The One That I Want (2 page)

“Um, thanks anyway. But I gotta get home to Dave.” We came to a standstill on the street, and Paul’s expression was a stony blank.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. I wouldn’t have asked you out...” Paul’s tone was sad and resigned.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Dave’s my cat, and if I don’t feed him before a certain time he’ll pee in my work shoes.” Paul’s grin was wide again and he chuckled, the smile lighting his hazel eyes. “Hey, don’t laugh. Do you know how hard it is to get the smell of cat pee out of leather?”

“No, I don’t, but I imagine you do.” Paul chuckled, and keeping hold of my hand, he ran his thumb across my knuckles. “See you Monday morning? I feel like taking the stairs.”

I MADE it home that night early enough for my shoes to remain cat pee free, but when Paul scared me to death in the stairwell on Monday morning I almost did Dave’s job for him.

“Jesus. Again? You sure you’re not psychotic?” I attempted to slow my heart rate but I wasn’t sure it was racing because he’d scared me.

“Ask my secretary, she’ll tell you.” His brow furrowed. “Better you don’t ask her, actually.”

“Scared she’ll tell me the truth?”

“Yes.”

I climbed the stairs, and it wasn’t until we reached the second landing that Paul spoke again. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you have lunch with me today?”

“Umm...” Wasn’t he bored enough on Saturday night?

“We can go to the café across the street if you’d like, they do a mean BLT.” His puppy-dog eyes gleamed with hope.

“Okay, I have lunch at twelve-thirty.”

He grinned wide, giving me a view of those perfect teeth. “Great. I’ll meet you there. I’ll get a table. Come and join me when you’re ready.”

WE HAD lunch every day that week and a date planned for Saturday night. We talked a lot during our lunch breaks, and Paul was full of questions. I told him that it was just me, no family to speak of; my parents had kicked me out when I opened my closet door and I hadn’t seen or spoken to them since. It had taken me a long time to accept that my parents were homophobic bigots that couldn’t love me enough to see past my sexuality. Paul came from a nice middle-class family with open and loving parents, and a sister who lived in Connecticut. He went to an Ivy League college and had a degree in marketing. He’d been working at Connor and Markham ever since. I put myself through community college, taking classes when I could fit them around my job as a waiter, and when I’d saved enough money, I moved to the city. We were similar in age, he had three years on my twenty-eight, and we were both huge fans of the Rangers.

“So who do you think played the better lead role, Olivia Newton-John or Michelle Pfeiffer?” Paul asked around his chicken sandwich.

“Oh no, you’re talking movies now. Better stick with the stage productions.” Our date tomorrow night was
Grease
.

“Okay, fine, Maryanne Peters or Georgina Sommerfeld?”

“Duh, Maryanne. Georgina is a brunette, and she has to wear a wig for the production. You can’t have a brunette Sandy.”

Paul swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob. My mouth was dry so I took a sip of my soda, hoping it would distract me. It didn’t.

“True, a brunette Sandy wouldn’t work. Georgina has a great voice though, but I’m still gonna be perving on Danny Zuko regardless of who plays the lead. The man makes me hot.”

I laughed. Seeing Paul relax after a hectic morning was kinda cool. He always came to lunch looking a little frazzled, complaining about difficult clients, but halfway through lunch he’d be relaxed and easygoing.

He laughed again at my expression. “What, you don’t think Danny’s hot?”

“I prefer Kenickie. He can pin me against a wall anytime.”

Paul’s eyes darkened. He licked his lips and shifted a little in his seat. I shifted in mine as well, my erection pressing hard against my zipper.

“So, what time is the show tomorrow night?” I needed a change of subject; the thought of Paul pushing me up against the wall was making my head spin. Apart from the odd finger grazing and brief hand-holding, we hadn’t touched or kissed. Were we just friends? Some of the looks he gave me had me thinking he wanted more, but why hadn’t he kissed me yet? I was used to guys wanting sex on the first date, then promising to call on their way out. They never did. Would Paul want to have sex with me tomorrow night after the show? Would I let him? Yeah, I would. I’d be stupid not to—it’d be the only time I’d ever be with someone of his caliber. I bet he fucked like a god. Jesus, I needed to get my head on straight.

