Passing Time Page 2

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. I mean, when guys start talking to themselves in bars, I think that’s a clear sign.”

  Jake might have spoken in jest, but Louis was in no mood for humor at his own expense. He nodded at the bag in Jake’s hand. “I did skip dinner tonight.”

  “Good. You’ll be hungry, then. Where are your plates?”

  “Not exactly sure.” Louis scratched his head. “I tend to eat out.”

  “If you eat at all?” Jake gave Louis a disapproving look and then brushed past into the kitchen. He flipped open half a dozen cupboard doors before finding the plates. He took out two and placed them on the breakfast bar before distributing the contents of the foil cartons equally between them.

  “Here.” Jake handed the plates to Louis. “Take these to the table.” Louis did as directed, but not without a reservation or two, especially at being ordered about in his own—admittedly temporary—home.

  “I remembered your bourbon.” Jake joined him a moment later, a tumbler and wineglass in one hand, cutlery and a carrier bag in the other. He set everything down and pulled a half bottle of bourbon and a bottle of red wine from the bag. “Before you start worrying about my dad’s profits, I slipped thirty quid into the till before I left.”

  Louis sat down and stared into his dinner plate, eyeing the few chunks of fatty meat drowning in a thick, greasy sauce.

  “You sure you don’t want some of this?”

  He looked up as Jake took a seat and poured himself half a glass of wine.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Is something wrong?” Jake picked up his fork. “You don’t like lamb?”

  Louis uncapped the bourbon and poured himself a large shot. “The food isn’t the problem.”

  “So what is?”

  Louis wasn’t sure, but at one in the morning, here he was having dinner with a gorgeous man at least ten years his junior who must have at least one ulterior motive.

  “Do you usually buy all your customers dinner? Personally delivered?”

  “Only the sexy ones.”

  Louis hadn’t thought of himself as attractive, let alone sexy, in a long while. He didn’t believe it now from someone who could—and probably did—do a lot better.

  Jake speared a piece of lamb. “Heather told me you asked about me yesterday, on my night off,” he said before popping the meat between his lips.

  “I left because I fancied an early night,” Louis said, though he hardly sounded convincing.

  Jake sipped his wine, gazing steadily at Louis from over the top of his glass. “If you weren’t interested in me,” he said after the silence began to get awkward, “you wouldn’t have told me where you’re staying. You wouldn’t have let me in tonight either. Louis, you’re as attracted to me as I am to you. One of us had to make the first move.”

  Louis lowered his gaze. Yes, he was attracted. Who wouldn’t be? Yet he couldn’t get past the idea he was being mocked. Maybe this late night visit was some sort of dare cooked up between Jake and this Heather girl. A bet. How much was a night in the sack with a washed-up loser worth? Usually around two hundred dollars. That was a while ago. The price might well have risen since then.

  Louis stood and moved to the balcony doors to watch the lights twinkle on the other side of the river. What about the other side of this situation in which he found himself? Jake really didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d dole out a pity fuck to the most desperate looking barfly. Why would he? He probably had his pick of the best-looking punters at Harvey’s. Perhaps Louis presented some sort of challenge. Did it matter? Whatever this evening meant to Jake, Louis could guarantee it meant even less to him. He was still puzzling things over when Jake appeared behind him, ghosting the glass. When Jake’s hands landed on his shoulders and began to knead, Louis near groaned out his pleasure.

  “You know at work,” Jake said, his breath hot against Louis’s ear, “I wait for you to come in every night. I try to act cool when you do show, like you’re just another guy in the bar. Only I don’t I think of you like that, and I’m not so cool right now.” He moved even closer, until something hard and solid pressed against Louis’s backside. “We haven’t even touched or kissed or anything.”

  Louis pulled away.

  “Jake.” His voice thickened with arousal. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Jake,” he began again. “We’re not going to touch or kiss or anything.”

  “Aren’t we?” Jake moved around to stand in front of him.

  Louis gazed into his face. A thin sheen of sweat glazed Jake’s forehead. Sparse fairish hair feathered his upper lip. Louis took a deep breath through his nose as Jake leaned toward him. He opened his mouth to tell him to stop, that things had gone far enough, but Jake’s lips closed over his own, and the words dissolved in the exotic flavors of spiced lamb, red wine, and lust.

  For a moment he indulged the kiss, even returning it a little. He pushed Jake’s tongue with his own; Jake pushed right back until Louis gripped Jake’s biceps and broke free, his breath coming in short, hard pants.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he said.

  “That’s not what your body’s telling me.” Jake made to move in again.

  Louis raised his palms and stepped back. “My body doesn’t always know what’s good for it.”

  “I’ll be good for it.” Jake swiped the hands between them away. He touched a kiss to Louis’s neck. “And to it.”

  The warm brush of lips sent a shiver of desire pulsing straight to Louis’s groin. “I thought you said this was about dinner.”

