“I might have to turn up myself. Jake can sing about three songs well, I bet you he'll be straight on that karaoke machine like it's going out of fashion.
I chuckle insincerely at Hillary, though she doesn't suspect anything. I feel like the worse person in the world.
I chew on the cupcake as I leave the store, and it tastes like ashes in my mouth. I've fucked up. Surely I have. Jake just wanted me to try out the forbidden fruit for himself, and I can't blame him. It's exactly what I did.
So why does it leave me so bereft? Why do I have this hole in my stomach, that doesn't go away? It leeches out the appetite. I cross the road at the traffic light junction, eyes scouring the streets, with the wads of chewing gum stuck onto the sidewalks with remnants of plants growing out of the cracks. Parts of the pavement and roads themselves are mismatched colors, with darker, fresher concrete coating the areas, particularly in areas where pipelines are located, and sewer drains.
I look at one manhole for a moment, and think to myself that there's a lot of waste and shit running under this town. But it's easy to dismiss it and pretend it's not there, because we never get to see it so actively. Perhaps in the same way, this is exactly what we do with the bad parts of our lives. We just flush them away, and pretend they never happened. And maybe that's what Jake plans to do, and what I should do.
I just don't know how.
Ten minutes before the place opens, I notice a small crowd gathered outside my establishment. I even gave it a traditional sounding name, the White Hart Inn. I know there's a hunting community in the town, so I did that as a nod to them. There's already about eight people outside. Not bad. I can manage five.
Maybe not twenty. I glance out again after a minute, and the crowd has swelled.
Oh.
By the time I open the bar, welcoming everyone in, I can see we're going to be stretched thin in seating tonight. Luckily, we did go the full hog and have about fifty chairs in the bar, and another twenty outside, as well as some spare fold up chairs that I bought off eBay for like thirty dollars. The crowd immediately begins complimenting the designs, admiring the resin bottle cap counter, the lacquered wood tables, and the soft, friendly lighting of the room, adding that kind of secretive feel to it. I beam proudly. My friends are doing the work, and so is the new boy, and they're handling the crowd fantastically. Barry's the main cook for the barbecue, and the smell of roasting meat and onions wafts enticingly into the establishment, and people are already grabbing plastic plates to seize the delicious food.
Victor's serving drinks with Bryce, and they both have their game faces on, beaming and charming potential patrons. I catch snatches of conversation, and everyone acts admiring, appreciative, and I'm taking any suggestions people offer as well.
With the karaoke up, and Fred running the show here, I watch as people start clamoring up to sing.
My eyes scour the crowd – the establishment is getting close to full, and it's so rewarding to see so many people here – like all my efforts are finally paying off. I probably don't have enough meat to feed everyone here, so I might need to consider popping fast to the shop to grab some more. Barry will tell me if I'm running out, so that's something. I check on all my friends, and they're loving the vibe, giving me thumbs up.
The garden has about ten people sitting around, talking, and Barry's fully into his role as head cook, tending the huge grill, which has enough space to cook several things at once. I think cleaning the thing might be a bitch, though I specifically got one that was supposed to be easy. Coals underneath, grill, and even a way to replace it so I could put a rack of ribs on it and have them churn. We focused on good old hamburgers and sausages today, though. Best not to go too crazy.
Barry takes pride in the way he cooks his meat, though I'm sure the bakers would show him up shamefully. Maybe I can get them to come on an evening at some point and bake for me. I'd like that. It would give me an excuse to see Jake again, maybe even find a way to confront him, since he's been a little distant, even if he still pulls off his smiles. I go and work behind the bar now, as people are lining up by the dozen for drinks, and again, I keep hearing compliments. My eyes then lock on Jake and Hillary, who are directly at the back of my vision on the karaoke stage. She's selecting a song for him, guided by Fred, and Jake is tapping the microphone.
Then, Jake has the audacity to look my way as the song begins, and he starts to sing I'm Too Sexy.
I almost lose concentration when I see him there, singing it surprisingly well – with his eyes following me around the bar.
With Hillary watching.
I feel so violated.
“I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts...”
Fuck him. Seriously. What the fuck is that about? He tells me not to tell anyone? He wants to keep it a secret from Hillary? And then he blatantly tracks me from across the stage, while she can see the whole thing?
Maybe the crowd won't realize anything is awry. But Hillary certainly does, because she's glancing between us. I serve someone else, fuming.
How fucking dare he.
When the song ends, and his clear, baritone voice fades, I have a sudden impulse to speak to him. An urge. I wave him over, since he's looking my way anyway – and point to the back, where we store the alcohol. It's lockable from both sides, and good for a private conversation, or for staff to cool off, as I intend. I prefer to lock my flat so no one ends up drunkenly stumbling into it like they're at a frat party. I tell Bryce and Victor that I had a deal to hash out with the baker, since I was considering using his products, and they seem to accept my thin excuse. A little way behind the counter, I let Jake through.
