Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JAREK

“Extra virgin olive oil.”

I stared at the rows upon rows of oils, then looked over at Bean, who was frowning and rubbing his chin. “Are you sure I need?—”

“I’m sure. Trust me.”

“Okay, but you do understand I’m never going to be a gourmet chef, right? Like, we’ll be lucky if I can manage a scrambled egg by the end of all this.”

His face softened as he turned to me. “Have faith in yourself. I never would’ve thought I’d be good at…” His voice lowered to nothing as he mouthed, “ blowjobs .” I held back a laugh as he shrugged. “But here we are.”

I was so goddamn charmed. I reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “Here we are.”

He met me with a smile, and I got lost in his gaze before I realized we were standing in the middle of a grocery store aisle. Granted, it was a little bougie market with imported everything, just a few steps below Erewhon, and there wasn’t a soul in sight, but I also knew that Bean was still working on being comfortably queer with himself.

I wasn’t about to push anything public on him. Our date—and it had definitely been a date—had been a big step for him. I didn’t want to push it.

Clearing my throat, I stepped back and returned my gaze to the shelf. “So…”

“You know we can get all of this a heck of a lot cheaper at Trader Joe’s, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t let myself shop there. If we do, I’ll get a bottle of olive oil, three vegetables, and then spend the rest of my budget on frozen meals.”

He grimaced.

“Exactly,” I told him. “So, snobby, overpriced oil it is. Besides, I’m not on a strict budget right now. Just pick something good.”

He bit his lip, his cheeks a little flushed, then he reached out and grabbed a bottle, tossing it into the cart next to the pile of vegetables he’d insisted I buy, the carton of farm-fresh brown eggs because he was determined to teach me how to make an edible omelet, a small collection of meat, and a crusty baguette that he’d been eyeing with hungry eyes, so I’d grabbed it and insisted we add it to our dinner plans.

This wasn’t a date. Not exactly. It was a cooking lesson, but it felt like something more. When he first suggested it, my instinct was to decline. Not because I didn’t want to learn but because it made the whole thing with Bean feel transactional. But when I agreed, his face lit up like a damn Christmas tree, and I found myself wanting to make him light up all the time.

It was wrong. Dangerous. My heart wasn’t broken, but it was bruised and still tender after giving it to the wrong man for so many years. Yet I found myself craving Bean like I hadn’t craved anyone.

Gio had never made me want like this. He’d never made me feel alive like this.

“You okay?”

I realized I’d been quiet for too long. Clearing my throat, I grabbed the cart, and we headed for the aisle full of rice and dried pasta. “Sorry. In my head a little.”

He laughed quietly and set his hand next to mine on the cart handle. “If anyone knows what that’s like, it’s me.”

I grinned at him as we made our way to the imported packages of pasta wrapped in paper. He wrinkled his nose as he looked at them all.

“Doesn’t this place carry any regular stuff?”

I laughed. “Not for these prices. Oh look, gnocchi. Have you made that before?”

“A couple of times,” he said, snagging the package. “Let’s save it for a colder night.”

That implied he’d be around for colder nights, and god, that went right to my core. I wanted him with a ferocity that was hard to contain. Grabbing a few more pasta shapes off the shelf, I loaded the cart and let him take me to the sauces.

“You’re not going to make me do my own?”

Bean laughed. “Neither of us has an Italian grandmother with a secret recipe. The stuff in the jar is fine.” He grabbed a couple, studied the labels, then added them to the bounty.

“Hey, sunshine?”

He turned, the tips of his ears pink the way they always turned whenever I called him that.

I fought the urge to cradle his face and kiss him. “I think we have enough. I’m not going to be able to retain all this information.”

“I’m going to teach you the basics. Then you get the joys of experimenting.”

“We’ve already seen how that ends,” I warned him.

He laughed again, brightening as he leaned into me. “I have faith in you.”

“Yeah?” I hadn’t heard that in so long. Or…ever? Oh, hell .