  Jake nipped at his earlobe. “Dinner’s over. This is all about dessert.”

  Louis closed his eyes as Jake grasped his backside with both hands and pulled him close.

  “Now,” Jake said, his voice low and breathy. “Do you know where your bedroom is? Or do you tend to go out to fuck too?”

  No. The voice in his head—on this rare occasion his own rather than Carter’s—sounded far, far away. I always order in. He gestured to a door on his right.

  Jake released him and started toward it, pausing halfway to glance over his shoulder. “Are you…coming?”

  Louis looked past Jake’s smirk to the closed bedroom door. “I should warn you. It’s been a while.”

  Jake’s smirk faded. He returned to take Louis’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “No problem. It’s been a few weeks for me too.”

  A few weeks? Louis registered the complete lack of sarcasm on Jake’s face. “It’s been a little longer for me.”

  Jake shrugged. “We can go slowly if you like. Whatever you want.”

  “What if what I want is for you to go?”

  “Do you?”

  Louis wasn’t sure. He could say yes, finish the bourbon, and spend the night unconscious on the couch. He could say no and take Jake to bed or, rather, have Jake take him to bed, and the chances were he’d not live up to expectations. Whores enthused about his bedroom prowess because they were chasing a tip. Sleeping with Jake would be different. He’d have to make the sex good, and he suspected he might have forgotten how.

  “If we go into the bedroom, I’m not sure if…” He paused, unable to find the words to explain himself. “What I’m trying to say is, no expectations. Okay?”

  Jake tilted his head and flashed an unsteady smile. “Okay. Whatever you like.”

  Chapter Two

  When they stepped through to the bedroom, Louis fixed his gaze on the bedspread and wondered if it was too late to change his mind. He glanced up to see Jake already shirtless, his toned torso and defined six-pack that could only result from some pretty rigorous sessions in the gym.

  “You okay?” Jake pushed his trousers and underpants to his thighs. His cock stood tall and proud, a thick drop of moisture already crowning over the exposed head. His dark blond pubic hair was neatly trimmed, and Louis wondered if he did that himself or if he got it styled. Oh fuck. What a ridiculous thought. He swept it away.

  “Uh. Did you bring
condoms?”

  Jake retrieved his jacket from the floor and reached into the pocket. He brought out a pack of three and a tube of lube. These he placed on the bedside table.

  Louis stared at them. “You’re certain of yourself.”

  “I popped into the all-night chemist on the way over. We’ve been flirting with each other since the day you walked into the bar. This was always going to happen between us sooner or later.”

  Was it? Louis had known nothing of the sort, but this was no time to argue the point. He started on his shirt buttons, aware of Jake’s attention as he unveiled a stomach already softening to middle age. At times like these, though they were few and far between, Louis regretted the apathy he harbored toward his body.

  “You’ve got a good physique,” Jake said.

  Louis lowered his head and spent too much time fiddling with his fly. “I’d rather you didn’t flatter me with lies.”

  “You shouldn’t think so little of yourself. Your posture could be better, sure, but that’s related to mood, and since you’re not in the best of places in your head, you…”

  Louis glanced up as he pushed down his jeans. Jake’s gaze fixed on his groin as his half-hard dick came into view. “I have been looking forward to this since you first walked into the bar.”

  “I thought I said no expectations,” Louis said, irritated this guy was laying it on three feet thick.

  “Do compliments make you uncomfortable?”

  “Exaggeration makes me uncomfortable.”

  Jake padded toward him and wrapped his arms around Louis’s waist. He pressed his body close, then dropped a kiss onto Louis’s shoulder. “Not a word of a lie,” he said, sliding a hand down the back of Louis’s pants. His fingers delved lower. Louis clenched his butt cheeks together. Jake pulled back. “No need to be shy with me.”

  “I’m not shy,” Louis said sharply, then in a softer voice, “I’m nervous.”

  “No need to be nervous with me either.”

  A touch of wickedness worked its way into Jake’s smile. He withdrew his hands, placed them on Louis’s chest, and gave him a deceptively sharp shove. The force sent him toppling backward onto the bed. As he lay there recovering himself, Jake grabbed the legs of Louis’s jeans and yanked them down and off. He tossed them aside and dived onto the bed, wasting no time rolling his body on top of Louis’s.

  They wrestled, each fighting for dominance until Louis managed to roll Jake onto his belly and held him flat to the mattress.

  “That’s not the way things works in my bed,” Louis said, breathless as Jake struggled halfheartedly beneath him.

  “Go on, then.” Jake thrust back with his hips. “Show me.”

  Show him? The words brought a challenge. An expectation. This guy had arrived on his doorstep wanting nothing more than a fuck from a middle-aged, soft-bellied lush. Now Jake lay before him, legs parted, ass tilted up in invitation, waiting to be shown exactly how things worked in this bed. Expectations? Oh yes, Jake was full of them.

  “Louis?” Jake glanced over his shoulder. “What’s up?”

