His Just Desserts (3 page)

“Isaiah, is that you?” Sean paused. “Come on, speak to me, baby. Don’t do this to me. Don’t call and just breathe in my ear.”

The coaxing tone and endearment did it. It snapped him out of it while ticking him off. “Don’t call me baby. What the hell do you want, Whitcomb?”

“I want many things, but you should remember what it does to me when you call me by my last name in that tone, Isaiah.”

The confidence oozing through the phone set him on edge. He didn’t need any reminders of their past.
I’m not about to let him sucker me into forgetting what happened
. He pushed away from the table. “Just tell me what you want, or I’m hanging up.”

“Touchy tonight, aren’t we? Did you have a bad night at work?”

“Yeah, some hotshot asshole lawyer came into the restaurant and threw a monkey wrench in my night.”

An unexpected chuckle filled his ear. “Aw, the bastard. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to see you, to talk to you about making dinner for me.”

“You came into my workplace to ask me to make you dinner?” Ready to lose it, he began counting backward from ten.

“Actually, it’s dinner for me and the founding members of my firm.”

“Dinner for you and your bosses.” Isaiah wanted to punch something. “You honestly want me to cater a fucking meal for you.”

“Well, there’s more than that. I need you to play the part of my lover for the night.”

A chill washed over him. “No fucking way. I wouldn’t play your kept man ten years ago, and I sure as hell won’t dance to that tune now. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t you
dare
hang up on me!”

The burst of anger from the other end of the phone stopped him from hanging up.

“Never once have I considered you my kept man. There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to take care of the man I love. I may be a lot of things, but I never once acted like I was better than you, or like I thought you were inferior to me. We were in love, and when I asked you come with me to Iowa City, you said no. You could’ve graduated a year early, but instead you wanted to stay in that Podunk town. I had to take advantage of the scholarship to U of I, so I left.”

“You could’ve stayed. It was only a year.”

“Could have, should have—it doesn’t matter now. It’s all water under the bridge. What I want to do is to offer you a substantial amount of money to come to my home, prepare a meal for myself and the partners.”

Sinking down into the chair, he rubbed the back of his neck.
There has to be a catch. Old lovers just don’t show up and offer vast amounts of money, Waterson
. “But?”

“But now, I have a feeling no amount would be enough to get you to pretend to be my lover for the night, and that’s what I need from you.”

A bitter laugh passed his lips at the irony. “This is just grand. I never thought I’d hear the mighty Sean Whitcomb offer to pay someone to pretend to be his lover. You’re a lover extraordinaire who could have a man any day of the week. Isn’t that what you told me before you left?” Unresolved resentment peppered his voice as his anger boiled over. He wanted to do more than punch Sean. He wanted to hurt him right where his heart lived. “So why don’t you go find one of them to do it? Better yet, see if you can’t call one of the modeling agencies and have them send over some hot guy to play the role, because the only thing that would convince me to agree is if I got to top you for a whole weekend. And it would be no-holds-barred sex. You’d be my bitch, for once—and I’d fuck you until you screamed with pleasure.”

“Is that what it would take, Isaiah?”

The soft tone should’ve warned him, but anger made him rash. “Yeah, it’s the only damned way…but we both know you’ll never agree to it. You never bottom, you never give up control, so this discussion is over—”

“No it’s not over. I agree to your terms,” Sean said. “One meal, a couple hours of pretend, and you get me for the whole weekend. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your pound of flesh. I’ll call tomorrow with the details.”

A click in his ear told him Sean had hung up.

“What the fuck did I just do?” Horror filled him. He dropped the phone. He’d let his own resentment and Berta’s prodding force the man he’d once loved into accepting what amounted to nothing more than rape.

“Son of a bitch!” Tossing the pillow from under his head to the floor, Sean wanted to crawl out of his skin. The clock next to his bed read 2:03, and he couldn’t force Isaiah’s words out of his head. Not only did he ache for the touch of his ex’s skin against his, his damned dick wouldn’t go down. The thing throbbed worse than a toothache. It blew his mind; the very thing Isaiah asked for was something he longed to give him. The proof hovered over his stomach, dripping into his navel. If he thought it would do any good, he would jack off. But a simple hand job wouldn’t slate his desire to be fucked raw.