He glanced behind him, then surged up and took a swift kiss that left me breathless and stunned despite the fact that it had lasted only a second. “Come on. We’d better get out of here.”

I followed with a rush in my steps that I couldn’t hold back.

“Cooking is mostly about timing,” Bean said. “And tasting. Obviously, you can’t sample raw eggs when you’re cooking an omelet, but with everything else, you taste as you go. And the thing I remember the best is you can always add, but you can’t subtract.”

I had my own little black book now. Well, it wasn’t black. It was a legal pad I’d swiped from work, but it served well for my notes as I wrote down everything Bean was saying. He was taking mercy on me tonight and only making me work a little.

He’d dressed a chicken for roasting, drying it off, then rubbing herbed butter under the skin before putting it in a roasting pan I hadn’t even realized I owned. After that, we washed and chopped potatoes and carrots, and I followed along with the motion of his hands, trying not to get too distracted by how damn competent he was and how much it was turning me on.

But I was half-hard and thrumming with need as I watched him stir the couscous in the pot.

“You sure you trust me to remember all this?”

“If I can do it, then trust me, you’ve got this,” he said with a wink. He was smiling, but he also looked a little run down, and part of me wanted to say screw it and order out and let him just lounge. But I knew he’d be insulted if I tried to coddle him.

“You say that, but you have a real knack for this, sweetheart. I’ve always been a damn disaster in the kitchen.”

He bit his lip and turned away, but I could see him frowning. “May I…? Could I…?”

“What is it?” I prompted gently in case it was aphasia instead of hesitation.

“It’s about your ex.”

I deflated, leaning against the counter and moving closer to him. “Anything you want to know.”

“I don’t want to, you know, feel bad for making you talk about him.”

I chuckled and reached out, tracing a line down his jaw, making him shiver. “Trust me, it’s totally fine. I don’t mind. We were married for a long time. He was a huge part of my past, even if it was all the unhappy parts.”

Bean studied my face, then nodded. “What’s his name again?”

“Gio.”

“Did he have an Italian grandmother?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Yeah, he did. But she died before we got married, so I never got to meet her. His mom took over that role, but she didn’t like me very much.”

“Because you were a man.”

I hummed. “She eventually got used to it, but she had dreams of him with a nice Catholic girl and half a dozen kids. She was mostly put out that we didn’t make her a grandma.”

Bean turned his gaze away. “Did he cook for you?”

I almost choked on my own tongue. “Oh, honey. No. He was as bad in the kitchen as I was. We lived on takeout and meal services.”

Bean shot me a horrified look. “Your cholesterol!”

I snorted and shrugged. “Been lucky so far, and now I have you to save me from myself.”

“Darn right,” he muttered.

I swayed in and took his chin, kissing him soft and slow. “I understand this is a gift, and I appreciate it.”

“You’ve done enough for me. It’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do?” I shook my head and kissed him again. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me, my darling.”

He swallowed heavily and looked like he wanted to ask me to elaborate, but I was glad he didn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to hold back and I couldn’t lie to him. But the truth would probably ruin everything.

“So,” I said, letting him go. His face turned away, and I told myself that wasn’t disappointment I saw in his eyes. “What do you want my first solo meal for you to be?”

“An omelet.”

My gaze widened. “You trust me with that?”

“I have a busy schedule this week. Practice while we’re apart,” Bean said. “Make your friends your guinea pigs and impress me when you see me next.”

I was terrified, but I felt a sudden urge to meet the goal he was setting. I wanted to wow him. No, I wanted to woo him. I wanted to sweep him off his feet, reach his heart through his stomach, and destroy all his fears and reservations about sex through his dick.

“Done. And what about you?”

He set the lid on the couscous, turned the dial on the timer, then shifted to face me. “What about me?”

“Your list.”

His cheeks bloomed red. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah,” I leaned in, “ that .”

He blew out a puff of air. “I’m too embarrassed to say it aloud. You want to have a look?” He pulled the book out of his pocket, and I took it, flipping to the back where he’d written it all down.

