How can this man say he doesn’t have fashion sense? I want to eat him up.
It takes real inner strength to make my eyes travel back up to his face, and once there, the fierce gaze he is directing my way ensnares me. It’s as if me in my blue jeans and purple button-down is anywhere near the level he is at. Add in my half-apron, which he thankfully can’t see from behind the bar, and I look like a complete frump.
“You came,” I say lamely as he approaches.
He raises his eyebrow at my wording while sitting his ass down at the end corner where he has the perfect view of the restaurant. It’s a little drafty in that area, and most customers avoid it, but Harvey sits there like he owns it. I know I will forever think of that corner as his.
“Not yet. What time do you get off?” he questions, his tone seeming more frustrated than polite, making me think he’s angry.
“Depends on what time you get me off,” I state boldly, hoping my flirting lightens his mood. Instead, it seems to darken it.
Have I read this wrong?
“Nix, I’ve had a fucking hard-on since three this afternoon. What. Time. Do. You. Get. Off?” he demands, making my breath catch.
I gave this man an almost six-hour hard-on? Is that even healthy?
“Probably not until midnight. Maybe earlier if they”—I nod at the six large tables laughing boisterously and making a racket—“finish up sooner.”
There are only a handful of other couples and foursomes around. I think, with how loud the big tables are, they will finish soon.
The kitchen shuts down at ten, but the bar remains open until eleven. If the night is busy, I sometimes extend both times to later, but that only happens on Friday and Saturday nights and usually in the summer.
“Fuck!” he groans, mussing up his hair as he rubs his hands through it before it falls back into his eyes.
“You’ll feel better with a beer and some grub in you,” I say unhelpfully. No, he won’t. “What can I get for you?”
“A fucking handjob in your office,” he blurts out.
I know he doesn’t mean it, but, well, he does, just not in a serious way.
My mind runs with it as I picture just that and more.
“Short of that, whatever ale is on tap and whatever you recommend for food. I eat anything.”
I glance around the restaurant again, seeing Lola seems to have the floor covered. She is my night Scarlett. Between them, they are my most reliable girls.
I then gaze over the tables, seeing everyone has their orders, seeming happy and satisfied, before my eyes land back on Harvey, who is giving me a confused gaze.
“How do you like your steak?” I ask, waving him over as I move out from behind the bar, placing my apron on the counter.
He hesitantly follows me, before speeding up when he realizes where I’m heading.
“Medium rare.”
“Back in five, Lola!” I call out, ducking down the hallway before she sees my guilty as fuck face.
Along the way, I poke my head into the kitchen and see the chefs are standing around, chatting while getting some of the cleaning done since we are winding down. I call out an order for both me and Harvey since I haven’t eaten yet. Then, once I see Holly acknowledge it, I duck back out and grab Harvey’s hand.
“You know I didn’t mean what I said before. You don’t have to—”
I close the office door behind us, locking it like I should have done earlier today, then swing around to face him. “I know, but I’ve been thinking about doing this since this afternoon, and I can’t wait until tonight,” I admit, feeling no shame as I shove my hands through his hair and pull him down for a kiss, loving when it takes him a whole two seconds to take over, pushing me back against the door as he consumes me.
I don’t have time to fall into his kiss like I did before, though it’s tempting as hell. This man knows how to kiss.
I try to keep my wits as I undo his belt and button, and then carefully pull down his fly, all while his lips continue to distract me.
His cock basically springs into my hands, his briefs unable to hold him in. I groan into his mouth when I feel his hot cock through the material.
Pushing down his jeans that pool at his feet, I move my hand into his briefs, wrapping it fully around his cock, working him over a couple times. He’s already got pre-come at his slit, and I use it to glide my hand faster. Now I have a new idea in mind.
I pull away from the kiss, knocking my head against the door and barely feeling a thing as I turn Harvey around, shoving him back against the door before I drop to my knees.
