“You’re not old.”
“No, I’m not, but I do have ten years of experience in this industry. And yet… I’m sitting here and realizing just how many aspects of it - in the kitchen - I left it all to Theo to run. I guided him on a lot of things but I was always more about the books, the orders, the tables. He was the one running things with the food and I let him do that.”
“You trusted him. That’s not a failure on your part. It’s… if we can’t trust people then what kind of sad suspicious life are we leading?”
“True.” Michael smirked at me. “You’ve always been a smart one. But that’s my point. I appreciate your smarts, and how confident you are in sharing this knowledge with me because it’s showing me how I relied on Theo too much. After he left I just… trusted the other chefs who replaced him to be just as good, and now I’m seeing how many corners they cut.”
“I mean… Theo does have talent.” It stung to say that, tasted like a bad batch of sour lemon drops in my mouth to say it, burning my tongue, but it was true. Theo hadn’t just gotten this far on his good looks, although I’m sure those helped. “He just got too caught up in it and went too far, made things too frilly. And then no other chef was him, so no other chef could replicate the menu, and I’m sure that the replacements all felt a lot of fucking pressure, like, shit I’m replacing Theo fucking Summers. And you can’t keep up with a chef’s menu when it’s that fucking personal, you just can’t. So they cut corners instead to try and imitate him. None of them are bad people.”
“I’m not saying they are.”
“Well.” I grinned at Michael. “Theo’s a fucking asshole. But the others aren’t.”
“It’s a fine line in the cooking world between a confident chef and a fucking asshole and he walks it.” Michael rolled his eyes, then focused back in on me. His gaze pinned me to my seat, magnetic and grounded. “I’m glad I hired you. You’ve really turned the place around and opened my eyes. It’s clear that you know what you’re doing in a way none of the others did. I’d say you’re even more on the ball than Theo was when he was first starting out the way you are.”
Oh my God. My stomach flipped and I nearly jumped up and screamed, fist pumping the air in factory. That was what I’d been hoping for, professionally. To be told that I had what it took, that I was doing well.
“Do you really mean that?” I asked. It wasn’t exactly that I… doubted Michael, no. He’d always been honest with me and was just an honest guy in general. But I also had to be sure.
“Of course I do.” Michael’s tone was warm but serious. “I had to do a lot of hand-holding with Theo when he was first starting out. It was why our friendship was so strong, or why I felt it was. Clearly he didn’t. But you… I haven’t had to do anything. You’ve stepped right in with a plan and you’ve executed it perfectly. You’ve been a good team leader in the kitchen, and everyone loves working with you.”
“…does this mean that you’ve… that you’ve decided to hire me permanently?” The month was just about up, after all. It was time to shit or get off the pot, for both of us.
Michael nodded, looking at me with this kind of fondness that made me want to cover my face and sink to the floor, it overwhelmed me. “You’ve passed your provisional period with flying colors.”
I could scream. I wanted to leap across the booth we’re seated in and hug him, linoleum and plastic be damned, but I also didn’t want to make a scene.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I admitted.
“Well I hope that you’ll say you’re glad and that you’re not quitting,” Michael joked.
I shook my head. “Not for the world, you’re fucking stuck with me there.” If only he knew how much, I wish I could tell him right then and there my devotion, that there was never a chance of me leaving, that I’d always wanted to work with him and be with him…
But I could remember what he’d said just the other day about not wanting to get into a serious relationship. I had to be patient. I needed him to come to the conclusion on his own that we were right for each other. I couldn’t force it on him or pester him about it or he’d get obstinate or frustrated—it was just human nature to be that way.
“Profits are actually up by fifteen percent,” Michael went on. “It could be a little early to tell, but I don’t think so. Our reservation numbers are up, and the hostesses report we’re getting a lot more repeat customers. Not just the tourists.”