“Frotting—check. Blowjobs—you’ve nailed that,” I said with a wink, and he covered a laugh with his hand. “Anal?—”

“I know you said that it’s not, you know, totally important,” Bean said in a rush.“But I would like to try and see if I like it.”

“Of course.” I pressed the book into his hand and tugged him close. “But we don’t need to jump in with both feet. Let’s try fingers first. And maybe my mouth?”

“O-on me? There?”

I licked my lips. “If by there you mean me putting my tongue inside your ass, then yes, sweetheart. On you. There .”

He swallowed so hard I could hear it click in the back of his throat. “Oh, I…you’d…want that?”

“Yes.” God yes. “And you never have to do it back unless you’re absolutely ready. But I’d love to eat you out.”

“Oh…oh my. Oh.” He took a breath that shook his chest, and I was suddenly afraid I’d gone too far.

“We can take it off the table if you?—”

“I want that,” he said in a rush. “But I’m not…what if I’m not, you know. Empty.”

I snorted and leaned into him, kissing the fast-beating pulse on the side of his neck. “Let me worry about any potential messes.” I was pretty sure I could make it erotic enough for Bean so he’d stop worrying. We could plan better in the future. For now, I just wanted to make him feel good. “After dinner?”

“If you’re sure,” he murmured.

I cupped his cheeks between my hands and looked him in the eyes. “Yeah, sunshine. I’m so incredibly, absolutely sure.”

The dinner was amazing, but dessert was even better. I had Bean on the bed, facedown against the mattress with his legs spread. I’d shown him how to give himself a cursory clean in the bathroom—nothing as deep as an enema, but enough that he’d feel safe letting me put my mouth on him.He’d returned to the bed with ears blazing pink and a determined look in his eye.

He let me kiss him until he was calm again, and then I spread him out beneath me and got to work relaxing him with soft touches and little nibbles along all his sensitive spots.

I hadn’t touched him there yet—not where he was desperate for me. I was going to draw it out. I wouldn’t make him beg. I wasn’t going to make him work for it. But I wanted to take my time and allow him to feel every second of how good this could be.

Leaning in, I kissed the back of his neck as my fingers danced down his spine. I had the bottle of lube next to my free hand, and my cock was thick and heavy between my legs, but I didn’t need to touch myself.

Not tonight. This was for him.

“Oh. That feels…” Bean trailed off as my hand stopped just short of his ass. His hips shifted against the bed, and I knew he was rubbing himself on the sheets. My desire flowed white-hot through my veins. “Jarek,” he whispered.

I kissed between his shoulder blades as I picked up the bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount on my fingers. Trailing them between his cheeks, I swirled a touch around his hole, which clenched tightly.

“Breathe,” I told him.

“I—I’m trying.” His ribs expanded, then deflated slowly. “I’m nervous.”

I kissed his ribs. “I know, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t think I’m afraid of that.” I waited as he sat with his silence. Sometimes, he needed time to work out his thoughts, and for as long as I was allowed in his life, I would be patient with him. “I’m afraid it’ll feel good. Too good,” he clarified before I could ask.

I pressed my fingers harder against him without pushing inside, and I rested my cheek against his back. “Why does that scare you?”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. I just…” He trailed off.

I was pretty sure I understood. I didn’t know if he believed in God anymore. I knew he’d walked away from the hateful, ugly side of religion, but I also knew the scars it left behind. And I knew he was probably still struggling to believe—deep down—that he wouldn’t go to hell for this.

I wished I could make it all go away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said firmly. He lifted up and looked over his shoulder at me. “No. Please don’t stop.” I leaned over and kissed his lips, then urged him back down before I pressed one finger inside, slipping in before he could brace himself. He released a short, heavy “Uhf” and tightened around me. His hips began to move again, rolling circles against the sheets as I pressed in deeper.

I wouldn’t hit his prostate yet. I wanted him to get used to all of this first.

“It’s…different. Full,” he muttered.

I smiled. “Yeah. Kind of like you need to take a shit.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but…um…yeah.”

