by Daisy May
One More
by Daisy May
One More
Published by Daisy May
Copyright © 2017 Daisy May
All Rights Reserved
May not be copied or distributed without prior written permission.
Cover photo: © Deposit Photo
Cover design: Raven Blackburn
Reuben
Sometimes lovely people come in lovely packages. The outside matches the inside, the face parallels the soul, and everybody goes home happy.
Sometimes, a handsome face conceals the heart of Satan within.
Hannah nudged me in the ribs as she saw a member of the second category approaching. “Watch out, it’s Mr. Angrypants.”
I took a step back from the cash register. “You saw him first. That means you’re handling him for once, right?”
“I’d love to, I really would, but I was just about to go on break.” She smirked at me as she slipped off her apron and disappeared into the back room.
Ugh! Yeah, we were entitled to two breaks per shift at the Cup of Joy, and she hadn’t taken either of hers yet today… but leaving me in the lurch with Mr. A was beyond normal coworker rivalry.
I smiled weakly as the customer walked up to the counter. Already I could see the line of tension in his perfectly shaped brow. I noticed the way he was clenching his ridiculously masculine jaw. And I didn’t miss how those eyes—deep chocolate brown with unfairly long eyelashes—were burning with suppressed rage.
“Hi there, the usual for you today?” I chirped out.
Many of our customers were on their phones as they ordered. Instead of making eye contact, they mumbled out their drink preferences in my general direction. It irritated me to no end.
And yet I would’ve preferred that over the way Angrypants stared me down, his eyes boring a hole through to the back of my skull.
“Yes,” he said.
No “please.” No “thank you.” To be fair, I would’ve fainted on the spot if he’d said either.
As quickly as I could, I made the Americano with a dash of full-fat milk and two sugars. Mr. A clearly wasn’t the type to worry about his body—not that he needed to, because it was freaking gorgeous.
As he turned to wait for the coffee, I got a full view of his profile—particularly the bulging muscle of his bicep. He didn’t seem like the type to waste time in a gym, so I wondered how he’d gotten so buff. I could never achieve that kind of bulk, even if I spent every minute of the day working out.
I finished stirring in the sugar and handed the paper cup over to him. Before even putting a lid on the cup, he took a slow sip.
This was the moment of truth. He’d either be satisfied—meaning he’d walk away without a word—or unsatisfied. In the latter case, he’d slam the cup back onto the counter and demand that I make it again.
Angrypants wasn’t the yelling type, which made him even scarier. Over the past few years, I’d developed a pretty thick skin for people who thought it was their right to scream at customer service workers. Mr. A’s fury was quieter, more restrained. As if he’d follow me home after work and beat me up for daring to put an extra splash of milk in his espresso.
So I was pretty much vibrating with anxiety as I watched him sip.
He took a second this time. Long enough that I almost thought I’d made the coffee well enough for him. I wasn’t going to relax until he’d grunted—I liked to tell myself it was a grunt of thanks—and left.
He didn’t. “More sugar,” he said, placing the cup back on the counter and glaring at me.
“Of course, sir. You want a new cup, or more sugar in this one?”
“You can add some to this one,” he said. “It’s fine.”
Turning my back to him, I hissed through my teeth as I stirred in another spoonful. This guy had to be coasting through life on those looks, because otherwise he’d realize he wasn’t doing me a favor by allowing me to fix his drink. If he didn’t have that damn face, surely he’d know how few people complained about their drinks at all. This wasn’t freaking Starbucks.
But he had that glorious bronzed skin, and the strong bearded jaw, and all of the rugged masculine appeal that would make anyone weak in the knees… so he probably had no idea how normal people lived.
“Here you go, sir.” I handed the Americano back to him.
Without trying it, he nodded and walked away. I let out a sigh, leaning on the counter for support. Some people might’ve developed a crush on a guy like that. And if things had been a tiny bit different, I might’ve fantasized about finding the soft heart under that crusty exterior, too. But I knew better.
This wasn’t some heartwarming movie where the jerk is secretly a nice guy. It was real life, and I was pretty sure this jerk was just a jerk.
“He-e-ey,” Hannah sang out, tying her apron strings around her back as she re-emerged. “How’d it go with our favorite customer?”
I scoffed at her. That’d been a short, conveniently-timed break. “It was fine,” I said. “And by fine, I mean I didn’t feel like he was silently condemning me to the eternal fires of damnation.”
“That’s something,” she said cheerfully.
“Not much of a something.” I ran a hand through my hair. Mr. A’s face came into my mind again, unfairly good-looking. And even more unfair was the gleaming gold band I saw as my mind’s eye drifted down to his hands. “How is it that someone like that can be married?”
Hannah shrugged as she topped up the water in the espresso machine. “There's someone out there for everyone, I guess.”
I shook my head. “I just don’t see how anyone could love a man like that.”
Charlie
I closed the door behind me, my heart already picking up speed as I walked into the living room. The moment I set eyes on Jasper, I burst into a grin. “Hey, you.”
