by Lane Hayes
“Ride me, Jay,” he growled.
Damn. I closed my eyes and leaned back into him, forcing him to support my weight while I did as he commanded. I wrapped my right hand around my cock knowing I was close to losing it, when again he smacked it away. I smacked back at his thigh and heard his rumble of laughter reverberate through his chest in amusement.
“Let me do it, honey.”
Peter wrapped a strong hand around my member and stroked me firmly, his hips steadily pounding my ass in perfect rhythm. I felt my orgasm approach like a freight train, the strength and power of it throwing my body into spasms of pleasure. I rode out wave after wave until I was literally wilted against my lover’s chest. Peter kissed my neck and massaged my shoulders repeatedly. Then he pushed me gently forward, his cock still rock hard inside me, demanding its own release. I lay flat on my stomach and arched my ass slightly in invitation. Peter’s muscular arms caged my head as he moved inside me taking what he needed. His hips slammed into me mercilessly until his body stiffened and his arms collapsed, folding me in a fierce embrace as orgasm claimed him.
He lay on top of me motionless for a full minute before oxygen deprivation became an issue and I was forced to alert him. He shifted his weight up on his arms and ever so gently unattached himself from me, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. I mustered up the strength to peek over at my bed partner lying beside me. Peter ran his hand through his hair, his gaze fixed skyward lost in thought. I hoped he didn’t regret what we’d done. I knew I didn’t.
“What are you thinking?” I’m not good with uncertainty. If he wanted out, then I didn’t want a prolonged, weird exchange.
Peter turned his head toward me and smiled, his eyes bright with humor.
“You like to talk, don’t you?”
“I guess. I was wondering if you’re okay. That’s all.”
His grin faded, and I had a moment of dread. Great. Here’s where it gets uncomfortable, I thought.
“Come here.”
Peter leaned over me and kissed my nose sweetly before gathering my six-foot-three frame to his body, forcing my head down on his chest. I poked my head up to look at him from that somewhat awkward angle. The grin was back and his eyes were twinkling. I smiled in return and laid my head back down on his chest, relishing the feel of his fingers in my hair and the steady beat of his heart at my cheek.
A FLASH of lightning followed closely by a loud rumble of thunder startled me awake a short while later. My head was still plastered to my lover’s broad chest as my eyes shot open. A short nap may have delayed the awkward, but it still had to be dealt with. This may have been a one-time experience, but unlike my night with Justin, I was going to have to see Peter again. At work, no less. I mentally berated myself for succumbing to temptation. I would surely pay for this one way or another. It had been amazing but we’d both made it clear that this was something we needed to get out of our systems. One time or one night. I wasn’t clear on that, but either way, I felt unsure and maybe a little cheated somehow.
“You awake?” Peter asked as he ran his big hands over my back in a sweetly soothing gesture.
“Mm hm.” I lifted my head and peeked up at him.
“Sounds stormy out there.”
“Yeah.” Talk about the weather. Good idea. It was always a safe topic.
“What’s going on in your head? I get the impression that it’s better when you talk. You look like you’re thinking way too hard.” His voice was light with humor, but it was uncanny how correct he was. I was dangerous when my mind was left to wander aimlessly.
“I was thinking about food,” I lied. “Are you hungry?”
Peter didn’t answer. Maybe he was trying to figure out the best way out of my house without being unkind. Or maybe he was going to humor me and….
“Yes, I’m a little hungry. I would suggest going out for something, but it doesn’t sound very inviting out there.”
“Well, lucky for you I had just come from the market before you arrived and was going to make myself a little something. There’s plenty for two. Come on.”
I playfully leaned on his thigh as I rose from the bed. I decided to play this casually. That was what he wanted. If I stuck to a safe subject like food, I could pull it off and we just might avoid any real discomfort.
