Better Than Chance (14 page)

“How do you want it, Jay?” he purred.

“Uh….” Again he gave a half laugh and gently pushed me forward.

“On your knees, then, since we’re already here. Bend over.”

Every command sounded like something out of a gay porn flick, but the seductive tone and timbre of his voice made it all unique somehow. I nodded and bent my body forward, supporting my weight with my elbows. I could hear Peter moving behind me and feel his presence as he settled back between my legs. With one hand he massaged the flesh of my ass. I felt the cool, wet sensation of lube as he brushed his fingers against my hole. He rubbed gently before allowing a single digit to penetrate. I moaned aloud and instinctively pushed back into his sure touch.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Jay.”

My mouth was wide open, and I could barely think straight much less find an eloquent way to answer him.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Baby
. Hmmm. I groaned in consent, shifting my ass farther back into his lap, shamelessly begging for more. More fingers. His cock. Just more.

The sound of a condom being unwrapped sent another wave of unbridled desire racing through me. My right hand flew to my aching dick in the hopes of aiding my release. A sharp smack on my right cheek had me turning indignantly to cast an evil eye over my shoulder.

“Don’t touch yourself until I say so. You hear?”

I could hear his southern accent in his command. A sure sign that his control was perilously being tested. I nodded in acquiescence and smiled wickedly, shaking my ass at my lover as I waited. He slapped my other cheek before placing his sheathed and lubed cock at my hole.

“Peter. Hurry the fuck up. You are killing me here already!”

“Don’t worry, honey. I got ya.”

I felt the first push of his thick flesh enter my body, and tensed. He was big, much bigger than anyone I’d been with in a long time. Suddenly I regretted my impetuousness. If he went too fast, I’d have a hard time walking the next day. Peter stopped and ran a soothing hand over my back, my ass, and down my legs.

“Shh. It’s okay now. Tell me when you’re ready, hot shot.”

“Fuck!” I wanted to yell at him but it hurt too much. I had a sudden fear that I’d have to tell him I couldn’t do this. I was more than a little grateful we weren’t face to face.

He pushed in a little farther and stilled again. The pain receded and was instantly replaced by a wave of pleasure so great my breath faltered. I pushed back into his pelvis experimentally, loving the feel of him inside me. I wanted to be sure I could handle him before I started begging.

“Does that mean you want more, baby?”

“Y-yes. Fuck yes!”

My hands clutched at the bedsheets as Peter firmly held my hips and plowed his thick cock inside me. He set a moderate pace at first. His hands alternately soothed and petted or lightly slapped at my ass. I rose on my arms and pushed back to meet him thrust for thrust. Peter pulled me back, shifting so that I was sitting in his lap impaled by his flesh.

“Ride me, Jay,” he growled.

Damn. I closed my eyes and leaned back into him, forcing him to support my weight while I did as he commanded. I wrapped my right hand around my cock knowing I was close to losing it, when again he smacked it away. I smacked back at his thigh and heard his rumble of laughter reverberate through his chest in amusement.

“Let me do it, honey.”

Peter wrapped a strong hand around my member and stroked me firmly, his hips steadily pounding my ass in perfect rhythm. I felt my orgasm approach like a freight train, the strength and power of it throwing my body into spasms of pleasure. I rode out wave after wave until I was literally wilted against my lover’s chest. Peter kissed my neck and massaged my shoulders repeatedly. Then he pushed me gently forward, his cock still rock hard inside me, demanding its own release. I lay flat on my stomach and arched my ass slightly in invitation. Peter’s muscular arms caged my head as he moved inside me taking what he needed. His hips slammed into me mercilessly until his body stiffened and his arms collapsed, folding me in a fierce embrace as orgasm claimed him.

He lay on top of me motionless for a full minute before oxygen deprivation became an issue and I was forced to alert him. He shifted his weight up on his arms and ever so gently unattached himself from me, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. I mustered up the strength to peek over at my bed partner lying beside me. Peter ran his hand through his hair, his gaze fixed skyward lost in thought. I hoped he didn’t regret what we’d done. I knew I didn’t.

“What are you thinking?” I’m not good with uncertainty. If he wanted out, then I didn’t want a prolonged, weird exchange.