“Oh, fuck!” he moans.
I yank down his briefs and feast my eyes over his cock. Cut, hard, and pulsing under my gaze, I give myself a moment to think about him pumping this into me before I lick off his come, finding him as irresistible as the rest of him. Then I suck him into my mouth.
As I figured he would, he soon takes over, fucking my mouth with the sexist groans I have ever heard. He maintains a grip on my hair, pulling tightly enough for a bite of pain to ratchet up my adrenaline as he pumps his hips in and out of my mouth.
I hollow my cheeks, sucking him deeply, as I use one hand to fondle his balls and my other hand to fumble with my own fly.
Unable to stop myself, I pop my mouth off him, pump my hand over his cock, working him over, as well as wetting my hand, before I remove it to shove it down my own pants. Then I suck back over his cock without missing a beat.
It’s a tight fit, but I don’t have the concentration or the patience to get myself properly free of my pants. Giving myself a slapdash handjob doesn’t detract from the fact that I’m close to coming.
The forbidden aspect of being in my office, close to my workers and a restaurant full of patrons, rides me to the point where I’m basically panting for Harvey’s dick, and for both of our releases.
His moans are music to my ears, and when I lean forward to suck his balls into my mouth, my name on his lips like a prayer, it’s enough for me to begin shooting in my pants.
I shift back to his dick while he pistons his hips even faster.
“Fuck … Gonna … Nix … I need … It’s … Fuck!” Harvey pants, his control spiraling out of control.
My abused lips suction harder over him, feeling the tension building inside him. He’s about to blow.
“Nix … so fucking … hot … I’m … I-I’m …” Harvey stutters, and then he lets loose.
I seal my lips around him, looking up to see him ride out his orgasm as he spills down my throat, a look so flipping hot on his face that I let out one final jet of come off in my boxers.
Shoddy handjob or not, I’m certain just the look of Harvey coming would have been enough to get me off. There is just something so irresistible about seeing him let go completely. An expression so peaceful, so fulfilled touching his expression that it feels like a secret I have been let in on. A prize that is rarely allowed to be seen by others.
His hips begin to slow, his body shuddering under my touch, and then he finally rests against the door, his body sagging. He gazes down at me, one side of his mouth pulled upward in the cockiest smile I have ever seen.
“I think I fucking love your mouth,” he tells me, removing his hand from my hair to caress my jaw.
“Well, your mouth is magic, so it’s only fair mine is, too,” I tell him, sitting back on my heels and wincing at how soaked my underwear is. Luckily, I keep spare clothes in my office.
I stand, but before I can step back, Harvey grips my shirt, brings me flat against him, and kisses me senseless again, no shyness about the fact that his pants and briefs are still around his ankles, or over his softening cock between us.
When he pulls back, I’m dazed and positive I have a goofy smile over my sore lips.
“I can’t wait to have this tonight,” he says on an exhale as he reaches around and grabs my ass.
“I look forward to it,” I tell him honestly, wondering if this small taste has just made things worse.
Time is already going slow enough. I took the edge off for Harvey, but I’m already starting to get hard again.
I step away to grab new boxer briefs and discreetly tuck away my now dirty ones in the back corner of my drawer before I change in front of him.
His eyes never move away from me, his heated gaze doing little to help me from getting hard again.
“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs.
I smile as I button up my pants then sit down to retie my shoelaces. “Speak for yourself. I was ready to eat you as soon as you stepped foot in the restaurant. Whatever happens tonight, I want you wearing that jacket when you fuck me.”
His eyes light up again. I know he’s torn between leaving this alone for now, or fucking me somewhere in this office. His eyes even fall to my desk, and I shiver at just the idea of being fucked against it. But I have a restaurant to run and have already shirked my duties enough for tonight.
“Another time,” I promise.
After making sure I don’t look like I just fucked Harvey with my mouth, I flatten down my hair then make my way back out into the bar.
