All customers had been kicked out, and the only ones who remained were Cameron, Alexis, and Basher.
“Want me to lock this?” Basher asked, referring to the front door he was standing next to.
“Umm, no,” Cameron said, straightening up behind the bar and looking over at Alexis. “You can head on home. I’ve just got some restocking to do, which will only take me a few minutes.”
“Are you sure, hun?” Alexis asked, already throwing on her rhinestone jacket and adjusting her tits beneath her top.
She and her husband, Jake, no doubt had another raunchy date planned, judging by the thick layer of lipstick she had applied the moment they kicked the last of the customers out of the bar.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You can head home as well, Basher,” Cameron said, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he headed toward the back room.
Basher held the door open for Alexis, then locked it behind her once she left. There was no way he was leaving Cameron here alone, especially this late at night.
No. He intended to walk Cameron home once everything was finished. Truthfully, he'd been doing it almost every night. Cameron just didn't know it. Basher always kept his distance, moving in the shadows and keeping out of sight.
Okay, maybe some people would see it as stalkerish behavior, but Basher didn’t give a shit what those morons thought. All he cared about was making sure Cameron got home safely each night. If anyone thought there was something wrong with that, they could go fuck themselves.
It wasn’t like he was bothering Cameron or anything. He always walked several blocks back and stayed in the shadows. As far as Cameron was concerned, he was fully independent and always walked home alone each night.
“So, what do you need?” Basher asked, sneaking up on Cameron, who was bent over, pulling a few bottles of vodka from the middle shelf.
Cameron jumped and nearly dropped the bottles he was holding.
“Jesus! Bash, don’t fuckin’ sneak up on me like that!” Cameron pleaded, clutching the bottles to his chest as he tried to regain control of his heartbeat.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. Actually, I could use your big, strong muscles. Want to grab a case or two of those premium beers?”
“No problem.” Basher grabbed two cases, then balanced them both on his shoulder. “Where do you want them?”
He watched as Cameron’s mouth parted slightly, his gaze drifting lower. Only then did Basher realize his shirt had ridden up, exposing the lower part of his obliques.
“Umm… just…” Cameron’s voice trailed off.
Basher was enjoying the attention. It wasn’t often he felt this seen—especially when no blood or fists were involved.
“Behind the bar?” Basher asked with a cocky smirk on his face.
Cameron’s eyes snapped to his, and a deep crimson flush raced across his cheeks as his brain abruptly rebooted and caught up with what had just happened.
“Ah… yeah. Behind the bar is great.”
They carried their items back upstairs, with Basher shouldering most of the heavy load. He didn’t mind. He liked being there to help Cameron.
“This should just take a minute,” Cameron said, bending down and opening the fridge under the bar. They began restocking, with Basher passing Cam bottles two at a time.
Cameron was right. They were done in ten minutes.
As he passed Cam the last of the beers, Basher’s gaze dropped and locked onto the sexy young man, just inches from his crotch. The crack of Cam’s ass was showing, giving Basher a tease of what lay beneath.
Basher let out a growl.
The sight of Cameron, all vulnerable and on his knees, sent something dark and primal surging through his veins.
His jaw tightened, and a possessive edge crept into his thoughts.
He wanted Cam… more than he’d ever wanted any other man.
“That’s the last,” Basher said, staring down at the boy who suddenly looked up.
His lips were wet, glistening under the soft glow of the bar lighting.