He's dressed in a blue shirt with the top two buttons undone. His blonde hair is gelled back, giving him a slick look, and in the lighting, his eyes appear a dark blue. But I don't have time to admire his natural beauty. I have time to fume.
Inside the beer room, I lock the door and turn on the light. He appears relaxed, almost lazy. And I'm shaking, furious.
“Fuck you,” I say, my heart hammering fast, my blood pounding. It's making my thoughts race, making me act strange, as if I'm drunk. “What you just did there was uncalled for.”
“What I did?” His lips spread into a wider smile. “All I did was sing.”
“You know fully well that wasn't what you did! You were watching me the whole time you sang, in front of your girlfriend! You think she didn't notice? Because she noticed. Oh fucking hell she noticed! I can't believe you! How dare you do that to me and your girlfriend when you said you didn't want anyone knowing about it, you fucking bastard!” I shake my head, hands balled into fists. “It's not right and you know it.”
Jake's grin turns impish. He steps towards me in the dim light. He could apologize, he could look at me and admit that what he did was wrong, but instead, he says, “You look sexy when you're angry.”
Before I have a chance to respond, I see the glint of hunger in his eyes, and then watch as he lunges for me, forcing me to turn around.
Instantly, I splutter and struggle against his strength. For a baker, he's strong – far stronger than me.
“I know that you want it,” he whispers in my ear. “I know you're angry because you want to feel my dick inside you again, instead of having to hide...”
“I,” I gasp, my mind starting to become spotty. I know I have an argument somewhere, a good one. But it's becoming so hard to think. So hard to want to protest. He's gripped me strongly, he's nibbling at my ear, and I feel his dick hard against his pants.
Oh God.
“You don't need to worry about Hillary. Let me tell you. She knows.”
I instantly don't believe him, but I want him to take me so hard. I've been craving him all this time, disguised under layers of anger and disappointment. It makes me horny beyond imagining having him pawing at me now, when I know there's a crowd of people just outside. Any moment, someone could knock on the door, any of my friends, or the new kid.
; Jake doesn't even bother with ceremony this time. He's brutal in the way he pins me down, but my dick is already hard, and I'm burning for him, aching for him, and it hurts so much. I need this, I need him inside me, I need to give into him and just let everything go. So what if it's wrong. Why does something so wrong feel so good?
I gasp as he tugs harshly at my pants, bringing them down, and he's already probing at my hole. My erection curls right up against my stomach, and my legs twitch, I'm so turned on, I'm so damn hard, I just want him rammed up, causing all my senses to collect into a singular point. One wet finger teases my asshole, then two, but I'm more prepared for it this time. He shoves me forward, before stabilizing me and pushing his hard dick inside me. I have to clamp my teeth hard to make sure I don't howl out, as he buries all the way inside me, then starts to thrust roughly, making my butt cheeks move back and forth to maximize the effect. He's hitting me so hard that I feel his balls slapping against me, and for some reason, that drives me up the wall, and sends all my senses on high alert. Holy shit.
I'm being taken so easily, it's like all the tension since our first sex act never existed. I've gone from zero to one hundred in moments, and it's both painful and pleasurable to have him taking me this way. But no. No!
I feel him hot and wet as he comes inside me, faster than he did before, and a strangled moan leaves his throat. He clutches at my butt cheeks hard, shivering – but no. I'm not done. There's a little fluid coming out of my tip. As he pulls out of me, I turn furiously on him, and force him down to the ground.
“My turn, you bastard,” I snarl, the arousal driving me mad. Jake mumbles something, but I don't catch it – just a glint of his dark, lust filled eyes, a mess of his blonde hair, and I'm now staring at his perfectly curved ass cheeks, and trying not to drool.
I've not done this before, but my dick twitches, craving to be inside him. I spread his legs. He doesn't resist, though I know he has the strength to stop me at any moment. I do what he does – except instead of licking my finger, I decide to use my fluid to smear around his hole. It seems big, which makes me think he's obviously had anal sex before, and he treats his hole well, keeping it clean.
I work around in there, utterly aroused and half in flames from seeing myself do this, since I only ever pictured it before. I'm hungry for this man, and I'll be dammed if he gets to fuck me again without having a chance at it myself. I'm going to have my way with him before we're found out, and no longer able to continue this. I don't want to only ever have to picture it in my dreams.
I want to feel it, taste it, smell it, hear his gasps and have the slap of my balls against him, like I felt with him. I'm furious at myself for wanting this, but not furious enough to stop, because I place my erection against him, and he lets out a gasp, and shivers. More adrenaline courses through me, and my body surges with energy as I slide inside him, feeling that tight warmth around me for the first time. I tilt my head back and groan. I bite my lip hard and clutch at his bare ass, thumping my hips into it. The pressure makes me jolt each time, and I can actually feel when I hit his g-spot, because he sort of gives a little twitch, and an ecstatic whimper.
