by Carly Marie
I’d been serious about inviting the kids, but if he was ready to go on a date with just the two of us, I wasn’t going to turn it down. “I’ll send her a text and ask. I’ll let you know when she tells me.”
Mark smiled. “Awesome. I’ve got a phone call to make. Tomorrow? Around six?”
“Sounds good.”
Mark left with a bounce in his step that hadn’t been there the day before, his perfectly shaped ass taunting me until he disappeared from sight. My peanut butter and jelly sandwich no longer sounded as good as it had twenty minutes earlier.
CHAPTER 12
Mark
The phone rang four times. I was a moron for trying to call Marcel at one fifteen on a Friday afternoon. Not only did he own the most exclusive steakhouse in Nashville, he was also the chef. At this hour, he had to have been swamped.
I’d met Marcel when we were five on the first day of kindergarten. We’d become best friends before lunchtime. That friendship spanned all of school, through undergrad in Kentucky and even across continents as he studied all over Europe.
“Holy shit, Marky. I heard you were back in town!” Marcel’s booming voice took me by surprise and I almost dropped the phone.
“Yeah. Been back a few weeks now. Sorry to call you Friday afternoon. I should have thought about the time.”
Marcel had always talked with his hands, so I could picture him waving them around as he brushed off my concern. “For you, I’ll make time. I was going to give you a few more weeks to settle in, then drive my ass down to that little town of yours and give you hell for not calling. Thanks for saving me the trouble! What’s going on with you?”
And if that wasn’t a loaded question. “I’m going to be heading up to Nashville tomorrow,” I volunteered. “I know it’s last minute, but I was hoping to stop in?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. When Marcel was quiet, even for a moment, I got nervous. “Who’ya bringing?” he demanded. “’Cause you aren’t calling me on a Friday night asking if you can come in on a Saturday if you’re not bringing someone special. Who is she?”
“He. His name is Jeff.”
Silence again. “Wow, I never thought you’d get with another guy after what’s-his-name in undergrad.”
Marcel knew his name—he refused to say it. What’s-his-name was actually Dwayne. Dwayne had lit up the sociology lecture hall I’d been taking the first semester of my sophomore year. He had a laugh that pulled me to him and these gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and flawless dark skin. I’d only recently discovered I was attracted to both men and women, and Dwayne drew me in. We started hanging out after class, then meeting up before class. Before long we were having lunch or dinner together a few times a week, chatting online every chance we got.
Then one night, he invited me over. Things went from friendly to hot and heavy in the blink of an eye. We couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. It got to the point that we were spending almost every waking moment that we weren’t in class with each other. He’d been the first guy I’d kissed, the first and only man I’d ever given a blow job, and the first and only man I’d ever penetrated. When it came to sex, despite him topping me a few times, Dwayne was an insatiable bottom, and at twenty the frequent sex was all that really mattered to me.
Everything came to a screeching halt one night when I asked him to go out with Marcel, Marcel’s girlfriend, and me. He’d refused, told me he’d rather stay in. He didn’t want to have to keep his hands off me. When I told him that Marcel knew we were together and we didn’t have to hide, Dwayne flipped out. He’d yelled at me for betraying him, for outing him without his permission. Then he’d driven the dagger in a little harder when he’d angrily spat that he didn’t want to be known as the “queer dude.” He’d told me that no one would take a gay doctor seriously and I’d never have a career if I came out because people would be afraid they’d “catch” my sexuality. In just a few sentences, he’d cut me to the quick while simultaneously making me ashamed and fearful of falling in love with a man.
I’d had the common sense to break it off with him that night, but getting over Dwayne hadn’t been easy. He’d made me question my sexuality, my ability to be out to anyone. Over twenty years later, I was still struggling to put the doubts he’d placed in my mind behind me. I could see now that he’d hated himself and struggled with his own sexuality, but he’d dragged me down with him. Thanks to Dwayne, all these years later his words still had enough of a hold on me that I’d overreacted and hurt Jeff.