This was the first real smile I’d worn all day, and it felt fucking good. Even after fifteen-plus years together, seeing my husband did that to me every time.
Jasper flipped off the TV and I nuzzled into his arms. I inhaled his scent—citrus and sweat—and kissed him deeply. It felt like it’d been so long since I’d seen him, even though we’d eaten breakfast together this morning.
Being so close to him now had me halfway hard, and the passionate kisses he was giving me weren’t helping. I loved his mouth and his tongue—along with every other part of his body. Right now, he was making me think about sliding a different body part between those lips of his.
But after a few minutes of making out, he pulled back to ask about my day. He was the one always wanting to talk, talk, talk. I was a man of few words. I could’ve figured out how his day had been from the way he felt in my arms. I could’ve gauged his stress from the tension in his back, his emotions from the set of his shoulders.
“My day was fine,” I told him. From long experience, I knew this wasn’t enough of an answer for him, so I went on. “Just had a Delce pressure issue, but it was at an outstation.”
He nodded. I’d been telling him about my work as an aircraft engineer for so long that he had a basic understanding of what I meant, even when I didn’t put things in layman’s terms for him. He understood there had been a problem with ice forming on a plane’s wings and that I’d had to drive outside the city to fix it.
“And your day?” I asked, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“Working on the Scotson case,” he said. “It’s going all right. I think the dad will give up on getting custody soon.”
“As he should,” I grunted. The father was a piece of work, and I could say that without ever having met the man. Jasper had told me more than enough for me to make the judgment.
Another long kiss, and I was hardening even more. In my younger days, I never would’ve thought one ma
n could turn me on so many times—especially after so many years. The two of us were an inseparable pair now, though. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.
“You taste like coffee,” he said when he pulled away again.
“Mmm… I went to Cup of Joy on my way home.”
I’d had a good time eyeing up the cutie that worked there, too. Longish hair, deep hazel eyes, bow lips, the slightest hint of a gay lilt in his voice.He seemed to be behind the counter every time I went, which definitely contributed to why it was my favorite coffee shop.
“I could’ve made you a coffee here,” Jasper said.
“Not the same,” I said. “They make it the way I like it.”
“What, and I don’t?” He shifted over, placing his butt on my lap. “I can make anything the way you like it.”
I gave a low groan. He was rubbing his crack right along my quickly-growing erection. “We don’t have an espresso machine.”
“We could get one.”
“We don’t have space.” I closed my eyes to savor the feeling of him sliding along my length. “Every new appliance we buy takes up room, and then we never end up using half of them. You don’t even drink espresso.”
“All right, you can keep going there.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “And we can keep going here.”
I laughed throatily. That thing where married couples get bored of each other and slowly stop having sex had never happened to us. Just the opposite, actually. With every year that passed, we just seemed to want each other more.
“Keep going out here?” I asked. “Or should we head into the bedroom?”
“Wherever you want.” He tugged at the hem of my shirt, and I raised my arms over my head for him. “We’ll waste less time if we stay here.”
“I see what you mean.” My hips arched up automatically as his fingers brushed over my nipples. I hummed out a brief sound of pleasure. “What did you want to do exactly?”
“I’m thinking you feel like option number fourteen.”
I licked my lips, smiling. Long ago, we’d decided to number each of our most-used activities and positions. There was order to some extent—the first few meant me fucking him in various positions, and the next few were him fucking me in the same order. Needless to say, sixty-nine was option sixty-nine.
Number fourteen meant him going down on me… which definitely sounded good at the moment.
I was already dying for a taste of him, too. “Followed by number six?” I gasped as his fingers worked at my belt buckle.
He pushed my legs open wider as he freed my cock. Dropping to his knees in front of the couch, he grinned up at me.
“Whatever your heart desires.”
Reuben
I shrugged off the light sweater I’d worn on my way home from work. In the fall in Miami, it was only kind of necessary. I mostly liked the way the dark fabric accented my hair.
Yeah, I could be a little vain. I knew I looked all right, with my slim frame and trimmed goatee. Yet every guy I dated disappeared after a few dates. I’d only had three short-term boyfriends, the last of which was two years ago. And somehow Mr. Angrypants, of all people, was married?
It hardly seemed fair. I tried to put him out of my mind as I tossed my keys and wallet on the counter and grabbed a bottle of kombucha out of the fridge. I was sure he wasn’t thinking about me right now. He was probably with his wife.
It was almost nine at night. I’d sleep in less than two hours—I tended to be a morning person—and I didn’t want this one negative interaction from the afternoon to color my entire evening. If I was in a bad mood when I slept, I’d wake up cranky. Angrypants hadn’t even been particularly rude to me today. I guessed I was just bitter about my own love life.
And my work life, come to think about it. I had a damn law degree! Why was I still shilling coffee for ungrateful customers?
I’d graduated several months ago, but I hadn’t gotten a legal job right away. With the student loans I was suddenly expected to pay off, I’d decided to up my hours at Cup of Joy. I was supposed to be job-hunting in my spare time, but between work, yoga, and friends, I’d pretty much forgotten about my job hunt.