I’m paranoid for a few moments, thinking what we just did is obvious, or perhaps we weren’t as quiet as I hoped, but no one looks twice at us. If Scarlett was working, her eagle eyes would have been on me the second I came out of the office. Lola, however, is chatting happily away to one of the tables, rather oblivious to these things.
She’s a hard worker, good with customers, and couldn’t care less about me or my personal life. Whereas Scarlett makes it her business to be all up in my business. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lola isn’t even aware I am gay.
I grab my apron and wrap it around me just as another waitress, Vera, hands me a slip with her drink order.
I pour Harvey his ale, passing it to him and smiling when our fingers purposely touch, before I get back to work.
A few minutes later, our food arrives. I attempt to eat with Harvey while being continuously interrupted to get more drinks. Luckily, no one sits at the bar, so I have him all to myself.
He doesn’t chat much about himself, but I learn he’s a Chicago native, is not at all close to his family, and he talks warmly of the people he works with. Although, he does good-naturedly say a woman named Sasha is a pain in his ass. He also gets me to open up about my own life. And I find out we have a joint interest in baseball, we both love dogs, and he is actually quite funny.
Spending most of my time behind a bar means I get the odd barfly who wants to chat. I’m a good listener and like having a chat with someone, though it doesn’t happen much at the restaurant.
Harvey has a knack for making someone talk with ease. I think it’s because he has this natural way of waiting you out. Instead of it coming across as impatient or stubborn, it feels genuine, like he really takes the time to consider his answer.
It may not be a proper date, and what we did in my office earlier could give the impression that this is purely sexual between us, yet we talk for hours as the restaurant winds down. We share a meal, several laughs, and by the time the last customer walks out, I feel as though I know Harvey much better.
Once the last table is wiped down, the registers locked away, and the lights are all off, I’m surprised by how quickly the final two and a half hours went by. We even manage to close up half an hour early, which is a win since I’m fucking horny again.
Harvey stays through it all, even helping turn over chairs and grabbing a few stray glasses.
This time, Lola does give me a few curious looks, but no one complains about the extra help. Soon, Harvey and I are then left alone.
“How much do I owe you for the food and drink?” he asks, putting his leather jacket back on.
I pause for a moment in appreciation.
Oh, yes. He is definitely fucking me in that jacket.
“My treat, remember?”
“I’m fairly certain you thanked me for saving your life earlier,” he says with a smirk, the simmer of attraction between us flaring back up.
“And I’m sure you’ll thank me for your meal later. Now, come on.”
I turn off the last of the lights, check that the front door is locked, and then Harvey pulls me in for a kiss, right in the middle of the restaurant and in full view of any passersby.
“What was that for?” I ask breathlessly when he steps back, breaking our kiss and leaving me wanting more.
“A tease of what’s to come. You live far from here?” he asks, looking unfairly unaffected.
Bastard.
I lead us out the back, key in the code, and once the back door is locked, I turn around to face Harvey, shivering from the chilly air enveloping us. “I live not even five minutes from here. You park close?” I murmur as I tighten my scarf around me, wondering if his car is going to be okay for the night.
“Took the bus,” he tells me as he grabs my hand and pulls me close enough to lean in for another kiss. “Lead the way before I bend you over and have my way,” Harvey mutters, reaching around to grab my ass. Again, I question why this is a bad thing.
With a smack to my butt, I am jolted forward.
I try to push away the lust pushing me to make bad decisions. We are minutes away from my place and a bed; I need to get a grip. I’m thirty, not a freaking teenager. Where has my self-control gone?
As the bitter wind whips at us, Harvey gathers close to my side, wrapping his arm around me. My coat does a piss-poor job of keeping the cold out, but Harvey is keeping me hot. He doesn’t wear gloves, but I do, as well as my ratty orange scarf and a too bright yellow beanie.
Maybe my mother wasn’t far off when she said I had no fashion sense. Though, I think of it more as just not giving a fuck.
