“God, Trev.”
Tyler’s whimpers went straight to my own cock, and I had to fight off the urge to reach down and start stroking myself. Right now was about Tyler. I’d take care of myself later.
“Tell me what you want, Tyler. I need to hear it. Do you want to wrap your hand around your cock and pump it yourself? Or, do you want me to slide my mouth so far down your cock so you will feel every hum and swallow I make?”
Slowly, the embarrassment left his eyes. In its wake was nothing short of desire and need. He opened his mouth to answer, his voice only slightly cracking.
“I want you to suck me.”
Silently crowing in triumph, I took the entire length in my mouth, savoring the musky taste of him as I slowly slid my lips down the length of his shaft. Tyler found my rhythm, and soon he was thrusting inside my mouth each time I slid up and down his cock. I slid my hand lower, grazing his balls with my knuckles, but didn’t stop until my finger was poised over the entrance just behind them. Ever so slowly, I circled his hole, not pushing, but not retreating. When his hips came off the bed with a strangled whimper, I pulled back until he relaxed.
“Tell me what you want. Talk to me, Tyler.”
I could see him war with himself over voicing his own needs, but when I kept my lips away from his straining body, his need won out.
“I want to touch you.”
My own cock was throbbing as Tyler writhed under me, his hands exploring every inch of skin he could reach. I swirled my tongue one last time around his glans, then scooted back up the bed and slanted my mouth over his. Tyler cupped my ass to pull me down harder on top of him, and we both groaned as we ground against each other. It felt amazing, but it was nothing compared to when Tyler’s fingers trailed up and down the cleft of my ass. I rolled my body off his and lay on my back, spreading my legs wide in invitation.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Trev.”
Goose bumps broke out over my chest and arms, as much from his words as from his lips as they trailed over my collarbone. I lost the battle to keep my eyes open and let them drift closed as Tyler grew bolder. One hand flicked and rubbed my nipple, while the other hand glided down my chest and abs.
“You asked what I wanted. This,” he said, moving his hand lower, “is what I want.”
Before I could even process what was happening, Tyler’s palm was wrapped around the head of my dick. Each twist of his wrist sent me higher and higher, until all I could think about was being inside him.
Using every ounce of restraint I had, I pulled him back up my body and plundered his mouth with my tongue. We lay like that for a few minutes, never breaking the kiss as our hands roamed over each other’s bodies. When we broke to catch our breaths, I watched his face, looking for anything to tell me this was a mistake. Anything to let me know we’d gone too far and we needed to put the brakes on.
He stared back, apparently searching for an answer of his own. After a minute, he seemed to find it, and rolled over to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. He passed me a small bottle of lube and a condom. Even in the dim bedroom, I could see the blush blooming on his face.
“They give these out free at the shelter. Well, not the lube. Just the condoms. The lube I bought. At the store. Fuck. Just kill me now, okay?”
I took the items from him and silenced him with a kiss. When I felt him relax again, I pulled back and smiled. “Every guy has lube at his place. Every single one. Anyone who tells you differently is just too embarrassed to admit it. Never be ashamed of your body or enjoying what feels good.”
He nodded, but my own doubt over what we were doing reared its head again. The question wasn’t whether sex was on the table. The lube and condom in my hand had answered that. No, the question was: Should we? I wanted to, God knew I wanted to, but a stronger part of me wanted to wait. No matter what he’d said, we needed to figure where this was all going before we took this next step.
Decision made, I tossed the condom back on the nightstand and flipped the cap on the lube. Tyler’s eyes went wide as he looked from the condom back to me. “I know using condoms sucks, but I don’t think we should risk it.”
Reaching down with my slick hand, I slowly began to pump his now-flagging erection. “Condoms do suck, but they’re necessary. We don’t need one, though, because we’re not going to risk anything.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to.”
I settled between his legs and braced myself above him on one arm. “Trust me, I want to. More than you know. But I think we should wait a little longer.
I could tell he wanted to say more, but the moment my cock brushed his, his eyes closed and all he could get out was, “Oh my God.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t even known I was holding. “My thoughts exactly.”
Tyler’s eyes closed as I wrapped my hand around both of us and stroked our cocks together. I wanted to close my eyes, but watching Tyler was worth the struggle. He moaned when I stroked from base to tip, but he arched his back and bit his lower lip whenever my fingers brushed over his balls. He tried to stay still, but soon, Tyler’s hips rocked with the motion as his breathing deepened and caught.
“Breathe, Tyler.”
“Trying.”
I changed the motion of my hand, enjoying how he froze for a second and shuddered. I licked my lips, which were suddenly dry. My cock ached in my hand. Going this slow was killing me, but I’d be damned if I didn’t make this amazing for him.
“Good?”
“Mmm-hmm, but so close.” He gasped, his hips bucking, and I grinned. I stroked us both together, searching for a rhythm that would bring us both over the edge. I wanted to speed up, but the thought of this being over too soon kept me from rushing it. I bit my lip in concentration as our hips rocked together.
“So good, Tyler. You feel so fucking good.”
His fingers burrowed into my hair, tugging as I pulled back far enough to glance between our bodies, slick with sweat and lube.