Well, it was time to start. I crossed the room to the desk. Given the size of my studio apartment, it was practically on top of my bed. I gave one quick, longing glance to the cozy blanket and fluffy pillows before forcing myself to turn on my laptop.
I sipped my kombucha as I opened up a few job sites. The problem was that most law jobs weren’t posted on here. They were usually filled by someone in the company or someone known to the employers. The joys of nepotism!
Even the jobs that got posted were quickly inundated with resumes from people just as qualified as I was. It was hard to stand out without knowing someone who could pull some strings.
I should’ve put more effort into chatting up my professors and making connections with practicing lawyers. Of course, that was easy to say now. At the time, I’d been too swamped with coursework and my part-time work at the coffee shop.
Getting through law school was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Those three years had felt like an endless slog. I would never have made it without that light shining at the end of the tunnel.
Now that I was here and I’d finished the courses and passed the bar exam, that light turned out to have been a figment of my imagination all along.
I scrolled up and down the job postings. I would’ve given my left arm for the crappiest of these jobs at this point. Even if they were completely unrelated to human rights issues, they’d be a stepping stone—unlike my coffee-slinging career.
But I already knew I wouldn’t get any of these jobs, not even if I wrote a customized cover letter for every one of them. Apparently sometimes the law firms actually had someone in mind, but they were forced to post the positions publicly because of “due process” or something. I didn’t really get it. All I knew was that it was bullshit.
I took another sip of the kombucha. This tasted like bullshit, too. What flavor was this? Hibiscus? Why did I spend four damn bucks on it?
I pushed the bottle away. Calm down, Reuben. You already knew kombucha sucks, but it’s good for you. I sighed and pulled it back, but didn’t bother to sip again. Something was clearly missing from my job hunt. I was going about things the wrong way.
I logged onto Facebook, where the first thing I saw was a picture of my friend Gordon and his new husband. He and I had tried dating once upon a time, when we first started going to yoga together, but we’d quickly decided to just be friends. I was happy for him, but I really didn’t need to see his perfect marriage right now.
I scrolled down the page. People were graduating. Yay. Having babies. Woohoo.
Oh, and look, one of my law school buddies had gotten a job. Seething with jealousy, I bashed the “like” button. I almost scrolled down, but I read the rest of the caption.
“Networking works, everybody! I reached out to a fellow Hispanic-American lawyer who’s more established, not asking him for anything. Instead, I offered to buy him a coffee. It’s called an informational interview, people! He took a shine to me and introduced me to the partners at his firm. Now I’m going to be working with him every day!”
Hmm… that was an interesting way to go about it. My buddy had found someone who had something in common with him and bonded over that. Too bad I wasn’t Hispanic. I wasn’t any kind of minority… except…
I typed “gay networking Miami” into Google. To my surprise, an online group for LGBT professionals popped up. I logged in and looked through the profiles. There were accountants, managers, HR people…
My eyes came to rest on a certain Mr. Jasper Culver, specializing in family law. I tried to keep my focus on his qualifications rather than on his picture, but damn, he was sexy! He looked like the kind of bear I sometimes saw at gay clubs. Greying a tiny bit, but that only gave him that “silver fox” appeal.
This was a networking site, though. Not a dating site. I wasn’t here
to get crushes on distinguished-looking older men.
I flipped back to the Facebook post to look at the wording my law school friend had used. Informational interview, huh?
I started typing out a message.
Jasper
“How long is this going to take?” Charlie whined.
I placed a kiss on his bearded cheek. “Not long. I’m just meeting with the guy. Giving him advice, or something.”
“But I need your advice, too.”
“What kind of advice do you need?”
“How to get my husband to stay home with me.”
I laughed and ruffled his hair. We’d just finished dinner, and he was sitting back in his chair with a pout on his face. I loved how he didn’t want to let me go out for even an hour. You would’ve thought promising to spend the rest of my life with him would be enough, but after being apart all day, he didn’t like me going anywhere without him at night.
“I don’t think I can advise you on that,” I said. “It’d be a conflict of interest.”
He pouted more. “You really have to meet this kid?”
“I don’t have to, but I want to. No one’s ever asked me for an informational interview before. It’s flattering.” I finger-combed a few strands of his hair into place. “Plus he said he’ll buy me coffee.”
“Coffee? You always told me you don’t drink coffee. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“You still know me. I’m assuming he won’t mind buying me a tea instead.” I kissed his cheek and headed toward the door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Not okay,” Charlie grunted as he followed me. “You said this kid messaged you on some gay site.”
“Gay networking.” I gestured at my hand. “And if he gets any ideas about this older mentor figure, he’ll see my wedding ring soon enough.”
“Good,” Charlie said. “I’m done with sharing you. Even if he’s as cute as you said.”
I pulled on my shoes, wondering if I’d made a mistake by mentioning the kid’s cuteness. Charlie and I had been “monogamish” for the first ten or so years of our relationship.