We made our way downstairs a short while later. I had slipped on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Peter’s clothes were still damp from the rain, so I gave him some sweats and a tee to borrow, forgetting that there really is nothing sexier than a lover wearing your clothes. We were close enough in height that he was able to comfortably don my things, but Peter was definitely thicker and more muscular than me so my T-shirt was a snug fit across his broad muscular chest. A sexy snug fit. I gulped and turned my attention to the vegetables I was rinsing for our salad. I’d left the music on earlier, and Beyoncé’s soulful voice accompanied the steady beat of rain against the kitchen windowpane. It felt cozy and inviting, like being nestled in a warm cocoon.
“You like to cook?” Peter asked politely as he sipped the chardonnay I’d just poured him.
“Yes. I love it. It’s therapeutic somehow, you know?”
Why did I say that? It sounded weird. Now I’d be forced to explain the calming properties of chopping onions. I wasn’t up to the task. Not tonight. I was feeling the strangest mix of physical contentment and inner turmoil. I knew anything but the most innocuous conversation coming from my mouth would be dangerous.
“I do know.”
I looked across my small kitchen island at him in surprise. He was sitting on one of the barstools pulled up to the island, one arm draped casually over the back of the chair while the other rested on the granite surface. He looked perfectly at ease, much in the same way he did in a boardroom meeting. He also looked sincere. I forgot what we’d been talking about, though. I was so easily distracted around him. Damn.
“What do you know?”
Peter laughed, his eyes squinting in easy humor.
“I was agreeing with you that cooking is therapeutic. Or at least that it can be.” He was letting me off the hook, although there was a spark in his eyes that told me he was very tempted to tease me.
“Do you like to cook?” I paid close attention to my veggies. They provided a good excuse not to make eye contact with my handsome guest.
“Yes. My mom is—”
“Italian. Oh, is she an amazing cook? I love Italian food. Real Italian food, mind you. Where is she from in Italy? I loved the food in Florence when I was there.”
Silence. Only Destiny’s Child singing to me in the background. Didn’t he hear me? I looked up at Peter, who was wearing a highly amused grin.
“What is so funny?”
“You. I noticed it earlier. You talk a lot. One sentence runs into the next. It’s kind of….”
“Annoying? Sorry, I’ll try to slow down. I can’t help myself some—”
“Shh. I was going to say cute.”
“Oh.”
“My mother is from Cortona. It’s a small hilltop village about forty-five minutes from Florence by train.”
“I know exactly where that is! I was there, believe it or not. It’s tiny. It seems like one of those places where you literally know everyone in your town. Does she?”
“What?”
“Know everyone?”
“Well, not anymore. She’s lived in the States now for thirty-plus years. She has a brother who still lives there but everyone else is gone now.”
“Oh. Do you go back at all now to visit your uncle?”
“It’s been at least five years since I’ve been back to Italy. My parents go every year, but I can’t take more than a week off at a time, so vacations are hard.”
“Where was the last place you went that you loved… vacation-wise?”
I loved to travel. Just thinking about the thrill of discovery in travel excited me to no end. I could talk about places I’d been to and wanted to go to for hours. We’d discussed traveling at the di
nner Aaron set us up at, but we hadn’t gone into any depth. I was curious about what someone who travels as much as Peter does for work would have to say about his experiences. Some people hate it, which floors me.
“Actually it could be someplace you stumbled on for work too or with a friend,” I added as a disclaimer.
“Hmm. I don’t… Santa Fe.” Peter slapped his hand down on the island in decisive manner, and leaned back comfortably in his chair.
“Santa Fe? New Mexico?” I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes with the back of my hand as I peered over at him.
“Yes, it’s a special place. I can’t really describe it, but….”
“Try,” I insisted. I loved the deep timbre of his voice. I’d rather hear him tell me about a place I’d never been than listen to my own jumbled attempts at conversation. Plus I enjoyed his company. He was proving an easier companion than I would have thought.
“O-kay….” He hesitated.