Of all his regrets concerning what happened ten years ago, hiding his desire to feel Isaiah’s cock in his ass was the biggest. He’d never told his lover about the dreams where he woke covered in sweat and needing release because he’d wanted the other man to ride him long and hard. Now his little chef wanted to top him in bed—a dream come true. He didn’t care if humiliation was Isaiah’s goal or not. He wanted what the other man offered. He wouldn’t let him back out just because it might or might not be a ruse to punish him or his way of getting even. Perhaps seeing him submit would open a doorway which would bring Isaiah back into his life in a more permanent way.

Growling, he kicked off the covers and grasped his shaft, the sensation sending pleasure dancing along his nerve endings. He hissed. His nuts drew up tight, which didn’t surprise him. He’d been on the edge for hours. “Dammit. I’m not a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be acting like this.” But he couldn’t stop thinking. A curse of his. Once his mind latched onto something, it wouldn’t let go until it played out in his head. The idea of being forced down on the bed, stretched, and having a cock buried in his ass aroused him until his butt cheeks clenched.
But it has to be him
. He stroked his cock, his movements jerky. “Fuck…it’ll be so good.”

He’d never bottomed for another man, had no desire to do so, in reality. Until a snarky black kid who dreamed of being a chef had snuck up on his blind side. His breathing grew raspier. He imagined how he’d be taken, how Isaiah’s body would cover his when he thrust in and out, stroking over his prostrate with every lunge. Would it be hotter than the toys he used when he needed an extra little bit to help him forget the stress of his job?

Releasing his cock, he rolled over with a groan and reached into the drawer of his nightstand for the lube and the vibrating butt plug he kept there. Flipping the cap open on the lube, he dumped a generous amount over his first two fingers. He pushed them in hard, loving the burn as his body accepted them. “Shit!” He rocked back, jerking his hand free to repeat the process in several attempts to make sure he got plenty of lube inside. After the third time, he grabbed the plug, unable to wait any longer. Pouring more of the slick over the tapered silicone, he hiked his knees in the air, exposing his hole. Would Isaiah take him this way? As he shoved against the plug, a grunt escaped him. It would be sooo damned intimate. To be face to face with the first man he’d fallen for—the one who he’d compared all of his subsequent lovers to, would be a dream come true.

By the time he finally worked the plug all the way in, his muscles trembled in effort. Sweat ran down his face. He gasped for breath. Letting his legs drop back to the bed with a low whimper, he reached for the small remote which controlled the speed of the vibration. Wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock, he hit the button for the lowest setting on the device. Inside him, the plug flared to life. Hot and desperate for release, he wouldn’t take long to find it. The remote dropped to the bed. His cry of pleasure echoed through the dark room. Stroking up and down, he pinched his nipples, imagining another’s touch, or better yet a wet mouth, nipping at the hard little nubs until he fought for more. But Isaiah wouldn’t give it. No, he’d play with his body until Sean promised everything—anything the other man wanted, if he’d just let him come.

He would hear his lover’s dark laugh. It pushed his lust higher. Rubbing his hand back and forth, he pinched both nubs. How would it feel to have a cock gliding in and out, in time with the hard snap of hips against his ass? Would he struggle against his lover? In his mind, he did. At least until Isaiah growled and rolled him onto his knees, face first on the bed with his ass raised high. Despite his chef‘s smaller stature, the power in those arms would be phenomenal. Would years of kneading bread, chopping vegetables, and hefting fifty pound bags of potatoes, flour, and other staples have honed the strength Isaiah needed to handle him with ease?

He gritted his teeth, stroking faster, fumbling with the remote, forcing it to a higher setting. “Oh, fuck, yes!” He pressed down hard against the sheets, wanting to force the plug farther in. “Fuck me, baby.” Lost to his lust, he almost felt the thud of the man’s hips against his. The sound echoed in his ears. His lover’s hoarse panting mixing with his own pleading gasps and whimpers as he reached for the orgasm just out of reach. In his fantasy, a cock ring would be nestled against the base of his dick, controlling his release, while his lover pushed him closer to nirvana.