In big cities with a lot of fancy restaurants, we would get tourists who would come in just to say they’d eaten somewhere with a Michelin star. And that wasn’t even counting the foodie tourists who literally went to each Michelin starred restaurant and had a whole bucket list for that sort of thing.
But regulars were the backbone. They were the ones who kept you afloat. The family who came for every birthday, the couple who came for every anniversary, the businessmen who had their weekly lunch - they kept you going.
And now we were starting to get those again, thank fucking Christ.
“If these numbers aren’t a fluke and things continue as they have been, I should be out of the red by the end of the year,” Michael finished up. “I had no fucking clue how I was going to turn this thing around, Stevie. And you’re managing it.”
I could feel my face was hot, and I let myself feel proud. I had done it. I’d had my goal, what I’d set out to do… and I’d accomplished that.
Okay, so it was a little early to tell for certain. And ‘we will be out of the red’ wasn’t the same thing as ‘we are out of the red’.
But still!
This called for a goddamn celebration, if you asked me.
After we finished eating the diner food- which was good, hey, I wasn’t going to say I didn’t enjoy it - Michael took me back to my apartment.
New confidence bubbled in me. From his pride in my accomplishments, to his joking with me, to the fact that he actually had noticed me as a teenager and the goofy things I’d done with Brooke like the movies we’d quote at each other… I was feeling like I really had a shot at a proper relationship with him. I just had to keep being patient.
And hey, in the meantime, there was no reason to stop having fun in bed.
Speaking of which…
I knew that Andy was going to be gone for the day. He had some work shit to take care of in the afternoon and then in the evening he was going out to a bar with some buddies because that was what Andy did every damn Friday evening.
Not that I thought he was wrong for doing it or anything. But how did the guy expect Brooke to take him seriously when he didn’t take himself or his life seriously, y’know?
It was annoying as fuck. I loved my brother, but also I wanted to strangle him sometimes. Perks of being a sibling, I figured. I didn’t know of a single person who loved their siblings who didn’t also want to kill them regularly.
But the good thing about it right now was that the apartment was blessedly, blissfully empty.
“Would you like to come up for some dessert?” I asked.
Michael turned the engine off on the car. “If it’s anything like the last one you made, hell yeah.”
I was ridiculously proud of that cheesecake, not gonna lie.
I led him upstairs, and felt a slight twinge of unease—hoping that he liked the space, that he liked my room, that he thought it was properly adult. I didn’t want to give him any reason to start thinking of me as a child again. Not when I finally had him.
Luckily Andy hadn’t made a mess in the living room and I knew that I’d had my own room clean. I led Michael straight to the bedroom.
Michael looked confused. It was actually adorable. “I thought we were having dessert,” he said, speaking slowly and suspicion beginning to enter his face.
I pouted at him. “Of course you are.” I reached up and pulled my t-shirt off. “I’m the dessert.”
Michael gave me a look half of amusement, half of arousal. “You’re a little minx, you know that, Miss Lake?”
&nb
sp; “Ooh, using my last name. Am I in trouble, Mr. Madison?”
Michael growled and walked over to me as I yanked down my jeans, stepping out of them and grabbing onto him for balance. “Keep that up and you just might earn yourself a spanking.”
“You say that like I’d be upset.” I replied, sliding my hands up his chest as Michael yanked me into him. I could feel him getting hard against my hip and a thrill shot through me. I didn’t think I would ever stop being thrilled that he was so turned on by me, that I got him to be like this.
Michael laughed, his hands sliding down to my ass, one of them lightly spanking me. I jumped, heat shooting through me, pooling between my legs. He chuckled.
“You’re a menace,” I told him.
“Says the woman who just told me she was the dessert and then got naked. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I reached down between us, grabbing his cock through his pants, rolling it on my palm. “Oh, a little bit,” I replied, grinning as I felt his breath hitch.
You know what? There was something I had been dying to do that I hadn’t done quite yet. And Michael had been so generous to me the other night…
I sank down to my knees and started undoing his pants.
