From Boss to Boyfriend, Chapter Eight
“Manhattans and Big Appetites” (Avery POV) Start | Previous | Next
“Knock, knock,” dad bellowed after the chime of the opening elevator. “Guess who I ran into in the park?”
I clapped shut my book and lay it down on the cold, black granite of the kitchen island, rising from my LEM bar stool to greet father. He was grinning when I came around the corner to the entryway of my penthouse. Sweat dripped off the flattened hair on his burly forearms, athletic shirt clinging to his broad chest and running shorts snug enough that I had to avert my gaze. However, it was the sight of the man flanking him that made my jaw drop.
“John fucking Lafferty!” Dad announced, turning to John to clap him on the shoulder, “What are the chances?” I was wondering the same thing, as the freshly remembered taste of the silver fox’s potent cum tickled my tastebuds.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” John said with an easy smile in my direction, his own athletic attire hardly damp on his slender body. “David thought we all might enjoy an aperitif and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Of course not,” I forced myself to say. “I was just a bit surprised, but I’ll mix us a few drinks while you two rinse off.”
“‘Atta boy,” dad said as the two of them advanced into the expansive living room overlooking Central Park, filling the air with the raw testosterone of a man’s exertion. My heart thumped.
“Dad’s predictable, but what’s your poison, John?” I asked, wincing as he squeezed my ass while my father’s back was turned.
“Surprise me.”
I nodded, stepping aside and out of his grasp, “Let’s keep it simple then, three Manhattans coming right up.” I could barely finish the sentence when my father peeled off his shirt, baring a furry barrel of a chest, and John quickly followed suit.
Dad had never been as shy as I might have preferred, but now he relished every opportunity to show off the results of his addition of Ferdinand Ferrari—the famed personal trainer to the stars—to his private staff two years ago. John’s smirk widened as a rosy blush invaded my practiced, stoic expression, but mercifully my father was oblivious to the awkwardness of this moment.
“My boy makes a great Manhattan, John. Better than sex, I always say,” dad boasted, nearly breaking John’s composure as he stifled a snorting laugh. “He missed his calling as a bartender.”
“I can’t wait.” Lafferty grinned back at me as he walked.
I was gladdened for a break in the conversation when the two men made their way toward the sauna and guest bathrooms. I shut my eyes and sucked in a series of deep breaths to steady myself before making my way to the bar.
My fingers trembled as I grabbed a triplet of fine glasses from a cabinet, itching to reach down towards the rigid cock in my British Airways lounge pants. I’d been making Manhattans for my father since I was a small boy, and the familiar task was soothing in that moment. The clink of ice in the large tumbler. The gentle splashes—bourbon, vermouth, and bitters caressing and complementing each other. I closed my eyes as I stirred them all together, tension draining away until a hand slid down the back of my pants.
Firm fingers gripped the soft, bare flesh of my ass, and John rasped in my ear with hot breath, “Looks delicious, boy.” I jolted from my meditation and nearly dropped the drink, startling backward against his warm, white-furred chest and the bulging gray towel wrapped round his waist. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Dad could be back any moment…”
“I know,” the older man grinned as I turned my head, latching his lips to mine and driving a thick forefinger between my cheeks to tease my tightened hole. “Isn’t it exciting?” He growled into my mouth, gripping my neck in his other hand to hold me in place.
I struggled against him, but my hand reflexively found a grip on the growing knob of his cock. My meek attempt to escape just invigorated the man, his hips grinding that slab of manhood against me.
“What do you think he’d do if he came back to you bent over this kitchen counter?” John teased. “What would any man do with an ass so ripe for the taking?”
“Don’t be an asshole.” I shoved him off me, sending him backpedaling a few steps.
Still, Lafferty held that infuriating grin, filled with unshakeable confidence and ravenous entitlement. “I’m just having a little fun.” He planted his hands behind him on the counter and leaned back casually, giving me an unobstructed view of the man’s exquisite body. It was much as I’d always imagined beneath those fine suits, lean and firm flesh with a layer of middle-age pudge and a forest of silver hair from neck to toe. The sight was nearly enough to drive me back into his arms, but dad returned, also clad in a towel around the waist, just in time to stop me.
“Where’re those drinks, Avery? The men are thirsty!” He chuckled, meeting my nervous smile with an oblivious grin as he patted the slight roundness of his muscled belly and let his fingers graze through the forest of dark hair.
“Coming right up.” I deftly strained the chilled liquid into our martini glasses and handed them off to each of the other men. “So, what are we drinking to?”
Lafferty grinned and declared, “To friends, old and new,” nodding to dad and myself respectively. The clink of our glasses was like the shot of a starter pistol, and the bittersweet drink sprinted down my throat.
Dad snorted and teased, “Slow down, son. It’s not a race.” I smiled sheepishly and forced myself to a pace, already feeling the pleasant haze of a well-mixed drink setting in over this awkward encounter. Quietly, we sipped our drinks and gazed out the kitchen windows over a dimming Central Park cast in the warm, soft glow of sunset.
“Did you know, David,” John began, glancing at me with the barest hint of a smirk, “that little Avery has a new beau at the office?”
“A secret suitor, huh?” Dad exclaimed, squeezing my shoulder. “He better be quite the guy to be worthy of my boy. So, when am I meeting him?”