In twenty years, a lot had changed in the world. Even this little corner of Tennessee had shown me nothing but love and acceptance. The bar had a rainbow flag on the door. Jeff’s garage sported the same flag on the picture window beside the door. I’d seen it at the drugstore and the pizza shop as well. Jeff was out and I hadn’t heard one negative thing said about him. Yet, when I’d kissed him, I’d let my fear of the bigots, the people who might hate us—hate me—infiltrate the moment. The what-ifs had bombarded me and I saw my sexuality costing me, at the very least, my job.
I still had fears, but they weren’t about what I was feeling. My concerns came in the form of two little boys who had already dealt with more heartache than any kids should have to. I feared letting someone else in only to have my heart broken again. Dwayne had done a number on me, then Nicole had damaged my perception of happily ever after. Two relationships, two failures. They had left me broken, certain that love wasn’t worth the risk.
Then Jeff appeared, full of energy, smiles, laughs, and simply excited to be there in the moment. It didn’t matter if it was wrapping gifts or cheering at a basketball game, he was all in. And he’d already begun to thaw that ice that had formed around my heart. But if we were going to have any shot in hell of love, I was going to have to go all in. I couldn’t guarantee it would be easy, I didn’t know what the outcome would be, but I had to try. If I didn’t put myself out there, I’d never know.
So this call to Marcel, it was me throwing caution to the wind and giving whatever the hell was going to happen with Jeff a try.
“Yup. I met a guy here. He owns the auto repair shop in town. His car broke down, and I rescued him.”
Marcel’s laughter was so loud, I had to pull the phone from my ear. “You had to rescue the mechanic because his car broke down? Merde, what are the odds?”
“According to him, pretty damn high. It’s a classic car his grandfather handed down to him. It sounds like it’s cursed but don’t tell that to Jeff. He’s convinced Louie will outlive him.”
Marcel laughed even harder. “So, you want to bring your man to my restaurant tomorrow?”
I nodded, despite Marcel being unable to see me, then remembered we were on the phone. “Yes. Please.”
“First time in six fucking years you’ve even talked about a human being who wasn’t a patient or related to you. Do you really think I’d ever tell you no? There will be a table waiting for you. But I need to know a little more about your man, Jeff. What’s he like?”
I scratched my head, thinking about the meals we’d shared already. He liked meatloaf, so I knew he wasn’t a vegetarian. “He doesn’t like mushrooms!” I blurted out when I thought of the pile of sliced mushrooms that had been left on his plate at the Chinese restaurant the night before. “He eats red meat.”
“Dieu merci! Thank god you didn’t end up with a vegetarian.”
I really would have broken that chef’s heart if he couldn’t cook with meat or meat products. “He mentioned something about not liking seafood—maybe that was just fish on pizza? I’m not sure. It was an offhand comment.”
Marcel huffed. “You win some, you lose some. What else do you know about him?”
“Oh, he loves chocolate cake.” Just thinking about the way Jeff had eaten that chocolate cake had me adjusting my dick. He’d practically tongue-fucked that spoon.
“I’ve got this recipe for a killer soufflé. Oh, macarons. My sister made these dark chocolate macarons with a ras
pberry filling. They were to die for!”
“Chocolate cake, Marcel. I’m sure the soufflé and the macarons are delicious, but I don’t know a lot about him. However, I saw him eat this chocolate cake at the pizza joint last weekend, and it was an almost orgasmic experience.”
“Chocolate. Cake.” Marcel repeated like he’d just been told to serve a well-done steak.
“Chocolate cake.”
Marcel cursed me in French. I couldn’t pick up all the words, but I’d picked up enough to know he wasn’t happy with Jeff’s choice of dessert. When he got it out of his system, he took a deep breath. “What time will you be here? I’ll let the front of house know.”
“Six thirty.”
“See you then.”
We hung up and I let myself think about what I was about to do. I was going to take Jeff to Marcel’s. I was going to go on a date with a man.