Michael inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening as he watched me. “Stevie…”
“Shhh.” I shoved his pants down and drew out his cock.
I had touched it, and gotten glimpses of it, but not right in front of me like this. Not when I could take my time admiring it, seeing the full girth and length of it. It was hard, and thick, and my mouth watered. I wanted that inside of my mouth.
I looked up at Michael, who was staring at me like I’d taken all the breath out of him. I winked.
Then I started nuzzling his cock.
I wanted to swallow it down right away, to see how far I could take it in my mouth before I choked—but I wanted to tease Michael the way that he’d teased me the other day. I wanted to give him a blowjob that was so good, he never wanted to be with anyone else, ever. I wanted him to be addicted to me.
Just like I was addicted to him.
I lapped delicately at the head, like I was sampling a dessert. Michael’s hips hitched, like he was seeking my mouth, trying to get me to take in more of him, but I played it coy. I just kept licking up and down his cock, tasting him, getting him nice and wet, seeing what made him swear quietly under his breath, what made his hips jerk, what made him tug at my hair.
“You can tug all you want,” I whispered. I could feel that Michael was holding back a little, that he was worried about hurting me. His grip on my hair was tentative, like he wanted to go for more but wasn’t sure if he should.
The moment I told him that, he slid his fingers into my hair properly and got a good handful. I moaned in approval, and then finally took him—just the head of his cock—in my mouth as a reward.
Michael tugged sharply on my hair and I moaned again, growing even wetter at the sensation. It felt so dirty, so naughty, and I loved it.
Now that I’d started to get him into my mouth, I couldn’t stop. It was like the best candy, forbidden candy, and I wanted to see how far I could go. I licked along stripe up the underside, then swirled my tongue around the head right before I sank down onto his cock.
I had to go slowly, both to tease him and to draw out his pleasure, and because I had never done this before. I had done plenty of research, read online articles, that kind of thing—I’d even practiced on my dildo a few times—but there was no substitute for the real deal.
Michael groaned, long and low, and when I glanced up at him through my lashes I saw that he looked absolutely wrecked. I felt a surge of triumph and I got back to work, drawing my mouth up and down, taking in more and more of him until he hit the back of my throat.
Fuck, he was so fucking big, hot and throbbing, heavy on my tongue, stretching my mouth wide. I loved it. I felt so powerful, making him feel this good, but I also felt used in a way, and both sensations felt so fucking good to me.
Michael started to thrust, tentatively, and I gave a low moan of encouragement. He thrust harder, fucking my mouth, and I could feel a fresh wave of slick sliding down my thighs. I was so turned on, I knew that it wouldn’t take much for me to orgasm. I was so ready for him to come in my mouth, to swallow it all down, to have him mark up my face and claim me that way—
Michael yanked me away with a ragged groan, tugging at my hair so hard that my head was pulled back, his cock sliding free of my lips with an obscene, wet noise. I shivered in anticipation at the look in his eyes, the green of them nothing more than a thin, burning ring around the black of his pupils.
“Oh no,” he growled. “We’re not done yet. I’m not done with you, yet.”
I couldn’t wait to see what he had planned.
17
Michael
I nearly came straight down Stevie’s throat. She felt so fucking good, wet and tight and perfect around my cock—not to mention how she looked like that, on her knees, her dark eyes peeking up at me through those long lashes.
But I had plans for her, and as tempting as it would be to come in her mouth, to maybe even mark up her face and chest a little, a tangible claim that she was mine… not tonight. No. First, I wanted to fuck her.
Stevie rose to her feet, licking her lips like I was the best lollipop she’d ever tasted. “What did you have in mind?” she asked me, her voice rough and husky from sucking me.
That was the sexiest damn voice I’d ever heard. It was almost enough to make me shove my cock back into her mouth, to see how much rougher her voice could get. But no, I wanted to be inside of her properly.