I could scarcely breathe as my chest clenched with anxious irritation, and I hid my crimson cheeks behind the rim of my glass as I stalled for time.
“It’s all very hush, hush, I believe,” Lafferty interceded. “But I’ve always had a sixth sense for these sorts of things.”
“It’s just new,” I managed to add quietly, “nothing much to discuss.”
Dad arched a bushy eyebrow suspiciously but nodded, “Sure, son, but I’m glad you’re getting out there. Just be careful with those office romances. They can get a bit messy.” He grinned.
“How is the new Mrs. Appelbaum, David?” John asked, mercifully shifting the conversation away from me. “I saw her on the cover of Esquire the other day and, ahem,” he winked, “couldn’t resist picking up a copy to peruse later.”
Dad chuckled and leaned back against the counter, arm propped on the black granite, and said, “Absolutely fantastic, John.” He clapped a hand over my ear and joked, “Ear muffs, buddy,” before going on, “imagine waking up every morning with that body in bed next to you. All yours and so eager to please.”
I blushed as I swatted his hand away and protested, “Jesus, dad. We don’t need every detail.”
“I could stand to hear a bit more,” John said with a chortle. “She’s a doll, but the Mrs. doesn’t exactly spark my engine these days.”
“You ever think of getting a newer model?” Dad laughed. “It can make you feel like a brand new man.”
“Nah, the wife and I are happy, but that doesn’t mean a man can’t have a little fun on the side,” Lafferty grinned at me. “I’ve been chasing this hot young thing at the office.”
“Are you guys hungry?” I tried to interrupt.
“Maybe in a bit, buddy,” dad practically growled at me before turning back to John. “Good for you, man. Any luck with her so far?”
“Actually,” John leaned back and propped his hand behind his head, “I don’t mind telling you I got one of the best BJs of my life the other day.”
“Fuck, man,” dad nodded, his voice husky and laden with a rough edge of masculinity. “That sounds real good right about now.” As the bulges in the two men’s towels became unmistakably larger, I gazed intently out the window. In a hushed voice, dad added, “Let me know if she has a friend. Wouldn’t mind having a nice little piece of ass to tap whenever I’m in the city.”
“Hah, I’ll have to ask,” John smirked, nodding down to the obvious shape jutting below dad’s waist, “looks like it’s been a long week without the Mrs. for you.”
“Oh,” dad muttered in a flustered voice, “sorry, I didn’t—“ He shifted his body to hide the excitement their conversation had stirred up. “Excuse me. Why don’t you get started on dinner, buddy, and we’ll get dressed a bit more properly? I’ll leave an extra pair of lounge clothes out for you, John.” He hurriedly fled back to the guest rooms, leaving John and I alone.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” I hissed as soon as dad was out of earshot. “What the fuck game are you playing?”
John looked at me, eyes glinting like a starving predator, and surged forward to pin me against the counter. His firm body rubbed me as his lips engulfed mine. His tongue tasted bittersweet, exploring my mouth with the natural entitlement of a man who’d never been denied anything. I pushed back against him, but he pinned my hands down on the granite and snarled, “Don’t pretend like you don’t want this, boy.”
With one last probe of his tongue, he released me and stepped back, propping his hands on his hips as he let his towel uncoil and fall to the floor. His meaty cock bobbed, hanging between his thighs like a piece of bait meant to lure me to my knees. “After that conversation, it’ll be fast,” he promised, “but you’re going to give me that sweet mouth again unless you want David to walk in on us like this.”
Heart racing, furious breaths swelling my slender chest, I wanted to throttle the infuriating man. But all that stress and anger had me throbbing in my lounge pants. John startled backward when I lunged to my knees and swallowed the length of his cock straight down my throat, slobbering on him like a desperate whore.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, rearing his head back. “Good boy, Avery. That’s it—moan like a bitch while you suck daddy’s fat cock.” The older man grabbed my head in both hands and thrusted forward, pushing his mushroom head deeper as it gushed precum. “I’m gonna breed your hot little ass next time,” he boasted, “make you moan for my load like the needy whore you are.”
With every word, I slurped on his cock more hungrily, begging with my mute lips for the heady contents of the heavy nuts against my chin. He lasted barely more than a minute before his fingers clenched at my skull and his pungent seed flooded into my eager mouth. Throbbing, jolts of cum splattered against the roof of my mouth until his jizz had coated every inch of my insides from my lips to my stomach.
After one last thrust, spurting a final glob straight down my gullet, he let out a satisfied sigh and pulled me off of him. “Fuck, my boy,” he said as he stepped back, “you really do make me feel like a new man. You like all that power. Don’t you, son?” John raised his bare foot to plant it on my chest, gently but firmly pushing me until I submitted and shifted back to lie on the floor. The man stood atop me, shifting his weight to pin me there, and grinned down as I looked up. “Beneath a real man, just where you belong. Isn’t it?”
“Well, that’s enough of that. Your dad’s sure to be back soon.” John gestured to the towel on the floor beside me and I blushed as I obediently handed it up to him. He wrapped it back around his waist, offering me one last look at his dripping cock before he made his way toward the guest rooms and said, “Now get to work on dinner, boy. Feels like you worked up our appetites.”
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