“Watch. I want you to see how fucking amazing we look together.”
His unfocused gaze followed the motion of my hand around our cocks, the slick sound of the lube and pre-come, was sexier than anything else I’d ever heard. I tightened my grip, moving my hand faster as my own breathing grew ragged. We ground together sloppily, all semblance of a rhythm gone. All I could think about was making Tyler come, watching him lose all control.
He gasped as he pulled my head down for a desperate kiss.
I twisted my hand, squeezing firmly as I felt my balls tighten. I barely caught Tyler’s eyes roll back before I slammed my eyes closed, the effort of holding back almost painful. He gasped again as his cock twitched in my hand, covering us both with come.
His teeth snagged on my bottom lip, tugging sharply just a moment, and that was all it took to push me over the edge with him. I buried my face in his neck until the last of the spasms racked my body, then collapsed on top of him. A low moan escaped my lips when he began to rub small circles at the base of my spine. At this point, I was usually out the door faster than I could get my clothes on. Right now, I couldn’t fathom being five feet from Tyler, let alone two thousand miles away.
“Shit.”
Tyler rolled out from under me and jumped out of the bed.
“Um, Tyler? Is there something I’m missing here?” Tyler was shoving his clothes back on. What in the fuck was going on?
Tyler paused in his haste to throw on his clothes. “The pizza. Can’t you smell it burning?”
I tried hard not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it when he dashed out of the bedroom. A trail of highly colorful words filtered into the bedroom from the kitchen a few seconds later. Taking my time, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and cleaned off the best I could before slipping my briefs and jeans back on. When I walked into the kitchen a few minut
es later, Tyler was staring down at the sorriest excuse for pizza I’d ever seen in my life.
“Yeah, this is why I don’t eat pizza outside the state of New York.”
Tyler shot me a glare, then scrubbed his hand over his face. “You’d think I’d be better at this after all the time I’ve spent in the restaurant business.”
He was so dejected and so fucking cute, I couldn’t stop myself from walking over and pulling him into my arms. “Trust me when I say, after what just happened in your bedroom, I honestly couldn’t care less about the pizza.”
Tyler buried his face in my neck and said, “You’re just saying that to be a nice guy.”
I chuckled and placed a kiss on his head. “I’m not a nice guy, and I’m telling the truth. I’d be completely okay with starving if it meant spending more time in your bed.”
I could feel some of the tension bleed out from Tyler’s shoulders, but he kept his face hidden against my neck. “How about on my futon?”
“There, too. And the shower, and the table.” I paused. “Well, no. Not the table. But maybe my rental car.”
Tyler raised his head. “No table, but I’m good with the rest of your list.”
As I brushed my lips over his, I wondered how I’d let this twenty-year-old sous-chef sneak up on me like this. The more time I spent with him, the more of him I wanted.
We both had busy days tomorrow, but instead of getting my shit together and leaving, I pulled him closer and buried my face deep into the crook of his neck. I needed to leave, but I was even more afraid to stay, and find some way to fuck this up. I didn’t want any labels we put on this to somehow ruin this perfect moment. More than anything, I was afraid that if I stayed, I’d never want to leave.
Chapter Nineteen
Trevor
Saturday Morning
“Next week, I’ve got you scheduled for two morning appearances, Good Morning, Seattle and Wake Up, Northwest.”
“Wow. My mom is going to flip.” Natalie grinned at me as she tied her apron around her waist. She and her sous-chef had almost finished their prep for the charity brunch Chef Boulanger had arranged.
I nudged Natalie. “Are you ready to be a star, Nat?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her and she cackled.
“Turning it on a bit thick now, Mr. Manager.”
“That’s what you pay me the big bucks for.”
“I haven’t paid you yet.”
“You will, when your face is all over FoodTV.”
The look of pride on her face was so incredible to see. It was so fucking refreshing to work with someone who was eager but still green enough to appreciate the wonder of the entertainment business. Jamie had been excited at first, but when the novelty had worn off it had been just another paycheck to him. I looked over her station and asked, “You’re set with everything, right?”
Natalie rolled her eyes as she and her sous-chef moved in the controlled anarchy that existed in all commercial kitchens. She gestured with her knife as she chopped and diced veggies. “Yes, Dad. I know you’re my manager, but I promise I’ve got this.”
“I resent that. I’m not nearly old enough to be your dad.”
She eyed me up and down and snorted. “I’ll take your word on that. But, I’ve got it, Trevor. You sent me the rundown last week, then prepped me on the phone. Now you’re just hovering.”
“You pay me a percentage to hover.”
She smirked. “Too much.”
“Not enough,” I countered.
Just then, the kitchen doors swung open and a waiter in the school’s uniform of black shirt and black pants pushed through. I stared in shock at the one person I’d been jonesing to see again since I left his place last night.
“Hey, Tyler. Loving the ‘men in black’ look,” Natalie teased when he was almost to her prep station.
The second he scanned her station, taking in her sous-chef, and then me, his smile faltered.
He turned back to Natalie, his smile forced this time. “Thanks. I’m more comfortable in my chef whites, but Chef Kitterick is pretty strict when it comes to the dress code of his waitstaff.”