“You sure this is the best way?” Harvey asks, gazing around briefly before his eyes fall back on me.
“It’s quicker going around the back,” I mutter over my shivers, my shoes sinking into the gathered snow that has yet to be salted. I forgot to change into my boots.
Harvey and I will need a shower to warm up before we make it to my bed, not that we can’t have a little fun in the shower first.
“It’s dark out here,” he grumbles.
I feel a little warmer hearing the concern in his voice.
“I make sure all the workers leave in groups. No one is allowed to walk out here alone, and we have an open group chat where everyone writes in once they get home safely,” I assure him, never having a problem in the four years I have had this restaurant. Everyone knows my rules. Even the lunch staff adhere to them.
“How about you?” he asks, tightening his arm around my shoulders.
“I sometimes leave with the others, but …” I give a small shrug. “I only live around the corner,” I finally explain.
I understand why Harvey is bringing this up since he’s all about protection and noticing dangers, but what I don’t expect is that the one night I walk home with Harvey is also the night we are jumped.
Hands grip us both, separating us as three dark shapes surround us. I barely see a thing before a foot connects with my knee and I lose my balance. Then I’m kicked in the chest, losing my breath, only to then be hit in the face hard enough to see stars.
I try to think through my panic, my body shaking as I hold up my hands to protect my face from the next hit, but it doesn’t help when I’m dragged backward and thrown into a wall.
My back hits the hard surface before I collapse. The snow soaks into my clothes as I feel a surge of anger rush through me.
I leap to my feet and clock the guy who threw me. He clearly isn’t expecting it and is furious when I make contact. However, he is built like a tank, and though I do knock his face to the side, his actual body doesn’t move an inch. My hand, marginally protected by my glove, aches from the impact.
I gulp, feeling way over my head, and spare a glance to Harvey, who seems to be holding his own better than I am, fighting two men.
The next second, I’m shoved back against the wall, a hand over my throa
t. He isn’t holding me tight enough to choke me, just forcing me to stay in place.
I kick the guy in the shins, attempting to knee his groin, but he leans back. Then something sharp scrapes my cheek, and I freeze.
“What do you want?” I wheeze out, still struggling to breathe after the hit to the chest. “My wallet is in my pocket,” I offer, dread building inside me when I consider this is a mugging.
“I’m not after your money,” the man snarls, his face in shadows.
“What do you want, then?”
“See your boyfriend over there?” he asks, leaning back so I see Harvey on the ground, one man holding him down while another punches him in the gut.
“Let him go!” I shout, fearful because he’s no longer fighting.
“He had a hit out on him—a hundred large for anyone who could kill him—but that disappeared a few hours ago,” he explains while I struggle to follow. “Mr. Conway wiped the hit off. But he wanted you to see how easy it is to get to you both. He wanted you to see how simple it would be for me to take this knife”—he drags the sharp edge across my cheek, cutting me and causing warm liquid to spill down my face—“and shove it through his heart.”
“No,” I beg, to which he laughs like he finds this conversation amusing.
“Don’t worry, little fairy; your boyfriend isn’t dead … yet.” His voice turns sharp.
I hold my breath, waiting to hear what the condition is, because I know there is going to be one.
“Mr. Conway is going to call you soon. Make sure you answer it.” With that, he pushes off me, and I collapse back down to my ass. He whistles at the other two men, and they step away from Harvey, who immediately curls into a ball, groaning. Then they all sprint out of the parking lot and out of sight as I try to get my shit together.
My mind racing over what just happened, I’m shaking like a leaf as I stumble my way over to Harvey, needing to make sure he’s okay.
This is the second time in two nights that both Harvey and I nearly died.
“You … okay?” Harvey wheezes out.
I reach out for him but don’t make contact. It’s too dark to see where he could be hurt and I don’t want to add to his pain.
I Broke Into His Office (Love at First Crime Book 4) Page 4