Stud Muffin

by Lauren Landish

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems like you two have history. How do you know her?”

  “We met once,” I admit evasively. I’m still in shock that she’s here. What are the fucking odds?

  “Why are you being coy?” Caleb asks. “That’s not like you. You’re more likely to tell me all the details right down to her preferred cut of panties.”

  “Because there’s nothing to say,’ I say shortly. “I met her at a wedding a year ago.”

  Caleb shakes his head. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? You can almost choke on the tension between you two.”

  “What do you want from me? You know me. I ran my mouth and went a little too far. But she’s still a hothead,” I mutter, my eyes fixed on her, and I instinctively lick my lips without realizing it.

  “Dude, are we going to have a problem here?”

  I ignore him. I don’t want to play twenty questions right now. Luckily, one of the staff comes to lead us down a hallway, sweat still beading down my body. “Hey, didn’t they say we were eating dinner?” I ask. I’ve worked up a fucking appetite. My stomach growls as if to accentuate the point.

  Caleb chuckles darkly. “I wouldn’t get too excited. Who knows what the fuck this dude’s going to have us eating.”

  We fall in directly behind the girls as we’re led into a large dining room that looks natural and rustic. The large windows give a breathtaking panoramic view of the gorgeous orchards and grounds of the property. The tables are unusual, more Japanese in style, and there are no chairs. I guess we’re expected to sit on the floor.

  “I hope they have enough to go around,” Cassie says impishly as if she has any idea what they’re serving. I see Caleb open his mouth to make a reply, but I bump him on the shoulder. I don’t need any big sticks of meat jokes right now, even if Cassie did set herself up with that comment.

  Alani motions us through the dining room to another, smaller room that has a table covered with a bunch of hand-woven palm frond baskets that are empty. She gives us a small smile and disappears.

  Wesley stands at the head of the table, grinning. The damn bird of his is still perched on his shoulder, and I wonder if it shits on it too. It’s almost always there. It sure as hell can’t be sanitary.

  “What’s this?” Hannah asks suspiciously while I look around. I’m not exactly prepared to eat. I’m still shirtless, and I need to wash all this fucking sand off me.

  “Challenge number two,” Wesley says, spreading his hands out, indicating the empty baskets. “To truly appreciate Mother Nature’s bounty, you must be in touch with her gifts. Making dinner for everyone. In fact, to honor your teammate, you will eat only what they prepare, although I will sample all the dishes for judging. There are some ingredients in the kitchen, all sourced from the land here. You will also have access to the garden, the grove, and whatever else you need. You’ll have a time limit, though.”

  I let out a groan. I could fuck up a microwave dinner. We have no chance in hell.

  Hannah and Cassie, on the other hand, immediately start whispering with each other, starting their game plan. Caleb looks at me miserably, and I can see he’s in the same position I am. Between the two of us, we may starve because I don’t think either of us can make anything edible. I turn to Wesley, shaking my head. “This isn’t fair,” I protest. “Caleb and I couldn’t cook a pizza even if you spotted us a crust, sauce, and an Italian grandmother.”

  “What’s the problem? A few too many protein shakes and drive-thrus?” Cassie taunts, and Hannah smirks. Maybe that’s why Hannah brought her. Cassie talks a good game.

  Wesley smiles, holding up a hand before anyone can reply. “Tony, I didn’t say the teams yet. As you saw earlier, things are not always what they seem and what you think you’re being evaluated on is not always my focus. You and Hannah will be one team. Cassie and Caleb the other.”

  “What?” Hannah almost shrieks, looking absolutely mortified. “Tony and I can’t be on the same team!”

  “Why not?”

  Hannah looks flustered, but is obviously trying to tame her reaction. “Be…because we’re supposed to be competing against them!”

  Wesley smiles serenely. I swear that this guy is into Zen or something. “It matters not. Your dishes will be judged individually, and I thought I’ve made it clear it’s not only about winning. You need to show that you are capable of helping people, even those you don’t like.”

  She looks like she’s going to protest but then stops. “All right. I’m sure he could use a lesson on how to make it hot and spicy.” She flashes me a charming smile that floors me. Oh, this is going to be fun.