“What is the food like? What about the nightlife? The people? The architecture? What makes it special?” I was waving my knife as I warmed up to my subject. Really. It wasn’t that hard to figure out why you liked a particular place.
Peter laughed, throwing his head back. I set the knife aside and put a hand on my hip, cocking my head to the side as I waited to find out what the hell was so amusing.
“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you… well, maybe I am. But it’s just because you’re….”
“Talkative?”
“Unique.”
Oh. I liked that. I smiled and picked my knife up. I waved it once in the air in his general direction letting him know I was still waiting for his answer. He wasn’t going to distract me this time.
“Let’s see. It was about a year ago that I was there. I had business in Albuquerque and a day to kill in between meetings so I took the train to Santa Fe. I was only there for a day, but it made an impression. The food rivaled my mom’s cooking. And yes to your earlier question… she’s a great cook.” He winked at me before continuing. “The colors were what struck me the most. I’d never seen a sky so blue. The market umbrellas and bright pottery… I can’t really describe it. Just brilliant. There are quite a few churches in town, and some are hundreds of years old. But there are also many indigenous people. People who truly belong to the land, if that makes sense. The result is a perfect communion of nature and religion. The entire place reminded me of an outdoor cathedral. A spiritual place.”
Peter’s voice was hypnotic. He had obviously been enthralled with his short visit, but it wasn’t Santa Fe that had me looking quizzically across the island at my guest. It was his sudden burst of passion. The only other time I’d ever heard him speak so openly and passionately about something that didn’t have to do with work was when he asked me to meet him at his club. I swallowed hard and averted my eyes back to my task. I had to be careful around him. He was showing me a side to him that I could very well fall for.
“I’d love to go someday.” I tried for nonchalant, but knew my tone was off.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What is the last best vacation spot you loved?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. It was an endearing gesture. Silly and sweet. I chuckled as I pulled out two plates for our dinner. I had made a salad niçoise with fresh tuna, hard-boiled eggs, green beans, red onions, and tiny new potatoes. Fresh-baked bread was set in a basket nearby. I picked up the bottle of chardonnay and topped off Peter’s glass and my own before taking the barstool next to him.
“Mine tends to always be the last place I visited. I’m unoriginal that way. I love it all.”
“Well, then where was the last place you were that you liked? This is great, by the way. Thank you.”
My heart did a funny little flip at his compliment. Damn, I was easy.
“My last vacation was to Miami for the White Party.”
Peter placed a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud with a mouth full of food.
“You really are gay if you know what that is, then, aren’t you?”
He quickly regained composure, though his smile was firmly in place as he picked up his fork to spear a potato.
“I mustn’t have done a very good job of fucking you if you have to ask that.”
Just like that, all the blood in my body went south. My cock was instantly hard and heavy between my thighs making me feel more than a little breathless. A glance in Peter’s direction told me he felt it too. An electric current sizzled between us. He was staring at me with lust and longing in his eyes. I opened my mouth to say something… anything to get the balance back, to return to a safe zone, but I couldn’t do it.
I leaned closer to him, our knees brushing under the counter, our elbows brushing above while our gazes locked. Peter made up the distance. I heard myself sigh aloud as our lips touched. Peter turned in his seat and pulled me closer to him as he darted his tongue inside my mouth. I tasted the chardonnay on his lips and on his tongue. I wanted nothing more than to crawl onto his lap, to be as physically close to him as I possibly could be.
Fuck it. If all I was getting was one night, I was taking it. I would deal with regrets later.
I moved completely into his space, never breaking the kiss, as I brought my arms up to circle Peter’s neck. I pressed our bodies close as I rose to stand between his legs. The height was all wrong now, though, and we both groaned in frustration at the loss of physical contact. Peter stood suddenly and molded his body to mine. I could feel his hard-on through my sweat pants, and it turned me on like a switch. I rubbed my pelvis against his to create a friction of any sort. I wanted him again. Now. Here on the kitchen island or maybe over the table. I didn’t care how. Just now.
