Jacob’s own hands rushed down to help him, but Race slapped them away impatiently and dropped down to his knees. Jacob spared a brief moment for being thankful that he didn’t have any close and nosy neighbors, but then all thought fled when Race wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and sucked.
The wet heat of his mouth was almost torturous, and Jacob scrambled to find something to hold on to. His hands skated over the top of Race’s buzzed hair for a moment before he forced them away to claw at the wood behind him. Race reached up and grabbed one of Jacob’s hands, placing it on the back of his own head and pressing in silent permission.
Jacob felt his heart skip a beat, but then it was back to racing hard and fast in his chest as he cupped the back of Race’s head in his palm and gave a short, shallow thrust of his hips. Race hummed low in his throat, and the vibration sent chills down Jacob’s spine. He pushed forward harder, forced his cock farther down Race’s throat. Race swallowed, and Jacob couldn’t help himself after that.
His free hand went up to clutch at his own hair as he used the other to maneuver Race on his cock. One minute he pressed in deep, could feel the heat of Race’s breath on his hair and his tongue lapping at his base, and then he would pull him back, let him suckle at the head for a second before doing it all over again. Jacob was intoxicated by the very idea of having Race, strong muscular Race, even a tiny bit under his control, even when it was painfully obvious that Race allowed it to happen.
He’d been so on edge around Race for so long that he knew he wasn’t going to last long, couldn’t last long, not with the way Race sucked him hard and fast and then soft and slow. Not with the way Race took him deep and hummed around his shaft, only to pull back and lave the head of his cock with his tongue. Jacob could feel it building, could feel his balls drawing up and tightening, and the hand on the back of Race’s head moved to his shoulder to push frantically in warning.
Race’s mouth came off of his cock with an obscene noise and then his hands were in its place, trailing up and down his shaft, stroking him fast and confident as his thumb flirted with his slit.
“Come on, Jacob. Want to see you. Been wanting to see you for months.” Race practically crooned at him, and the sight of him there, normally taciturn and dour-looking Race on his knees, eyes blown wide from desire and lips red from sucking his cock, was too much for Jacob. His eyes slammed closed of their own accord, and he felt the orgasm punch its way through his body as he spilled over the tight circle of Race’s finger while Race continued to croon at him almost sweetly.
Breathless, hair disheveled and sweaty, Jacob stared down at Race in shocked elation and was able to see the moment Race’s expression changed from lust drugged to panicked.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” Race hissed as he scrambled to his feet and Jacob was too shell-shocked to do more than reach out for him with grasping hands that fell just short.
“Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” Race whirled around on his heel and practically ran towards his still idling truck.
Jacob could only watch, confused, with his cock exposed to the night air and still damp from Race’s mouth, as Race threw his truck into gear and pealed out of his driveway.
After a few moments, when his legs finally stopped shaking, Jacob wandered, dazed and barely able to keep himself from running into walls, into his house. Unable to focus on anything besides what had just happened he made his way to his room so he could collapse, still breathless, onto his bed. Questions and concerns chased each other across his mind until he fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter Three
The next morning Jacob was groggy and yet strangely hopeful when the memories of his encounter with Race rushed back in on him. A sense of heady excitement threatened to overwhelm him, and he fumbled his way through his morning shower and calling a cab to get him to work. Jacob was barely able to wait until the bakery was open, and he was on his second cup of coffee before he picked up his cell phone and punched in the number for Race’s shop with shaky fingers. He wanted to get the call in before Kyle arrived, knew that his friend would mock him mercilessly if he caught him.
He drummed his fingers against the counter top as the line rang and rang, and Jacob could feel a frown begin to pull down his mouth because Race normally opened the shop early. He drifted out of the kitchen and to the bakery’s front windows to peer across the street and felt his brows arch high when he realized that the auto shop was dark, still locked up tight and obviously unoccupied. Since it was obvious no one was going to pick up he ended the call and with one last lingering glance, forced himself to go back to his day.
Later that morning, much later than normal, he heard the sound of the wrecker pull in across the street and forced himself to ignore the way Kyle chuckled knowingly at him when he practically pressed himself against the window in order to get a look. The bakery van looked strange hiked up on the back of the wrecker, but Jacob found himself waiting with baited breath to get a glimpse of the driver. He was hoping that since it was so much later than normal Race would be behind the wheel but to his disappointment it was Timothy.
Determination settled in his stomach as he wiped his hands on his apron and called over his shoulder to Kyle who was still watching him from behind the register, amusement heavy on his face.
“Be back in a few minutes, Kyle. Got to see a man about a van.”
“Oh yeah, I bet you do!” Jacob waved a dismissive hand at Kyle and headed out the bakery to jog across the street.
Timothy, the older steely-eyed man that Race had hired immediately after he opened the shop turned to greet him when he was about halfway across the parking lot.
“Stine. Boss said you might stop by today.” Timothy’s words brought Jacob up short for a second as his heart skipped a beat at the thought of Race talking about him. He shook himself, quietly disgusted by the fact that he was acting so juvenile, even if it was in his own head.