“It’s normal. Just relax. It gets so much better.” I added a little more lube, then kissed the globe of his ass as I added a second finger and spread them. His breath left his lungs in a rush, and that’s when I went for it. It took me a second to find the angle, but the moment I did, he unleashed a torrent of wordless noise against the bed.

“Oh, oh,” he gasped when he seemed to form a coherent thought. “Jarek, please .”

I hit him there again. Then again. He clenched and released around me like he was trying to draw my fingers in deeper. His breath came in short pants, and he rutted hard against the mattress with each pass of my fingertips.

“Oh my giddy aunt!”

I laughed without meaning to. “Where did you get that one?”

“M-my old therapist. S-she was…she… oh my …she was English.”

I kissed his hip as I began to pound his prostate, relentless and unforgiving. His whole body was trembling with need, but before he could come, I pulled out, and he immediately lifted his head, staring at me as though I’d betrayed him.

“Why!”

“Patience, sunshine. Do me a favor and get up on your hands and knees.”

He let out a thready laugh. “I don’t know if my arms will hold me.”

I pulled a couple pillows from the head of the bed and propped up his hips so he could lean forward and I could still get to his dick. It hung fat between his legs, throbbing and leaking, and I ghosted a touch over it, then curled my palm around his balls. With my free hand, I grabbed a cloth and wiped him free of as much lube as I could, then I spread his ass to the side and leaned in to kiss his hole.

He still tasted like lube, but none of that mattered when he let out a chest-deep groan and pushed hard against my face.

“Jarek. Jarek,” he begged.

I spread his cheeks with both hands, then dove in, pushing my tongue in as far as it would go. I felt drunk on the noises he was making, my cock so hard it could cut steel, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to last. I had no idea listening to him fall apart like this would be so erotic, but dear god, I was so lost to him.

“I need to come,” he gasped as I swirled a lick around his entrance. “Please, please. Let me come.”

I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him. Pushing my hand between his legs, I gripped his cock and pulled away far enough to say, “Fuck my fist,” before diving back in.

He clenched around me, pushing back against my face with lush rolls of his hips as he brought himself to the edge. I felt when he was close and when he was about to let go. I tightened my grip as he grunted, and then he tightened around my tongue as he spilled.

Cum hit the pillows, dribbling over my fingers as I stroked him through the aftershocks, and after a moment, he collapsed face-first.

My body was trembling from how badly I wanted him. I would have given anything to push inside and mark him, but I knew he wasn’t ready for that. I took a breath and reached between my legs, squeezing my dick to try and hold myself off.

“Did you finish?” he asked.

“No. Don’t worry about me,” I assured him.

He glanced over his shoulder with hazy eyes and blinked. “On me. You could…um. If you wanted.”

My vision damn near whited out at the thought. “Are you sure?”

“I want it. I want to feel you.” He shuffled back a little, then reached behind him and spread himself wide. “Frotting?” he asked.

I knew what he meant. I grabbed the lube and slicked myself up, then let my cock rest between his ass cheeks and began to pump my hips. I’d held myself off, but I was still on the edge, and it only took two thrusts before I was coming. Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned as I spilled, decorating his skin with each thick pulse.

He moaned softly as I collapsed against him with my face in the crook of his shoulder, and I kissed along the side of his neck.

“Tell me you can stay again,” I murmured. “I don’t think I can drive like this.”

He snorted softly and turned his face to look at me. “As long as we can clean up. I don’t think this will be very fun in the morning.”

“It won’t,” I told him, then took his chin with slightly sticky hands and held it as I kissed him. “I just need two minutes.”

“I need ten,” he said. “I had no idea it would be like that.”

“Neither did I,” I confessed. For all the times I’d done that in my youth and with Gio, it had never felt so good. I had never come so close to an orgasm just from watching a lover fall apart.

But here we were. I knew it had to mean something—more than just liking him. I just wasn’t sure I was ready to face the truth because I had a feeling it would hurt.