Peter’s hands were all over me. He was all about getting to my bare skin. His hands roamed up inside my shirt, tweaking my sensitive nipples before sliding behind me to caress my back and my ass. I whimpered when I felt one of his fingers riding between my ass cheeks.
“Any condoms down here or do we have to go upstairs?” He purred in my ear, then licked the shell and bit my earlobe, sending shivers running down my spine.
“Desk drawer, next to the refrigerator.” At least I hoped I had one in there. Preferably lubed.
Peter went to retrieve the condom, fumbling through two-dozen pens, scissors, and God only knows what else in my kitchen junk drawer. He gave me a “what the hell?” look before he struck gold and flashed a pirate’s grin in my direction. My knees weakened at the sight of him opening the condom and pulling the sweats down just far enough to release his turgid cock. My breathing was fast and erratic as I waited for him to come back to my side. He stopped in front of me, fastening his lips over mine in a passionate kiss. I felt a slight pressure on my shoulder and looked up into Peter’s eyes. The sensation of his bare cock against my stomach was intoxicating. His very masculine presence and evident desire were exhilarating. I was ready to go all over again. He licked at my lips again and held my chin upturned in his hand.
“Suck me, Jay.” He pushed at my shoulder again, in case I didn’t quite understand the message a second time.
I dropped to my knees on my kitchen floor and quickly obeyed his order. I had wanted this almost from the moment I met him. To feel and taste him on my tongue. It was a good thing I was on my knees; desire would have brought me there either way. Peter’s dick was leaking judicious amounts of precum, and it was hard to the point of looking painful. I licked at the broad head, tasting him for the first time, and groaned in delight. I love sex. Period. But the truth was that I loved the taste of a man more than anything. And Peter tasted amazing. Special. I teased him with cat-like licks, ignoring the pressure of his hands on my head.
“Fuck!” he growled as I finally gave in and swallowed him whole. I sucked and licked at him like a man possessed. I couldn’t get enough. His strong hands suddenly stopped my movement, and he pulled me effortlessly to my feet. Peter wanted something else.
He pulled my swea
ts down far enough to cup my bare ass in his hands, kneading the flesh as he ground his hips into mine. My stomach was damp from our collective precum. We were both on edge. Peter picked me up and shuffled a few feet back, leaning me against the sturdy wood surface of the kitchen table.
“Can I fuck you again? Can I fuck you here?” His voice was low and thick with desire. I couldn’t speak, so I nodded and sat back on the table, thankful that it was well made and would hold my weight. I opened my legs wide and invited my lover in. Peter made quick work rolling on the condom before he plunged inside my tight channel. I gasped at the sensation, but wrapped my legs around his ass and used the heels of my feet to urge him on.
It was a fast fuck. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake. I held on as Peter plunged in over and over, coming seconds after I did. Other than grunts and moans, we were silent in our quest for release. Peter rested his forehead against mine and kissed me before pulling himself gently from my body. I sat up on the table feeling a little disoriented and amazed by our rapid and intense passionate spiral.
Peter was at my side a moment later with some wet paper towels. He wiped up the semen coating my stomach and made a motion for me to turn around so he could do the same with my ass. My eyebrows shot up and Peter laughed.
“Now you’re feeling modest?”
“Yes. I can wash my own parts. Thanks all the same.”
He looked like he wanted to argue with me, but decided to grant me this one. He nodded, disposed of the paper towel, and washed his hands at the sink before turning back to face me.
“You still hungry? For food?” I asked lamely.
Peter chuckled and leaned in to kiss me once more on the mouth. It was an affectionate, sweet kiss. A boyfriend-like kiss. I relished in the sweetness of the gesture while mentally kicking myself as I felt the fall begin. It was like being pushed over a waterfall, knowing you have no choice but to follow its course and let it take you where it will. I didn’t know how I would manage any of that when this was all I was going to get.