There was also something else I wanted to try.
Virginia was a lot taller than Stevie, and so I hadn’t ever been able to act out a particular fantasy of mine. But now… now I could.
I kissed Stevie, licking into her, tasting myself on her tongue as I walked her backwards and through her room, until her back collided with the wall. I grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head against the wall with one hand as my other hand slid between her legs.
Jesus Christ, she was wet, and I growled in approval as I started to finger her. Stevie cried out against my mouth, shuddering. She was already so close, and just from sucking me off.
I got three fingers sinking into her with no problem, grinning as she writhed on them, whimpering.
“Michael…Michael please,” she begged.
“Please what? You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Please…please fuck me,” she begged.
“Well…” I grinned, feeling like a wolf with Little Red Riding Hood: so naughty but oh, so good. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Stevie gave me a look that said she was about to start swearing and cursing her head off at me if I didn’t get my ass into gear, so I released her wrists and grabbed her underneath her thighs, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around me.
Stevie gasped, grabbing onto my shoulders. “Oh my God,” she blurted out. “Oh my! Holy fuck that is so hot.”
“Glad you think so,” I told her, nibbling at her neck.
It took a slight bit of maneuvering, but then I slowly thrust into her, feeling it all over as Stevie shuddered and contracted around me, going tight and I felt like I couldn’t even see, that I was cross-eyed with how damn good she felt.
I fucked into her rough and hard, encouraged by her moans and her begging. She was clawing at my shoulders, at my chest, kissing me frantically all over. It was perfect and yet over too quickly as I spilled inside of her, felt her coming around me, felt both of us shuddering to our release in tandem.
Holy shit. I just couldn’t help myself around Stevie, it seemed, and more than that, I didn’t really want to.
Sunday morning, I woke up feeling damn good about the world. I even slept in just a bit—best sleep I’d had in ages. My only wish was that Stevie had been in my arms all night. Ever since Virginia had left me I’d struggled to get used to the idea
of sleeping alone again, and now that I had Stevie, I craved to have her with me as I slept, a warm weight in my arms.
But that was something I could deal with later. We weren’t in a relationship, just having fun, like I’d said. Honestly? I was surprised that Stevie went along with it and seemed so easygoing about it. She was a bright and beautiful woman, at the beginning of her career, so maybe it wasn’t so odd. Why would she want to settle down when she had so much to deal with in her life, just graduating and getting a new job and all that?
At the same time, though, I knew her. Or I had known her. And Stevie had always struck me as the kind of person who wanted a kid, a family, wanted to find someone to settle down while. While my own daughter had been flirting with boys right and left and chattering on about crushes, Stevie had never mentioned a single guy, at least not in my presence. Whenever Brooke had brought it up, Stevie had said something along the lines of not wanting to deal with high school boys and wanting to wait for someone mature and serious.
I admired that about her. So why was she bothering to waste her time with me?
In any case, there was no use in wishing for something I wasn’t going to get, and I didn’t even need. I didn’t want a relationship. I’d said it and I meant it. My bed was just fine with me in it by myself, thanks. Or so I reminded myself, anyway, as I went downstairs to grab breakfast.
Brooke was still asleep, so I just made some toast. I couldn’t help but remember the meal that Stevie had made me for breakfast, that delicious sandwich. Maybe I could persuade her to make that for me again, if I teased her and got my hand back up her skirt…
Dammit. That woman did things to my blood that nobody else ever had. I wanted to lock us both in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and fuck her for a week straight, until neither of us could even think of walking.
I grabbed the newspaper. That ought to give me something to distract myself. I could read it online, and often did—I read a lot of restaurant publications online, to keep up with the news in the business, but there was something about getting the Sunday paper, in print, that spoke to me. Probably because it reminded me of coming downstairs as a kid and finding my father reading it as my mother read the comics section. It was her favorite, and my father had always made sure to hand it to her first thing.
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