“Oh gawd, let me come.” The words babbling out of his mouth, he frantically stroked. He needed this, more than he needed air to breathe at the moment. His body primed for the meltdown he would feel all the way down to his toes.

“
Beg for it
.” Isaiah’s voice filled his head.

Sean whimpered, willing to do whatever he wanted. As long as he’d continue to saw in and out of his ass.

Tell me what you need, Whitcomb. Give me that much
.

Lost to his fantasy, he could’ve sworn Isaiah licked the tip of his ear, tugging it on it with his teeth.

“Please, baby, please!” He thrashed around on the bed, his balls tight against his body. Pulling on them, he was trying to forestall his release, when his elbow hit the remote. The plug setting shot to high. A shocked scream escaped his raw throat when the vibration hit him hard, stimulating his prostate. It started at the base of his spine, gathering in intensity until his thighs trembled and his arm shook. He teetered on the very edge.

“Aw, fuck!” He let out a roar, imagining Isaiah leaning over him, his dark, lust-filled eyes watching him. Ordering him to come. The first spurt, so forceful, almost hit him on the chin. He gasped, groaned, and arched his way through one the most incredible orgasms he could ever remember having. By the time his fist milked the last of his release from his cock, he’d been turned inside out by the raw intensity of it. Every nerve ending tingled with not only pleasure but pure awareness of both the damp sheets against his spine and sweat cooling on his skin.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, his eyelids getting heavy. “I’m so fucked.”

***

The alarm jangled, waking Sean. Slapping in the general direction of the annoying sound, he groaned when he missed and the thing continued to buzz. Prying opening gritty eyelids, he rolled on his side. His fumbling fingers found the shut-off button on the fourth try. “Damn.” Who’d dumped an entire sandbox into his eyes? He slowly took stock of everything else. His brain kicking into gear, he realized how sticky he was and that his toy still stretched him, silent now. He’d either managed to shut the thing off before he passed out, or the batteries had died. He winced when the sharp corner of the remote stabbed his hip. Digging it out from under him, he flipped the switch, but nothing happened. Tossing it on his stand, he gingerly sat up, groaning when the plug shifted and grazed over his hot spot. Between his thighs, his morning woody throbbed. On unsteady legs, he made his way into the master bath.

Pushing his way into the wide glass cubicle which housed a state of the art multi-headed shower, he turned it on. He’d had it installed on a whim after seeing some insane commercial where the repairman tried out his clients’ new shower. Sean hadn’t regretted his purchase once, despite the substantial cost. He shivered as he stepped under the warm water. Adjusting one of the jets, he sighed when it massaged away the ache in his ass. After doing a quick scrub to wash the dried cum from his chest and stomach, he braced his arms against the wall, letting the water soothe him. He wondered if Isaiah had needed to take matter in hand after their phone call. Of course, the thought of those dark fingers stroking over the darker cock as Isaiah fantasized about fucking him, had him hard again. Groaning, he reached between his thighs.

***

Thirty minutes and another orgasm later, Sean pushed open the glass doors at SG&F. Carrying his briefcase, he headed toward the bank of elevators. Dressed in a crisp suit of navy blue and a dark maroon tie, he looked the part of a hard working attorney and nothing like the foster kid he’d been. On mornings like these, having a condo only a few blocks away from his job was a benefit. He’d lingered under the hot spray a bit longer than he should’ve but couldn’t find the gumption to regret it. So what if he hadn’t had time to eat breakfast or strip his bed? He’d grabbed a cup of Joe and a breakfast biscuit on the way, and his bed could wait until he returned home. He didn’t have a lover to impress with clean sheets.

“Morning.” He greeted Tlotzin’s wife, Naima, when he passed the receptionist desk. Looking up from the computer, she gave him a smile.

“Morning, Mr. Whitcomb. You have messages.” She handed him a stack of little pink slips. He smiled back at her. Despite her louse of a nephew and her husband’s views on homosexuality, he truly did enjoy her personality. She had a way of putting everyone at ease when they entered the office, which made her worth her weight in gold.

“No rest for the weary. Thanks, Naima. I’ll take care of these.” He’d turned to head to his office, when she stopped him.