“And uh, where is Race today? Normally he opens up the shop early.” Jacob tried to sound casual, but he could tell by the look on Timothy’s face that he hadn’t actually succeeded.
“Not sure. He called in early this morning, told me about your van, which is gonna take at least two days to fix at least, and then said he wouldn’t be in for a few days and I should get started on it.”
“Oh. Well, in that case then just let me know when the van’s done. You know where to find me.”
“Sure thing. Like I said it should be about two days, but it could take a bit longer. I’ll drop by the bakery or give you a call depending on the time.”
“Right. Well I’ll see you later, Timothy.” Jacob tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice but the sickening realization that Race was probably avoiding him hit him rather hard. He shuffled back across the street, ignoring the way Kyle stared at him with an arched brow when he dragged his way back into the bakery and back to work.
After a few more attempts to get in touch with Race that ended in failure Jacob finally forced himself to stop. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and buried himself in his work as he tried desperately not to drive himself crazy by overanalyzing the situation. He was sure Race would come around soon, and he comforted himself with the knowledge that they’d have to speak about the van sooner or later.
When Timothy showed up at the bakery instead of Race, keys to the van and the bill for the job clutched in one hand, Jacob bit back on the anger that had slowly begun to grow in his chest. Race avoiding him made Jacob feel almost ashamed, made him think that maybe Race was disgusted with him or with what had happened between them. He pushed the thought from his mind because he hadn’t forced Race into anything, Race had been the one to start it all, had been the one to come after him, to kiss him, to push him up against his front door and swallow him down.
It still bothered him, still made him ache with curiosity and the desperate desire for a repeat performance, for the chance to feel Race’s mouth on him. He fell asleep at night and dreamed of gett
ing the opportunity to return the favor, to fall down to his knees and swallow Race down to the root. To know what it felt like to be trapped underneath the strength Race’s calloused hands had hinted at that night. To take that strength and watch it shudder and break as he took Race apart with his mouth and his hands.
Jacob wanted it all, wanted to do so much to Race and have it done to him in turn, but the unanswered questions he had about Race’s behavior put a bit of a damper on his numerous fantasies.
Still Race couldn’t avoid him forever—the town was entirely too small for that—so he’d get his answers one way or the other eventually and then he’d see if convincing Race to act out all of their hopefully mutual fantasies was actually possible.
Chapter Four
It was the giggling that prompted Jacob to poke his head out of the kitchen sometime in the mid-afternoon a few days later. It was loud and continuous and he had the curiosity of a misbehaving toddler so he was immediately drawn to the sound. He had flour in his hair and on his face and he was wiping his hands on the front of his apron as he made his way out of the kitchen and around the large counter. There was a passel of women who were converged around the two tables directly in front of the shop’s large front windows. When he got close enough to see what they were all staring at his jaw dropped open and he could practically feel the drool pool in his mouth.
Across the street, standing beside a massive soap-covered pick-up truck was Race. He was shirtless and wet and looked so good Jacob was convinced in that single moment that the man was sent to destroy him. Even with all the unanswered questions and unwanted angst he couldn’t deny the hot bubble of want and need that built up in his stomach, the way his heart skipped a beat and his cock twitched at the sight of Race. Jacob was pretty sure that nothing would ever change that, that he’d be violently attracted to Race for the rest of his life even if he never got the chance to touch him again.
As Jacob watched, Race bent over and brought the water hose up to drench the back of his neck and his short-cropped hair. Even from across the street Jacob could see how the water lovingly slid over Race’s skin and the way his jeans pulled tight across his ass. Jacob shut his mouth with a click, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was in the middle of his bakery, surrounded by customers and half hard inside of his jeans. He gave fervent thanks to the apron he always wore for its feeble but entirely appreciated added layer of protection.
Jacob watched as Race straightened and turned, and one of his hands came up to scrub over the top of his bristly hair in a move that sent water drops flying into the air around him. Jacob almost swallowed his tongue because he realized for the first time that Race had ink. There was a large swirl of black high up on the left side of his chest and even though Jacob was too far away to make out the design the knowledge that it was there at all caused heat to spiral through his veins. Jacob wanted to get his mouth on it, wanted to trace it with his tongue and then suck a bruise deep into the middle of the design. He wanted to see what it would look like striped with white, his cum dripping off the defined planes of Race’s chest.
“That’s just not fair.” Jacob didn’t remember giving his mouth permission to open but the complaint slipped out anyways and a dozen heads turned quickly in his direction. He spared a moment to feel embarrassed, but he quickly found that the women were all showing various expressions of agreement with him so he pushed it aside. He’d never hidden his sexuality even if he’d never felt the need to announce it, and he wasn’t ashamed of enjoying the view.
“It’s like he’s in a fucking music video.” Jacob knew he sounded frustrated then but there was a chorus of sympathetic and agreeing noises from around the tables.
“More like a porno.” Jacob recognized Misty Blake’s voice in the crowd.
“Trust me if it was a porno all of us would be much more satisfied.” He couldn’t help it. The words once again slipped out without his consent, but he knew they were true. He had the memory of Race’s lips wrapped around his cock to back them up, but he was guarding those memories jealously and felt no need to share.