Peter turned his head toward me and smiled, his eyes bright with humor.

“You like to talk, don’t you?”

“I guess. I was wondering if you’re okay. That’s all.”

His grin faded, and I had a moment of dread. Great.
Here’s where it gets uncomfortable
, I thought.

“Come here.”

Peter leaned over me and kissed my nose sweetly before gathering my six-foot-three frame to his body, forcing my head down on his chest. I poked my head up to look at him from that somewhat awkward angle. The grin was back and his eyes were twinkling. I smiled in return and laid my head back down on his chest, relishing the feel of his fingers in my hair and the steady beat of his heart at my cheek.

A
FLASH
of lightning followed closely by a loud rumble of thunder startled me awake a short while later. My head was still plastered to my lover’s broad chest as my eyes shot open. A short nap may have delayed the awkward, but it still had to be dealt with. This may have been a one-time experience, but unlike my night with Justin, I was going to have to see Peter again. At work, no less. I mentally berated myself for succumbing to temptation. I would surely pay for this one way or another. It had been amazing but we’d both made it clear that this was something we needed to get out of our systems. One time or one night. I wasn’t clear on that, but either way, I felt unsure and maybe a little cheated somehow.

“You awake?” Peter asked as he ran his big hands over my back in a sweetly soothing gesture.

“Mm hm.” I lifted my head and peeked up at him.

“Sounds stormy out there.”

“Yeah.” Talk about the weather. Good idea. It was always a safe topic.

“What’s going on in your head? I get the impression that it’s better when you talk. You look like you’re thinking way too hard.” His voice was light with humor, but it was uncanny how correct he was. I was dangerous when my mind was left to wander aimlessly.

“I was thinking about food,” I lied. “Are you hungry?”

Peter didn’t answer. Maybe he was trying to figure out the best way out of my house without being unkind. Or maybe he was going to humor me and….

“Yes, I’m a little hungry. I would suggest going out for something, but it doesn’t sound very inviting out there.”

“Well, lucky for you I had just come from the market before you arrived and was going to make myself a little something. There’s plenty for two. Come on.”

I playfully leaned on his thigh as I rose from the bed. I decided to play this casually. That was what he wanted. If I stuck to a safe subject like food, I could pull it off and we just might avoid any real discomfort.

We made our way downstairs a short while later. I had slipped on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Peter’s clothes were still damp from the rain, so I gave him some sweats and a tee to borrow, forgetting that there really is nothing sexier than a lover wearing your clothes. We were close enough in height that he was able to comfortably don my things, but Peter was definitely thicker and more muscular than me so my T-shirt was a snug fit across his broad muscular chest. A sexy snug fit. I gulped and turned my attention to the vegetables I was rinsing for our salad. I’d left the music on earlier, and Beyoncé’s soulful voice accompanied the steady beat of rain against the kitchen windowpane. It felt cozy and inviting, like being nestled in a warm cocoon.

“You like to cook?” Peter asked politely as he sipped the chardonnay I’d just poured him.

“Yes. I love it. It’s therapeutic somehow, you know?”

Why did I say that? It sounded weird. Now I’d be forced to explain the calming properties of chopping onions. I wasn’t up to the task. Not tonight. I was feeling the strangest mix of physical contentment and inner turmoil. I knew anything but the most innocuous conversation coming from my mouth would be dangerous.

“I do know.”

I looked across my small kitchen island at him in surprise. He was sitting on one of the barstools pulled up to the island, one arm draped casually over the back of the chair while the other rested on the granite surface. He looked perfectly at ease, much in the same way he did in a boardroom meeting. He also looked sincere. I forgot what we’d been talking about, though. I was so easily distracted around him. Damn.

“What do you know?”

Peter laughed, his eyes squinting in easy humor.

“I was agreeing with you that cooking is therapeutic. Or at least that it can be.” He was letting me off the hook, although there was a spark in his eyes that told me he was very tempted to tease me.

“Do you like to cook?” I paid close attention to my veggies. They provided a good excuse not to make eye contact with my handsome guest.

“Yes. My mom is—”

“Italian. Oh, is she an amazing cook? I love Italian food. Real Italian food, mind you. Where is she from in Italy? I loved the food in Florence when I was there.”

