Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Mitch

My alarm went off far too early for my taste. Especially, since I’d been up until at least one in the morning working on Giselle and Aaron’s massive photo cull and edits.

I had promised Penn that I would have some teasers, or at least some good raw images for him to check out, but I’d completely forgotten about the wedding of the century sitting at home on my computer.

But I was a man of my word, and come hell or high water, I was not going to show up to Penn’s Bakery without something for my little Cream Puff to view. After all, he did send me home with some delicious cinnamon rolls.

I slammed my hand against the incessant alarm on my phone, groaning as I tumbled out of bed. Penn’s parents had informed me that Penn and his friend slash co-worker, Archie, usually opened the shop around five am, which wasn’t my favorite time to get up, but being as the sunrises in Jasper Springs always looked best first thing in the morning, for the shot I wanted to get, I knew I was going to have to be an early riser.

If only I would have quit on time last night, instead of going through pictures from the bakery.

I’d managed to capture a few of Penn, as well as Archie and his parents doing their thing.

I couldn’t help as I culled and edited the good stuff, that I let myself get a little lost in the details. When you’re a photographer, you see everything. People’s flaws, the scar on their left cheek from when they fell when they were six, the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes, even the tiniest frayed and static hair. Part of my job is to cover up those flaws. But in contrast to that, my job isn’t so much about making someone beautiful with an airbrush. It’s about finding the beauty in the things that already exist.

And let me tell you, zoomed in at 400%, there was not a flaw on Mr. Perfect as far as my trained eyes could see.

I got lost in the smoothness of his skin, the thickness of his eyelashes. The look of utter concentration on his face as he worked diligently on his cake and avoided me like the plague.

I’d thought maybe he regretted what happened between us. That I’d been an idiot and pushed where I shouldn’t have.

But then when we were all alone, with no one else to be seen, he seemed less cold.

It was almost as if he wanted to open up, wanted to explore whatever was forming between us.

And as much as I knew it was probably a bad idea, I couldn’t deny I wanted to explore the unknown too, even though I knew it might hurt me in the long run.

I jumped in the shower, letting the hot water soothe my sore muscles. Most people didn’t think about the physical demands of my job.

I didn’t have an assistant, and I never had. I was a one man show, and as such, only I was responsible for my equipment, my car, my happy clients.

But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t come with its own set of problems too.

Including the sore back and muscles.

God, I’m not even thirty yet, what the fuck?

I lathered up the soap, taking my time to wash up, if only because I was tired and hated early mornings.

I ran my hands along my body, working up a good layer of suds. I wasn’t the bulkiest guy at the gym by any means, but I was no stick either. After all, you’ve got to possess some strength to carry heavy ass equipment to weddings and what not.

As my hands made their way to my balls, I closed my eyes and breathed in the relaxing citrus and pine scent. My cock twitched against the back of my hand, and I knew it was better to just take care of myself rather than wait for my damn erection to die down on its own.

I took my cock in my hand like I normally did, pulling and tugging on my shaft until I found the rhythm that I wanted.

Usually, I can just rub one out without too much thought, but for some reason, my brain wanted to cause me more problems.

Because instantly, as I thrust my cock in my hands, his image came to mind.

Bad idea, Mitch.

Don’t go there.

I knew I shouldn’t.

But it was just a fantasy, and I was alone, so what did it matter?

At least that was what I told myself, at the time.

Instead of fighting what felt natural, I let the thoughts bloom.

The memory of his tongue in my mouth, the deep groan that escaped his lips when he kissed me.

His hardness against mine.

Fuck!

Sticky moisture beaded at my slit, and my hips picked up their pace. I knew it wouldn’t be long.

The thoughts mingled with the memories as I imagined his soft, plush lips along my heated skin, his warm tongue licking me along my shaft, until he wrapped his lips around my swollen head, and...

“Fuck!” I barked as I fell forward against the tile, bracing myself as I came suddenly.

My stomach muscles spasmed as my cock pulsed and I tried to catch my breath, watching my release circle the drain. I tugged my cock, working to empty the remains as my muscles started to soften, leaving me with a sense of euphoria.

Fuck, how the hell am I going to make it through seven days of this, if I can barely handle twenty-four hours?