Just then one of Race’s hands came up to shade his eyes from the sun as he looked across the street in the direction of the bakery. Jacob yelped and ducked away as the women scrambled to look like they weren’t all ogling him from the large bay windows. He darted back towards the kitchen, heart pounding as Kyle’s laughter once again rang in his ears. It seemed as if all Kyle did anymore was laugh at him.
After a few minutes he was able to get himself back under control and he was wrist deep in dough when Kyle poked his head around the corner.
“Incoming!” Kyle moved back around to his place behind the register without another word.
Confused and curious, Jacob put the dough aside, quickly scrubbed his hands in the large steel sink and then peeked his head around the open doorway to look out into the bakery. He sucked in a sharp breath because once again staring directly at him from across the counter was Race.
“Jacob.” Race’s face was hard, lips tense and jaw set even as droplets of water still rolled down his stubble-covered cheek and neck to disappear into the collar of the damp black t-shirt he, unfortunately, wore.
“Race.” Jacob straightened his spine and set his shoulders, determined not to let on this time just how much simply seeing Race could affect him.
“We need to talk.” Race was as blunt as always, bright blue eyes steady and serious as he stared at Jacob in that serious way he had.
“Now?” Jacob was slightly taken aback. He’d waited days to talk to Race, had called him more times than he was proud of and had watched out the windows of the shop like Race would spontaneously appear if he looked hard enough. It threw him a bit that after all of that Race would show up as soon as he resigned himself to facing the possibility that any conversations between them would be a long time in coming.
“Yes.” For the first time Race looked a bit unsure, his thin lips pulling down into a frown before he forced his face back into a neutral expression.
Jacob had a sinking feeling he knew where the conversations was headed, and he almost wanted to run away, to rip off his apron and run out of the bakery in an attempt to keep things from playing out the way he was sure they were about to. Instead he calmly untied his apron, hung it on the hook by the door, and motioned for Race to follow him into the massive walk-in pantry in an effort to afford them both a small amount of privacy for what Jacob was sure was going to be an awkward conversation.
“Alright. What is it you wanted to talk about?” He kept his voice even, but he could feel the anger that he’d done his best to bite back before rising up. He’d spent so much time worrying about what had happened that he was aching to let it all out.
“Look, the other night at your house, what happened was a mistake. I just … it shouldn’t have happened, and I wanted to apologize.” Race rubbed his hand across his hair in a move that Jacob was beginning to realize meant the other man was nervous or unsure.
“You’re sorry?” Jacob hoped he sounded half as disbelieving as he felt.
“Yes. I shouldn’t have … what happened … it was wrong.”
Jacob stood frozen for a moment, anger bubbling up inside of him until he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“You’re an asshole.” Race’s brows arched high, and his lips thinned even further, and Jacob decided then and there that he wasn’t going to hold back any longer.
“Jacob…”
“No. You know what? This is fucked up. If you didn’t want to see me again or if you regretted what happened then you should have said something. You should have been adult enough to call me or walk across the damn street and tell me so face to face. Not hide behind Timothy and avoid my calls all because you had some sort of gay crisis and then decided that you didn’t want me after all. I really thought you were too good to do something so goddamn immature.”
Jacob, face flushed with anger and the fine twinges of hurt, moved forward to push past Race so he cou
ld storm out of the pantry, but Race’s hand clamped down on his shoulder before he could get far. The mechanic spun him around and then crowded him against one of the shelves that lined the wall, the wooden edge digging into the vulnerable skin of his stomach.
“You think this is because I don’t want you?” Race breathed the words into his ear, voice low and gravely and his breath hot.
“What else was I supposed to think when you wouldn’t answer my calls? When you sent Timothy over here instead?” Jacob huffed the words out. He used his anger to fight the urge to focus all of his attention on the way Race’s body pressed so closely against his own, to give into the need to press his ass back into Race’s heat.
Race took the decision out of his hands when he slotted his hips firmly against the swell of Jacob’s ass. Jacob went still and his mind blanked out because all he could focus on was the way the hard line of Race’s cock was pressing against him, on the fact that Race wanted him.
“Wanting you has nothing to do with it. Wanting you has never been the problem, Jacob. I want you now.” Race twisted his hips, and Jacob couldn’t hold back the small moan that broke through his guard or the way he pushed back to meet the friction.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t have done what I did. I was going to take it slow, was going to ask you out when I brought you the van. I was going to do it properly, Jacob, and when I messed up I panicked and ran and then I didn’t know how to fix it.” Race backed away from him suddenly but before Jacob could complain about the loss of Race’s heat he’d been turned around again until he could stare directly into Race’s eyes. Race’s free hand came up and cupped his jaw, and when Race ran his thumb over Jacob’s lower lip he darted out his tongue to lick at the rough pad. Race’s eyes darkened, and his cheeks flushed, and he pressed his thumb farther into Jacob’s mouth. Jacob opened to him, raked the pad of his thumb with his teeth and then soothed the light sting with a swirl of his tongue and a gentle suck.
The Baker Gets His Man Page 2