  Her smile is convincing, but I remind myself that it might be part of her plan. She’s not going to flip the switch that quickly. It’s going to take work before I have her eating out of my hand. But that smile . . . damn, she’s good.

  Hannah turns, bending over slightly, and whispers something in Cassie’s ear. Cassie nods and walks over to Caleb. “Hey, beefcake, you know how to make shrimp on a barbie? If not, I’m sure we can roast some wieners over an open flame.”

  Caleb gulps and gives me a look I totally understand. Yep, they can't be trusted.

  Hannah comes up beside me and pokes me in the ribs. “Hey, partner,” she purrs in my ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you all about cooking. I know how to make everything mouth-watering.”

  My cock twitches in my pants at her words. Fuck, I don’t stand a chance. “Watch yourself,” I warn her, trying not to let on to the desire raging through my veins.

  She grins impishly, biting her lip before turning to Wesley. “I can’t wait to start, but can we clean up a little bit first?”

  Wesley nods. “Of course. Meet me in the kitchen in twenty minutes. Someone will show you where you can clean up.”

  “Thanks.”

  The devious grin she flashes me as she leaves the room with Cassie seems to say Game On.

  Twenty minutes later, wearing a fresh tank top and some borrowed board shorts, I can’t help but laugh as Caleb and Cassie come in. “Dude . . . you’re wearing pink!”

  “Don’t fucking start,” Caleb grumbles. He’s got on a pink tank top that says Cowabunga! “This is her idea of team spirit. And it was easier to give in than to argue. Can we just get this over with?”

  Wesley chuckles and leads us into the kitchen. The prep area’s been laid out with all sorts of ingredients, and I feel like I just walked into a cable TV cooking show. There’s fish, pork, chicken, all sorts of fruits . . . I can’t even begin to identify them all. Meanwhile, Hannah looks like she’s in heaven.

  “How much time do we have?” she asks.

  “Ninety minutes,” Wesley says, tapping a clock on the wall. “Starting . . . now.”

  We head over to the table, and right away, I can tell Hannah’s done this before. She goes through the ingredients slowly, thoughtfully deciding on her selections before putting them in her little basket. The whole time, she’s talking quietly to herself, and in fewer than three minutes, she has what she wants.

  All I’ve got is some coconut and a mango in my basket. “Okay, let’s get you set up,” she says, and I bristle and reach for the shrimp, knocking her hand aside.

  “Hey, watch it!”

  “Just trying to be helpful,” I say, and Hannah bites back a reply before smiling. “I was thinking Cassie had a good idea. Shrimp?”

  “With?”

  “I dunno,” I reply, shrugging. “Let’s see what happens.”

  Back at our bench, Hannah starts cutting up pineapple into bite-sized bits. Then she douses it in some sort of dark sauce.

  “Soy?”

  “Balsamic vinegar. It’s a slaw. Have you cleaned your shrimp?”

  “Uh, what?” I ask helplessly.

  “You do know you should take out the poop chute, right?” Hannah asks, and I shake my head in mild disgust, causing her to let out a sigh. “Here, let me show you . . .” She gives me a quick lesson on how
to peel and devein shrimp and I’m shocked at how much work goes into it.

  “What now?” I ask. “Barbeque?”

  “Not unless you want them to have no flavor,” Hannah says. “Soak it in soy sauce for five minutes, and while you do that, grab that garlic paste and the coconut.”

  Hannah abandons her side of the bench to bust open a coconut. She quickly shreds the fresh coconut before mixing it with the garlic paste. “Okay, take out your shrimp and . . .” I listen to her orders intensely, following them one by one.

  “Guac,” Hannah says when we’re done with the skewering and cooking, running up front with two big avocados. “Squeeze of lime, salt, and a chopped up tomato. Mix, done.”

  I nod, getting it done quickly. When it’s finished, I dip a finger in to taste. I’m not sure, so I hold it out to Hannah. “Try?”

  She hesitates, and for a moment, I think she’ll refuse. But then she wraps her sweet lips around my finger and I’m forced to hold in a groan as my dick becomes rock hard in my shorts. At first, I thought it was genuine, then she makes a show of it, fluttering her eyes and swirling her tongue around my finger like it’s my cock.