As I thought about Marcel shaking his head in disgust while making a chocolate cake, the image of Jeff licking the spoon at Rizzi’s came back to me. He’d had no clue what he’d done to me that night. I’d left with an erection in my jeans, and I’d gone home and had to jerk off before going to bed. Just recalling that moment had my cock thickening in my pants.
I reached down and palmed the bulge between my legs. It wasn’t going to be ignored for long. Unfortunately, I was sitting in my office at home, and the boys were in the next room watching TV. My mom had dropped them off at the house after lunch and we were on our own for the rest of the day. Grandma’s babysitting services were done until after the New Year. Thankfully, Jenna had been excited to babysit the following evening; I just needed to work out the details with her at some point in the next twenty-four hours.
I rocked my hips forward slightly, dragging my hard cock along my palm, which had come to rest at the front of my dress pants. These pants were not accommodating enough to get aroused in, but there was little to be done about it. Once I got aroused, my mind decided to wander down dirty recesses I hadn’t thought about in years. I missed the collection of dildos and plugs I’d had in college. After Dwayne and I broke up, I’d gotten rid of them, too ashamed to even admit I’d enjoyed being stretched and filled.
My fingers found the laptop keyboard, and before I could overthink my search, I had typed “anal plug” into the search bar. The number of hits was astounding. Twenty minutes later, I had two dildos, an anal plug, and a cock ring ordered, and an erection that would not be ignored any longer. The cock ring had been an impulse buy, but the model wearing it had been hot and his thick uncut cock had jutted out from his body in the most beautifully obscene way. Fuck if I knew if I’d ever use it, but if it made my cock look half that sexy, it was at least worth having on hand.
I poked my head out into the living room to find Thomas and Eli engrossed in a video game. Normally, I’d tell them to do something else, but I needed twenty minutes to myself. “Boys, I’m going to go get a shower,” I called as I walked down the back hallway that led to the first floor master bedroom.
“Mm-hmm,” they responded, though I could hear them mashing buttons and yelling at the screen.
I turned the water in my shower as hot as I could stand it as I stripped off my clothes and deposited them in the laundry basket. My underwear already had a large wet patch where the head of my dick had been resting. Even the light cotton material felt like it was too much pressure on my heavy balls and aching cock, and I couldn’t lose them fast enough.
My cock stretched out in front of my body when I freed it from my underwear. I sighed in relief as it finally had room to grow to its full seven inches. My hand had already wrapped around it before I’d stepped into the spray. I would have loved to have drawn the moment out, lain across my bed and stroked myself slowly, maybe explored my hole a little more. Now that I remembered how good it felt to be filled, it was like my body couldn’t forget. Unfortunately, I had been dealing with some form of arousal since I’d walked into the garage to talk to Jeff. Then shopping for sex toys had damn near driven me to the end of my patience. With two boys in the living room, I didn’t have the luxury of time.
Body wash would have to do, and I squeezed a liberal amount into the palm of my hand and began stroking rapidly. Just because I didn’t have a lot of time didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the time I did have. My free hand went to my balls, rolling them gently, then tugging at them. I kept my exploration on the good side of painful, but when I began to move the hand wrapped around my cock faster, I had to abandon my balls in exchange for muffling the moans that were threatening to explode from my mouth. I frantically pumped my cock as my orgasm built rapidly, then bit down on my knuckles as rope after rope of cum exploded against the subway-tiled wall.
In the end, I fell back against the far wall, panting for breath and sweating despite the shower running. I needed to clean up and get back out to my kids, but I couldn’t deny the pull to my bed was strong. It took effort, but I eventually rinsed off and caught my breath. I even managed to make it down the steps in a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt not long after I’d finished in the shower.
CHAPTER 13
Jeff
It was time to admit I was overwhelmed. I’d stood in my closet for five minutes sorting through clothes but still had absolutely no idea how to dress. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but I also didn’t want it to look like I wasn’t trying at all. Come to think of it, Mark had been vague at best about where we were going for dinner.
