about me: molly ⊠30s ⊠she/her
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⧠i write for chris evans, sebastian stan and henry cavil characters. and whatever else i want. but no rpf
links: ao3 ⊠main blog
you'll find full content warnings and summaries on each fic. some works contain dark themes and elements such as dubcon and noncon, so proceed with caution. you're responsible for your own media consumption!
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latest
the life of a thief part 2 [smut] steve rogers, bucky barnes, mafia au
the life of a thief part 1 [eventual smut] steve rogers, bucky barnes, mafia au
wedding night [smut] titus danforth, arranged marriage, age gap
do you want the kitchen tour? [slow-burn, smut] chef jack abbot, age gap
a sweet girl for your dads [smut] jack abbot & michael robinavitch, threesome
trucker king part 4 [smut] trucker!ari levinson, dark au
give me time [angst, fluff] jack abbot, father's friend
steve rogers masterlist
bucky barnes masterlist
other chris evans characters
andy barber (defending jacob):
a good neighbor part 1 & part 2 & part 3 [smut] neighbor au
untitled drabble [smut, fluff, angst] sugar daddy au
warm you up [smut] fluffy winter smut, established relationship
by the light of the christmas tree [smut] boss au, established bdsm relationship
the right girl [smut] dad's best friend đđ
a decent man [smut] strangers to lovers in a bar
ari levinson (the red sea diving resort):
c'mon and ride it [smut] boss au
a lazy winter morning [smut] established relationship
not waiting for the wolves [smut] hurt/comfort, omegaverse au
ravaged by a monster [smut] ficlet, orc warlord, fantasy au
prettier than a picture [smut] ficlet, established relationship
seeing stars [smut] ficlet, dad's best friend
far from done [smut] ficlet, established relationship
wrecked [smut] ficlet, mean boyfriend au
cold fingers, warm hands [fluff] coffeeshop au
sweet as honeycrisp [smut, fluff] sugar daddy au
the sun and the fool [fluff] lotr au, elf au, meet cute
always keep my heart safe [smut] ceo au, established bdsm relationship (drabble follow up: vacation with ceo ari) âïžđ
pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x female reader x mafia boss!bucky barnes
summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob bossâhe was luring you into his trap.
warnings: mature content, eventual 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sexual tension (resolved in part 2), almost kiss, teasing touches, possessive touches, attempted sexual coercion, enemies to (eventual) lovers, bit of a cliffhanger ending
word count: 3.0k
a/n: i had an idea for @thezombieprostitute's Let's Plan A Heist challenge while i was working on my chef Jack Abbot fic but i didn't want to start it until i finished that fic. then by the time i got around to writing it, i realized the challenge was almost over. so! i've split what was supposed to be a one-shot into two parts, and this is the first part. part 1 is mostly setup/sexual tension while the next part will be mostly smut, and i'm going to work on it next, so it should be posted soon-ish! thank you Zombie for hosting such a fun challenge, and i hope everyone enjoys reading about our tricksy little thief!!
prompts used: mansion, party/celebration, you were hired, long con, solo, rival
âYou shouldnât be in here.â
In the life of a thiefâthe life youâd chosen, mostly willinglyâit was important that nothing rattled you. You had to keep your cool in any situation you found yourself in, or else you could end up dead. It was a skill youâd honed over the years and it meant you could be held at gunpoint and not even break a sweat.Â
But those words, said by that voice, sent a shiver of unease down your spine like nothing youâd ever felt before. A guilty grimace contorted your face before you could stop it, and you could only thank the universe that the man the voice belonged to was behind you, so he had no way of seeing it.
Taking a breath and reaching for the calmness that seemed to exist in endless reserves on all your other jobs, you steeled yourself. You schooled your features into an expression that was much more innocent before you turned around and faced the source of that voice.
Steve Rogers cut an intimidating figure, clad in a tailored suit that exquisitely highlighted his tall stature and broad shoulders. His narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs looked like a million bucks in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving you a tantalizing tease of all that golden skin he had under his clothesâŠ
You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steveâs faceâhis stupidly handsome faceâwhich was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldnât help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because the frown on Steveâs face wasnât the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because heâd discovered you in the secret, locked room in his bossâs Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia bossâs private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museumâs storage room.
It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldnât be in.Â
But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employerâs hands. Then youâd get the $1 million you were promisedâŠand your debts would be forgiven. Finally.
Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didnât have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didnât matter that youâd been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansionâor that youâd enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you shouldâved.
You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.
âWould you believe,â you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. âThat I got lost while looking for the bathroom?â
A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steveâs cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldnât help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the manâs attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.
But you wouldnâtâcouldnâtâbe deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« from his bossâs collection. How exactly youâd do that when the enforcer who already didnât trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.
All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him.Â
âThis place is just so big and confusing,â you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free.Â
But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you.Â
It became easier when Steveâs lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.