  “Two minutes,” Wesley says, reminding us and shaking me back to reality. Hannah grins devilishly at me as I pull my finger out of her mouth and I’m speechless.

  Shoving down my lust, I hurry to finish up. “Five, four, three, two, one . . . that’s it, hands up, step away!”

  I throw my hands up and step back, amazed that I actually put together a dinner, and look over at Hannah, who’s smiling at me. I know I shouldn’t trust her, but it almost looks real.

  We carry our dishes into the other room, where Alani has laid out placemats on the floor, ringing the central area. “Now . . . as a show of respect to your fellow competitor,” Wesley says, sitting down easily behind one of the placemats, “you will feed your partner the first bite.”

  I sit down and Hannah is directed to sit next to me. We place our dishes in the middle, waiting to figure out what he’s talking about.

  “Watch,” Wesley says, using his fingers to pick up one of the shrimp I prepared, and he feeds it to his wife. It’s a sweetly sensual moment that I feel a bit voyeuristic watching. He smiles at Alani, then looks at the rest of us. “Just the first bite. Then eat up!”

  I glance at Hannah, who gulps, while Caleb and Cassie seem to chuckle. I guess their cooking got along pretty good.

  I turn to Hannah, and she picks up her plate, smiling at me. There’s a mischievous spark in her eyes, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what she has up her sleeve. “Tuna and halibut ceviche.”

  She takes a chip to scoop up the fish mix she made, feeding it to me. As I bite down, the delicious seasoning assaults my taste buds.

  “Holy shit,” I manage, devouring it. “You’re talented.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah says, letting me feed her the other part of what we made, a lettuce cup with guacamole. There’s a little left on her plump lip afterward, and when her tongue flicks out to lick it off sensuously, I feel a tingle start in the crotch of my shorts. Fuck, I wish this weren’t just a game.

  With the formality of feeding of each other completed, we start dinner. I’m not allowed to eat anything I prepared, but each bite of Hannah’s meal is delicious. I wonder what Caleb and Cassie made, and more importantly if it’s better than our dishes since they seem to be chowing down happily. The more I eat, the more Hannah smiles, and I start to wonder if she’s really enjoying this. I can’t get a read on her.

  “A delicious meal,” Wesley says, getting up and going over to the side table and coming back with a teapot. “Now, a little tea to wash it all down.”

  He pours the tea into cups made of bamboo and brings us all a cup. I toast Hannah, who’s still smiling. Maybe it’s her game face, maybe it’s real, but my heart is speeding up and I feel warm. The tea doesn’t help, and I shift around, realizing that for some reason, I’ve got major fucking wood.

  “Problem, Tony?” Hannah asks innocently as Wesley sips his tea. “Shh, let’s find out who won.”

  “Of course,” Wesley says. “You can guess that the keys for this competition were not just flavor and presentation, but being the cook who best highlighted and respected the natural state of the ingredients. For it is in the natural state . . .”

  I try to listen, but my dick is throbbing so hard I’m forced to adjust myself in my shorts.

  God, I haven’t popped wood this painful since I was going through puberty, I think to myself. I feel like I’m going to explode out of my shorts . . . or fuck, maybe in them, right here at dinner.

  I look over and see Hannah stifle a smirk. Then it hits me. Hannah. She fucking put something in the food.

  “So, Hannah, it was quickly obvious that you are tonight’s winner,” Wesley says. “But don't get overconfident. There’s more tomorrow. You’ll be staying here tonight as my guests. Alani can show you your rooms. We’ll get started first thing in the morning.”

  “What—” Hannah begins to complain but stops short at Wes’s sigh. “Let me guess. You insist?”

  Wesley nods with a tight smile. “Enjoy your evening.”

  He leaves, and Cassie grumbles about having to stay the night, but Alani doesn’t seem to hear her.

  Hannah doesn’t seem as upset. She’s probably still reveling in what she’s done to me. As we get up from our seats to follow Alani out of the room, I reach out and pull Hannah in close. Her eyes go wide as I press myself against her side, letting her feel how hard I am. “What the hell did you put in that food?” I demand.