“The show starts quite late, I was hoping we could get some dinner first?”

“On one condition. I pay for the meal.”

“But... why?”

“Because you’ve bought the tickets, and I have a feeling they’re expensive seats. The least I can do is buy dinner.” I didn’t want him to think I’d use him as a meal ticket. Whenever I had a date, which wasn’t that often, I’d always insisted on going Dutch. I wanted to at least try and be equal with Paul. I couldn’t afford a classy place but I hoped he liked the restaurant I picked.

“Does it mean that much to you?” Paul asked, smiling.

“Yes.”

“Okay, you can take me to dinner before the show. I’ll even let you choose the restaurant.”

SATURDAY NIGHT came and we enjoyed dinner at a small Japanese restaurant around the corner from the theater. My head was buzzing from too much sake. Paul dragged me down the street by the hand and he didn’t release it until we were ushered to our seats. It was the longest we’d touched in the last week and it wasn’t long enough.

Not long after our drink at intermission, Paul was out cold again, snoring softly. Really? What was he doing during the day that was wearing him out? As soon as I had that thought, I shut it down.

Even though my date slept beside me, the performance was fantastic and I sang my heart out. Kenickie was still my favorite, and I knew I’d be jerking off to his image tonight. I sighed inwardly—it wouldn’t be the first time.

As the performers sang the final number, I was doo-wopping and shoo-be-dooing right along with them. I looked at Paul, who was staring right at me; a sleepy, happy grin on his perfect face. His eyes shone as he held my gaze.

His mouth moved, and I thought he said, “God, you’re wonderful,” but I couldn’t hear him over the noise of the final number.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

“I said, do you want to get a coffee after?”

“I need to get home to feed Dave... but I have coffee at my place?”

Paul’s grin lit the theater. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

NO SOONER had I closed my apartment door behind us than I was pinned against it, Paul’s mouth devouring mine. I had no choice but to give in and let him take what he wanted from me, which appeared to be my breath. He licked and nibbled at my mouth like I was dessert. I struggled to breathe. His tongue danced with mine as he pinned me with his size and considerable kissing skills. My skin was on fire where he touched me, and I couldn’t fill my lungs fast enough when his mouth left mine. As he moved the assault to my neck, I tilted my head to give him more access. My knees threatened to buckle under the pleasurable torture.

“God, I can’t believe I’m finally kissing you. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Paul whispered, leaving hot trails against my skin where his lips had been.

“Umm, since last week?”

He kissed my ear and sucked on the lobe. “Before that.”

Before that?

Any coherent thought fled as Paul dropped to his knees and fumbled with my fly. “I need to taste you.”

“Uh huh.” Yeah, like I was going to say no to a blow job. It would probably be my only one from him so I planned to enjoy it while I could.

Paul freed my erection from the confines of my pants and swallowed me deep into his throat, burying his nose in my short pubes. “Oh my fucking god.” It had been a while since I’d had a blowjob, but I didn’t remember any of them feeling like this.

Paul lifted his head. “Holy... you taste so good.” He sucked me all the way back down without missing a beat as he held me against the door, his hands pinning my hips so I couldn’t thrust like I wanted to. Watching his head bob up and down at my crotch while he sucked and licked at my length was the biggest turn on. I threaded my fingers through his hair—hell, I needed something to hang on to—as incoherent groans came from my throat.

I couldn’t believe this man was on his knees, for me. Worshipping my dick like he was a starving man and I was his only source of sustenance. The thought did me in and I could feel my orgasm making my toes curl. It rose up my spine quickly, like fingers of flame following a trickle of kerosene.

I tugged on his hair gently, warning, “Paul, I’m gonna...”

He quickened his pace, cupping my balls in one hand as the other held my hips still. When a finger gently touched my hole I was gone. The flames erupted, and I shot hot streams down his throat. He moaned as he held me still, working his throat around the head of my cock, milking every last drop.

“Ohmygod.” My knees threatened to give out. Paul stood, wrapping his arms around me, holding me up as he kissed me deep and hard. I tasted myself on his tongue. I never knew I tasted that good—maybe it was the combination of both of us together, but the tang was doing a number on my brain. I tried to form words, possibly a sentence, but my thought process was a hot mess.