Waiter? Not sous-chef? When had Tyler started working at the school as a waiter? And how in the hell did he even find time to wait tables between his classes, and his job—the one I actually knew about—and volunteering? We’d been together for hours last night, and not once did the subject of ‘Oh, hey, Trev. I need to tell you something. Remember when I said I was kind of busy this weekend? Yeah, about that. See, I’m waiting tables this weekend at the school’s restaurant.’ Maybe I had misread things, but admitting you were working as a waiter was a helluva lot easier to tell someone than anything else we’d talked about last night. And from the look on his face, this wasn’t just an ‘Oops, it slipped my mind’ thing. It was an ‘Oh, shit. I fucking got caught’ thing.
As quickly as the anger came, so did the memory of the night I’d taken him to Canlis. The shame and embarrassment in his eyes when he told me how the dinner had made him feel. I closed my eyes and cursed myself when it all clicked. Here I was, in my dress pants and sport coat, gloating over my newest client, who was all set to wow everyone with her culinary skills. And there was Tyler, in his waiter’s outfit, ready to serve an entire room of people who had no clue he was a talented and more-than-capable sous-chef.
None of it mattered. Not our clothing, our jobs or the perceived differences between us. At least, not to me. But one look at Tyler told me it mattered to him. This was something we’d have to talk about later, but for now, I’d respect the fact we were both at work, and even though I wanted nothing more than to kiss the hell out of him, I wouldn’t make a scene that could jeopardize his job. As much as it sucked, for today, Tyler was just another waiter. An incredibly hot waiter. Not wanting to be a total dick, I leaned against Natalie’s station and smiled my best “I’m just a friend and not the guy who’s mentally undressing you” smile.
“Hey, Tyler. How are things at Bistro 30?”
The shock and confusion on Tyler’s face sucker punched me, but I knew it would be better this way, especially since Natalie wasn’t the only one who had taken a keen interest in our conversation. I flicked my gaze over to the nosy sous-chef at the station next to Natalie, smirking when his eyes widened at being caught snooping and he immediately refocused his attention back on the strawberries he was destemming.
“The restaurant is good. It’s all good.”
“Good.” Fucking hell. Could I possibly come up with a lamer response? I was about to cave in and pull him off to the side to apologize when a loud, grating voice interrupted us.
“Tyler, I’m not paying you to stand around and chat up our guests. Get your ass out on the floor and make sure your station is ready to go.”
I turned to tell the chef in charge to go to hell, but Tyler subtly shook his head at me and moved away from Nat’s station.
“On it, Chef.”
The swinging doors closed behind him, leaving me even more confused and more than slightly pissed-off. Natalie, thank fucking God, saved me.
“Kitterick, has anyone complimented you on your bedside manner lately?”
The chef sauntered over to Natalie’s station and smirked. “Nope.”
Kitterick, that’s who the chef was. I vaguely remembered him from the last time I was in this kitchen. Granted I’d been a little distracted by what was going on with Ethan and Jamie, but I didn’t remember him being such a grade-A dick.
Natalie snorted, her focus never wavering from her station. “Well, someone should have, because they suck.”
I wanted to pump my fist in the air, but instead I beamed at my newest client.
“Turner, you of all people know you have to keep your serving crew tight. One sloppy waiter can fuck up even the best dishes a kitchen can produce.”
&
nbsp; “And yet, we all know Tyler is not just some sloppy waiter. He’s an experienced sous-chef for a highly rated local restaurant. Most chefs would kill to have someone like that waiting tables,” I barely managed to ground out instead of telling Kitterick to bite me.
Suddenly, both Kitterick’s and Natalie’s eyes were on me. Nat tilted her head to the side, obviously trying to figure out the missing piece of the puzzle. Kitterick, on the other hand, looked like he couldn’t have cared less whether Tyler was a five-star chef or a backroom dishwasher.
“I know who he is and what he’s capable of, Mr.—?”
“Pratt.” You fucking prick.
“Mr. Pratt. Regardless of his skills as a sous-chef, he signed up for a shift as a server. And honestly, the mark of a good chef is one who knows what it takes to make the customers happy on the floor and not just with the food.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Natalie’s hand on my forearm stopped me. As much as I wanted to rip him a new one, he was right. Just the thought of anyone treating Tyler like that made me see red. Even more frustrating, though, was the knowledge I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“Ah, Chef Kitterick, I think Chef Lindt would like a word with you.” Saved by the motherfucking Boulanger.
As if nothing had happened, Kitterick moved over to the far prep station, where the chef in question looked more than a little harried.
“Monsieur Pratt, would you care to join me for brunch? I assume you’ve already sampled Mlle Turner’s cuisine before, but I missed that opportunity the last time she was here. Peut-être you’d be willing to keep an old chef company while he experiences it for the first time?”
Natalie winked at Chef Boulanger. “Trevor prefers the cuisine of a completely different type of chef, but I think he’d be able to stomach my Nutella paninis and eggs Benedict.”
I shot Nat a look, then took a deep breath and smiled at Chef Boulanger. “I’d love to, Chef.”
In the Distance Page 17