  Louis thought back to the last time he’d been with a man. A year ago, back at the apartment in New York. He didn’t often indulge, but sometimes when the loneliness dug particularly deep, he’d picked up the phone and made a call to the agency.

  That particular night, his mistake was in requesting something a little different from his regular—or something way too familiar. Rather than the dark-haired, olive skinned, twenty-seven-year old Lawrence, he’d asked for a fair skinned, gray-eyed thirtysomething. They’d sent a pale whip of a thing with thin straggly hair and eyes the color of rain. The guy’s vocabulary came straight from the gutter, and the only resemblance to Carter was that they smoked the same brand of cigarettes.

  Louis thought if he closed his eyes, his imagination might give him back his lover’s body, if only for half an hour. There lay the problem. Louis couldn’t substitute a prostitute for Carter, not even in his head. After a few minutes of working hard, using every one of his skills to coax Louis erect, the prostitute glanced up from between Louis’s legs and announced, “Dude. What the fuck? You’re stiff as a corpse.” He hadn’t been referring to Louis’s cock, which lay limp and slick with saliva across his thigh.

  The memory remained raw enough to shrink his promising erection even further, along with the remnants of his ego. Carter’s voice interrupted his thought. “See what comes from looking a gift horse in the mouth? Or in this case, a pretty boy up the arse.”

  He moved to sit on the bed, keeping his back to Jake.

  “I warned you this might happen,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face.

  “Don’t worry.” The mattress shifted, and Jake’s hands touched lightly at his back. “Let me help.”

  “You’d be wasting your time,” Louis said, staring at the opposite wall. “I’m not… I don’t think I can manage to…” He winced. Why on earth had he thought this could work? “It’s not going to happen. I’d like you to leave, if you don’t mind.”

  Jake’s lips touched his shoulder. “I do. Mind, that is. Lie back for me.”

  “What?” Louis resisted the strong grip on his shoulders already guiding him backward. “Jake…” he said, as the young man got his way and Louis hit the mattress. A moment later Jake straddled his thighs. Eager lips closed over his nipple and teased it with warmth. Yet beautiful as he looked, masculine as he was, Jake might as well be a woman for all the lust Louis felt toward him now. He tugged at Jake’s hair, coaxing him to lift his face. “Why are you bothering with me?”

  “Because I like you. Because you’re different. Because I don’t give up so easy. Because you shouldn’t either.” Jake sounded genuinely troubled by Louis’s reticence. Or maybe the prospect of not getting laid tonight troubled him more. “Have you got any oil?”

  “Oil?”

  “Cooking oil or body lotion will do.”

  “Why would you want…?”

  “I’ve got an idea that might help you relax. We’ll need some”—the corner of his mouth twitched up—“lubrication. K-Y won’t do.”

  Louis recalled that he’d bought a small bottle of cooking oil with the intention of fixing himself eggs of a morning. Except he’d never quite got round to it.

  “The kitchen.”

  “I’ll find it. Don’t move. Okay?”

  Louis nodded as Jake launched himself off the bed and disappeared through the door. Louis wondered once again how he’d managed to get himself into this situation. It had been a game with Jake, or so he’d thought back at the bar. A little light flirtation in the one or two extended glances they’d shared. Louis hadn’t exactly encouraged the guy. He wouldn’t know how.

  What did Jake want out of this? Not merely sex. Had Louis mentioned his father’s money somewhere along the line? It was hardly something he could question Jake about outright. Jake’s father owned a bar. He probably had money enough of his own. So did Jake want sex or money? Either way he was going to be disappointed.

  When Jake came trotting back with the small bottle of vegetable oil, he was still, Louis noted with a trace of envy, most of the way to hard.

  “Now lay down for me.” Jake climbed back on the bed.

  Louis didn’t know where this was heading, but he wasn’t in the mood to tag along. “I’d rather not.”

  “Why not? I’m here, you’re here, and we’re both naked. All the ingredients are present. Give me five minutes. If nothing happens, we can just sleep.”

  “Or you can leave.”

  Jake lifted a shoulder. “If you still want me to. I’ll even go without a fuss.”

  “Will that be after you’ve made me stink like a French fry?”

  “Everyone loves the smell of fries, Louis.” Jake uncapped the oil. “Me, most of all.”

  Louis gave up. He felt about as sexual as a French fry but lay back down anyway. If Jake wanted to prolong the farce, he could give up five more minutes of his time.

  “No,” Jake
said. “On your front. I won’t need to touch your dick. Not yet, anyway.”

  He tipped a liberal amount of oil into his hand, and Louis begrudgingly rolled over, baring his backside to whatever nefarious tricks Jake had in store. A moment later Jake’s weight settled on it.

  “Try and relax,” he said as his oiled hands made contact with Louis’s shoulders.

  Relax? Louis could never relax with a beautiful man in his bed, at least not until he’d paid them off and they went on their way several hundred dollars the richer.