I'm in control for once. I grin savagely, loving the way he feels so tight around my dick, the way I slid in, the heat that builds up, inside and out. I won't be able to keep this up for long. My heart's already about to pound out of my throat, and my fingers tremble against his skin as the pressure accumulates inside me, building around my balls, hot and angry, wanting to punish him, to make sure I take him out with me.
I groan, suppressing the sound as I come inside him, feeling myself shoot off like sparks, before letting out a long sigh.
Oh, how I dreamed of doing that to him.
And if I'm going to crumble down and burn anyway, I might as well fulfil that fantasy.
Still angry, now with myself, I wipe myself with tissue, and I place my boxers and pants back on. I watch him with cold eyes and a quivering heart as he does the same.
“I'm going to your girlfriend.”
Jake licks his lips. “If you're planning to go to Hillary, then why did you fuck me?” He has that annoying curl back on his lips, the one that seems as if he knows more than I do.
I flush immediately. Because I didn't want to have him leave without having experienced the feel of coming inside him. “It doesn't matter.” I take out tissue and wipe any conspicuous spots, before making sure I look unruffled and calm. Then, my face blank, I unlock the door, and go back out into the busy establishment. Again, my heart leaps to see so many people here, all clearly enjoying what's going on. I see a few drunk people and remember that I'll likely need to hire security at a point, to make sure the drunks don't do stupid shit – and I head straight for Hillary, who has one eyebrow raised as she regards the both of us.
I feel like I'm doing the walk of shame. I'm heading towards her right now. And I know that this will end everything. It really will. All my dreams, they'll stay dreams. As it should be. As it should have been from the start, if I wasn't such a greedy sinner. If I didn't lie to Hillary's face for all that time, just by omitting the truth in my words.
“I need to speak you to,” I tell her, and gently tug her to follow me outside into the garden, where it's now a little quieter, because the night has grown chillier.
When we're sat opposite one another, I start to flush again, because I'm certain she can smell the sex emanating off me. She appears attentive, her brown eyes alert. She's questioning what I want to say – and out of the corner of my eye, I see Jake there as well, and feel an irrational surge of anger. He shouldn't be anywhere near – even if he's unlikely to hear the conversation. Imagine her despair when her boyfriend watches as I break the news.
How to start? “I'm sorry,” I say, “but I've not been a friend to you.” My hands hover nervously over the wooden table, before my fingers tease through a gap. I cross my lower legs together, as if being defensive.
“Why are you sorry?” Again, she arches that eyebrow, and now exchanges a look with Jake. It irritates me that he just shrugs.
“I've, um... me and Jake... we...” Fuck, why is it so hard? My cheeks burn crimson, struggling to contain my embarrassment, though it will be nothing to the humiliation she'll feel.
She waits for me to finish, her eyes wide, her expression perhaps a little too innocent.
“We um, we had sex. Behind your back. Twice,” I add, before slumping face in my palms. “I know I shouldn't have, and I'm so sorry. I'm a shit person.”
Am I sorry? Because a voice whispers to me that I'd do it a third time, if I could. If I thought I could feasibly get away with it.
Hillary stares at me for a moment longer, still wearing that all-too-innocent expression. Then, to my bafflement, she bursts out laughing.
As she laughs in my face, I just blink like an idiot, and feel even more embarrassed, because I have no idea why she's laughing. I just told her news that should make her sob, cry, try to poke my eyeballs out.
And instead, she laughs. “Didn't he already tell you? I know. I know what's happening.”
I blink, then I gape. “What? You did?” What the hell?
“He didn't believe me,” Jake adds. He's now close enough to listen, and I jump, seeing him there.
“Would that be because you were fucking him at the time?” Hillary sounds wry as she says this.
I'm completely speechless. My mind's imploded, and I have no idea how to process the information currently assaulting me. At all.
“Maybe.” Jake grins, and Hillary waves her hand at him.
“Trust me, Andrew, I knew from the start that Jake wanted you. How could he not? You're a hottie. And he told me about the first time you had sex. I kind of assumed you already knew what was going on.”
“Ah... I didn't really tell him,” Jake confesses, looking sheepish.
“Which makes you a dick,” Hillary replies, scowling.
“But... but he told me not to tell anyone...” I stammer, still struggling to compreh
end what's happening. He told me not to tell anyone. He wanted to keep his secret, and I assumed it was to keep it from Hillary. I'm so confused right now.
He wasn't lying. Hillary really did know. But then, why didn't he say anything about it before? Why didn't he mention that Hillary knew? Unless he was trying to test me. See if he could trust me.
Would he do that?
“That was important for him to say,” Hillary begins, making sure I'm focusing on her, and not just panicking out of my skull. “I know everything, obviously, but the others in Jake's life don't know a thing. And there's a good reason for it. His folks... they're not the most open-minded folks you'll encounter. He grew up listening to them gay bash his entire life, so you can imagine it won't go down well at any family reunions.”
Jake grimaces at this, confirming her words. “It's true. Nobody in the town knows I'm gay. Neither do my parents, nor do I intend to ever tell them.”
To Love A Hitman Page 29