Silence. Only Destiny’s Child singing to me in the background. Didn’t he hear me? I looked up at Peter, who was wearing a highly amused grin.

“What is so funny?”

“You. I noticed it earlier. You talk a lot. One sentence runs into the next. It’s kind of….”

“Annoying? Sorry, I’ll try to slow down. I can’t help myself some—”

“Shh. I was going to say cute.”

“Oh.”

“My mother is from Cortona. It’s a small hilltop village about forty-five minutes from Florence by train.”

“I know exactly where that is! I was there, believe it or not. It’s tiny. It seems like one of those places where you literally know everyone in your town. Does she?”

“What?”

“Know everyone?”

“Well, not anymore. She’s lived in the States now for thirty-plus years. She has a brother who still lives there but everyone else is gone now.”

“Oh. Do you go back at all now to visit your uncle?”

“It’s been at least five years since I’ve been back to Italy. My parents go every year, but I can’t take more than a week off at a time, so vacations are hard.”

“Where was the last place you went that you loved… vacation-wise?”

I loved to travel. Just thinking about the thrill of discovery in travel excited me to no end. I could talk about places I’d been to and wanted to go to for hours. We’d discussed traveling at the dinner Aaron set us up at, but we hadn’t gone into any depth. I was curious about what someone who travels as much as Peter does for work would have to say about his experiences. Some people hate it, which floors me.

“Actually it could be someplace you stumbled on for work too or with a friend,” I added as a disclaimer.

“Hmm. I don’t… Santa Fe.” Peter slapped his hand down on the island in decisive manner, and leaned back comfortably in his chair.

“Santa Fe? New Mexico?” I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes with the back of my hand as I peered over at him.

“Yes, it’s a special place. I can’t really describe it, but….”

“Try,” I insisted. I loved the deep timbre of his voice. I’d rather hear him tell me about a place I’d never been than listen to my own jumbled attempts at conversation. Plus I enjoyed his company. He was proving an easier companion than I would have thought.

“O-kay….” He hesitated.

“What is the food like? What about the nightlife? The people? The architecture? What makes it special?” I was waving my knife as I warmed up to my subject. Really. It wasn’t that hard to figure out why you liked a particular place.

Peter laughed, throwing his head back. I set the knife aside and put a hand on my hip, cocking my head to the side as I waited to find out what the hell was so amusing.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you… well, maybe I am. But it’s just because you’re….”

“Talkative?”

“Unique.”

Oh. I liked that. I smiled and picked my knife up. I waved it once in the air in his general direction letting him know I was still waiting for his answer. He wasn’t going to distract me this time.

“Let’s see. It was about a year ago that I was there. I had business in Albuquerque and a day to kill in between meetings so I took the train to Santa Fe. I was only there for a day, but it made an impression. The food rivaled my mom’s cooking. And yes to your earlier question… she’s a great cook.” He winked at me before continuing. “The colors were what struck me the most. I’d never seen a sky so blue. The market umbrellas and bright pottery… I can’t really describe it. Just brilliant. There are quite a few churches in town, and some are hundreds of years old. But there are also many indigenous people. People who truly belong to the land, if that makes sense. The result is a perfect communion of nature and religion. The entire place reminded me of an outdoor cathedral. A spiritual place.”

Peter’s voice was hypnotic. He had obviously been enthralled with his short visit, but it wasn’t Santa Fe that had me looking quizzically across the island at my guest. It was his sudden burst of passion. The only other time I’d ever heard him speak so openly and passionately about something that didn’t have to do with work was when he asked me to meet him at his club. I swallowed hard and averted my eyes back to my task. I had to be careful around him. He was showing me a side to him that I could very well fall for.

“I’d love to go someday.” I tried for nonchalant, but knew my tone was off.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What is the last best vacation spot you loved?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. It was an endearing gesture. Silly and sweet. I chuckled as I pulled out two plates for our dinner. I had made a salad niçoise with fresh tuna, hard-boiled eggs, green beans, red onions, and tiny new potatoes. Fresh-baked bread was set in a basket nearby. I picked up the bottle of chardonnay and topped off Peter’s glass and my own before taking the barstool next to him.