Shit. I needed to know how to dress. It was insane to be this worked up over a date at my age, but it felt important. I gave up on an outfit and texted Mark before going to the bathroom.
Where are we going for dinner?
I was in the middle of peeing when a response came.
The steakhouse near the hospital in Nashville.
The phone slipped out of my hand when I read the text, and I batted at it to keep it from falling into the toilet. Texting while peeing was a bad idea. The phone hit the side of the vanity with a loud crack and my stomach sank. After washing my hands, I picked it up slowly, afraid to see what I’d find when I turned it over. My entire body sagged in relief when I saw the unbroken screen.
Then I could focus again on dinner. The steakhouse in town was one of the most expensive restaurants in or around Nashville. And from what I’d heard, there was a waiting list for reservations.
As in Marcel’s?
Mark must have had the phone in his hand because the response came almost immediately.
Yes. Is that a problem?
No, no problem.
Except I didn’t think I owned anything nice enough to wear, but with only an hour to spare, I didn’t have time to go shopping. Back to the closet.
“Really?” I asked the clothes. “How the fuck did he get reservations at Marcel’s?”
Seth’s voice rang out from somewhere outside of my bedroom. “Dad, are you okay?”
I sighed and stepped out of the closet, still just wearing a pair of underwear. Were these underwear acceptable for Marcel’s? “I’m fine. Mark just told me we’re having dinner at Marcel’s.”
“Marcel’s? Isn’t that that steakhouse near Nashville where a lobster costs almost a hundred bucks?”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “What? Where did you hear that?” Shit, I really was going to need to change my underwear.
“My math teacher said her husband took her there for their anniversary. She used the menu for a cost comparison and markup analysis. It was a really interesting class.”
I blinked at my son. He was frighteningly smart, so of course he found it interesting. I, on the other hand, paid someone to balance my books at the garage. But accountants and hundred-dollar lobsters aside, I needed to find an outfit.
“Get out of here. I need to find something to wear.”
“Stop flipping out. You’ll be fine. Sean’s mom will be here soon to pick me up. Oh, and Jenna told me to tell you that she headed over to Mark’s. Something about
wanting to get there early and not feel rushed. So she’s gone and I’m leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have fun tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Seth called something out but I was already in my closet changing my underwear. Chill the fuck out, idiot. It wasn’t like Marcel’s would check my underwear, but my nerves made me think it was important. Seconds later, I heard the front door shut and I was officially alone to figure out what the hell I was wearing.
“Fuck!” The quiet house didn’t seem to care that I was freaking out, both internally and externally. “Focus, Jeff. You can do this. Find a pair of nice pants.” One step at a time—I had this. I dug through my dress pants. God, how long had it been since I’d worn some of them? I needed to clean out my closet. And maybe go shopping for better clothes. Later, though. For now, I had more pressing issues.
I flipped through my pants four times before I found a pair of gray slacks. They were nicer than a pair of jeans but not quite as nice as suit pants. I didn’t even remember buying them. Where in the hell had they come from? It took some work—they were a slimmer fit and took some effort to get over my thighs and ass—but once they were up, they looked nice.
“Shirt next.” I found a sapphire blue button-up quickly. It was my favorite dress shirt, and with the gray slacks, I thought I looked good. I wished Jenna had still been home. She would have told me honestly how I looked. It took a few minutes to tuck the shirt into the pants and secure everything in place with a black leather belt.
There were still twenty minutes until I was due to leave, so I sorted through my sports coats looking for something to pair with the outfit. I didn’t find a coat I liked, but I found a nice vest that matched the pants and looked good with the shirt. Finding an outfit was more stress than I thought it was worth, but I didn’t want to look like a bum off the street when I met up with Mark.
Before throwing my hands up and telling myself that it was good enough, I spotted a crisp black tie and grabbed it.