  She grins and pulls free, going over to her side of the table, where she tosses me a bottle. “Something to give you a little kick. Some people claim it doesn’t work.” She looks down at the huge fucking bulge in my shorts, then back up at me. “Looks like they’re wrong.”

  She walks away with a huge smile on her face as I squint at the label. There’s some Chinese writing, then in small letters underneath, it says Horny Goat Weed.

  Turning my gaze around, I watch as she triumphantly struts down the hall, leaving me wishing I could give her a good dicking until this shit wears off.

  “Fuck, man,” I groan, turning over in my bed, my cock straining against my shorts. It’s been an hour since Alani showed us to our room, and I still have a raging hard-on. “I knew she was up to something.”

  I grit my teeth as another pulse jolts my dick. Those sweet smiles, the way she sucked on my finger. Good God, she was playing me the whole time.

  “Dude, why don’t you just go rub one out?” Caleb says in the single bed across from me. Wes made sure we were accommodated in a small room equipped with two beds. It’s not as nice as our suite back at the hotel, but at least it’s clean with a view of the ocean.

  “Fuck that,” I growl. “Then she would’ve won.” When she needs to be taking care of the situation she caused, maybe on her knees.

  “Well it’s a whole lot better than sitting there groaning for the next however long.” Caleb laughs.

  “You're right,” I say as an idea suddenly occurs to me. “Which is why I’m going to do something about it.”

  I roll out of bed, grab my phone, and head for the door.

  He gives me a look, probably wondering what I’m doing but not wanting to ask as I walk out of the room. The hallway is mostly dark, just pale moonlight illuminating my footsteps as I find a corner, dialing Oliver’s number. I need to give him an update.

  “Hello?” he answers after several rings, sounding groggy.

  “Oli, what are you doing?” I whisper.

  “Trying to sleep. It’s like . . . why the fuck are you whispering?”

  “Listen, I’ve got to tell you something. It’s about this deal.”

  I hear Oliver curse under his breath, and then some fumbling, but moments later, he’s back, sounding clearer. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re not going to believe this shit,” I say before I tell him everything—about Wes, Hannah, and th
e competition. The only thing I leave out is the hard-on raging in my shorts.

  “Hannah?” he asks in disbelief when I finish. “Really? That makes this a little more complicated,” Oliver says.

  “What do you mean, more complicated? What do you want me to do, walk away?” I ask, but even as I say it, I don’t want to. That’ll probably mean I won’t see Hannah again for another year. Besides, she fucked with me, and I want revenge. There’s no way I’m going to let her get away with this.

  “No, we can’t do that,” Oliver says, relieving me. “You said he wants you guys to compete? You can’t help that. Just do what he says. Don’t play dirty. Be fair.”

  Don’t play dirty. Too late for that, I think.

  “Gotcha,” I tell him anyway. “And Oli?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do me a favor. Get me Hannah’s cell number?”

  Oliver sounds confused. “Why do you . . . never mind, hold on. I’m sure Mindy has it around here somewhere.” I hear him go away and come back a moment later.

  He gives me the number, and I repeat it back to him. “Thanks, Bro.”

  I hang up and rush to the bathroom, turning on the lights, and whip out my throbbing dick, getting a good angle for a picture of it. When I’ve got a good shot, I attach a text message. Congrats, you won today. Tomorrow is my turn.

  I hit Send, thinking about how hot she’s going to get when she sees it. I know it’s going to make her pussy wet. I can tell she still wants to fuck me, but I don’t want to go overboard like before and piss her off.

  Just thinking about it causes me to let out a tortured moan. I reach down, wrapping my hand around my shaft. It’s nowhere near as sexy as Hannah’s lips when she sucked on my finger, but my brain fills in the details as I replace my finger with my cock, imagining it sliding between Hannah’s lips, the way her tongue caressed my skin . . . she’d feel so good licking and sucking on my cock.

  I explode, blowing my load all over the shower stall. After I’m done, I rinse the mess down the drain quickly and leave the bathroom with a smile on my face.

  I wish I could see her face when she opens that text.