“I want to... oh God... have sex with you. Please tell me we can,” Paul whispered in my ear, his breath making my already sensitive skin tingle with a renewed arousal.

I must’ve said something in the affirmative, because Paul bent down and pulled up my pants so I could walk without tripping on them. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me down the hallway to my bedroom. In his haste he opened the bathroom door and realizing it wasn’t the room he wanted, he closed it again before opening the correct one.

He pulled me into his arms again, kissing me deeply as he ground his hard cock against my hip. “I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured between kisses. He walked me backward until my legs hit the bed; then he pushed me down and climbed on top of me.

“Move up the bed,” he ordered softly. Under his kisses, I shuffled up the mattress awkwardly, unable to do anything except what he told me, until my head hit the pillows.

Paul’s touch was gentle, hesitant. “Can I... I want to be inside you. Will you let me? Please?”

I was incapable of forming words, so I answered by reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a strip of condoms and the lube.

“Oh God, I can’t wait to be inside you. I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

“Oh... God.” Despite just having my brains sucked through my dick, I was hard again. I bucked my hips.

“Eager aren’t you?” Paul chuckled as he pushed my shirt over my head, then sucked on my nipple till I bucked my hips again, my dick seeking friction but coming up against nothing but air.

“I need to feel you.” My breath was ragged as it hissed out between my teeth.

We stripped our clothes off with lightning speed and before I knew it, Paul had my knees pushed toward my chest while he licked and sucked at my hole. I was lost in a sea of bliss. He replaced his tongue with a spit-slicked finger, then two, and it burned and stretched so good. I was no fainting virgin, but it had been a while.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Paul groaned as he suited up and grabbed the lube. Again, he pushed two lube-slicked fingers inside me, twisting and curling them, making sure I was well prepped.

“Fuck, hurry up. I need you inside me.” I wasn’t a pushy bottom but there was a desperation behind my words that I couldn’t contain.

“I’m here, babe. I’m here.”

Paul’s mouth didn’t leave mine as he positioned his cock and pushed inside my body. It hurt so good my vision blurred. When he was finally all the way in, he paused for a few seconds. Our eyes locked. “You feel so good, so tight.”

“Ungh.” Yep, coherent thought had fled once again.

Paul chuckled as he moved his hips, slowly at first, and when my body was used to his girth he picked up the pace, snapping his hips faster and faster as he breathed next to my ear. “Oh God, I knew you’d feel good, but I never imagined...”

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I rested my heels on his ass and encouraged him to go faster. Harder.

Paul rose up and leaned his weight on his hands near my head. The change in angle had him hitting my prostate with every pass, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. Moans and grunts coming from both of us filled the room, and the staccato sound of skin slapping skin filled the spaces between. I had a passing thought about the neighbors, but quickly realized I didn’t care.

“Jerk yourself, babe, I want to feel you come.” Paul’s breath was sharp as it washed over me.

I pulled twice on my shaft before my orgasm flew through my body, making my toes curl again. I painted my chest and abs with thick white ropes just before Paul’s hips stuttered and he shook above me. His eyes closed, he threw his head back and yelled my name before collapsing on top of me.

Paul kissed me deep and lazy as we came down from our high, my come smearing between us. We kissed languidly for long minutes until we couldn’t ignore the condom anymore.

“You okay, babe?” Paul whispered next to my ear, and then kissed it.

“Hmm.” Words were not easy to form.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Hmm mmm.”

“I’ll take that,” Paul laughed as he pushed off me. “Don’t move,” he said, like he thought I was able to.

My eyes still closed, I heard Paul dispose of the condom, then rummage around in the bathroom. He came back a few seconds later with a warm, wet towel and cleaned my chest and abs, his mouth following the path of the cloth, applying little kisses to my now very sensitive skin.

Crawling into bed beside me, he wrapped me in his arms and kissed my temple. “So, Danny and Kenickie. You think they ever got it on?” Paul asked, his breath ruffling my unruly hair.

I giggled as I thought about it. “All the time—well, they do in my dreams anyway.”