âFrom anyone else, I might believe that excuse,â Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. âBut not from you, sweetheart.â
It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting.Â
There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steveâs chest like you were old friends.
âYouâre so mean to me, Stevie,â you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. âIâm just a little lost,â you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.
At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.
âCut the shit, sweetheart,â Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighsâŠ
âThis room is kept locked, so try again,â Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage.Â
However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steveâs eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out.Â
A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steveâs chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steveâs handsome face.
For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer.Â
You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation⊠but the kiss never came.
With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where heâd been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his lifeâs problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you.Â
When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his bossâs life.Â
âNow, answer me, sweetheart,â Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. âWhat were you doing in here?â
The sudden shift in Steveâs mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell youâd fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shotâSteve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely heâd betray him for anythingâbut you had to try.
So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steveâs form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch.Â
Steveâs face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.
âWhatâll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?â you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steveâs ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. âI promise to make it worth your while, sir.âÂ
You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like youâd knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.
But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steveâs hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasnât for Steveâs other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you mightâve tumbled back onto your ass.
âYouâre delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,â Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.
A shiver skated down your spine, one you werenât able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steveâs smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, andâdamn himâyour stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly.Â
It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent.Â
You were so close to huffing Steveâs scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick himâor kiss him.Â
âTell me what you were doing in here,â Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. âAnd who youâre working for. Be honest, be honestâif youâre honest, we might go easy on you.â
At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of whoâd hired you that you didnât notice the way Steveâs eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of âweâ when it was only him in the room.Â
As far as you were aware at least.
In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize youâd made such amateur errors.Â
You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steveâs words and the implied accusation.Â
Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond youâd been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasnât your best work.
âYour boss told me to meet him here,â you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadnât tried already. It didnât matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldnât work. It had to work because you couldnât disappoint your employer. It wasnât an option. âHe said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.â
It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his bossâs attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape.Â
However, you hadnât accounted for the universeâand the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcerâto be working so expertly against you.Â
That time, you did notice when Steveâs gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansionâs secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.
âIs that right?â Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasnât speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. âDid you ask her to meet you hereâdid you give her your key?â
Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak.Â
You could only watch in horror as Steveâs gazeâcold, blue and knowingâreturned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.
âOr did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?â
âThat depends,â came a voice from behind youâone that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.
It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one youâd spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one youâd secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.
âDoes it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what sheâd do with it?â
Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. Youâd worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldnât deny the way your body responded to him.
With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men youâd ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought youâd been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you werenât.
Still, it wasnât until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time youâd been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you.Â
And now you were caught in their trapâliterally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what theyâd do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employerâs wrath.
The life of a thief wasnât for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.
But too bad for you, that might be easier said than doneâŠ
thank you for reading, part 2 is coming soon!! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
The way I wouldâve fake passed out so hard once Bucky came up behind her đ
Just a sack of potatoes dropping so quickly that theyâd better catch me before I bump my head and claim to have amnesia or before I end up on my knees forâŠ.other reasons đ€đ
pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x female reader x mafia boss!bucky barnes
summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob bossâhe was luring you into his trap.
warnings: mature content, eventual 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sexual tension (resolved in part 2), almost kiss, teasing touches, possessive touches, attempted sexual coercion, enemies to (eventual) lovers, bit of a cliffhanger ending
word count: 3.0k
a/n: i had an idea for @thezombieprostitute's Let's Plan A Heist challenge while i was working on my chef Jack Abbot fic but i didn't want to start it until i finished that fic. then by the time i got around to writing it, i realized the challenge was almost over. so! i've split what was supposed to be a one-shot into two parts, and this is the first part. part 1 is mostly setup/sexual tension while the next part will be mostly smut, and i'm going to work on it next, so it should be posted soon-ish! thank you Zombie for hosting such a fun challenge, and i hope everyone enjoys reading about our tricksy little thief!!
prompts used: mansion, party/celebration, you were hired, long con, solo, rival
âYou shouldnât be in here.â
In the life of a thiefâthe life youâd chosen, mostly willinglyâit was important that nothing rattled you. You had to keep your cool in any situation you found yourself in, or else you could end up dead. It was a skill youâd honed over the years and it meant you could be held at gunpoint and not even break a sweat.Â
But those words, said by that voice, sent a shiver of unease down your spine like nothing youâd ever felt before. A guilty grimace contorted your face before you could stop it, and you could only thank the universe that the man the voice belonged to was behind you, so he had no way of seeing it.
Taking a breath and reaching for the calmness that seemed to exist in endless reserves on all your other jobs, you steeled yourself. You schooled your features into an expression that was much more innocent before you turned around and faced the source of that voice.
Steve Rogers cut an intimidating figure, clad in a tailored suit that exquisitely highlighted his tall stature and broad shoulders. His narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs looked like a million bucks in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving you a tantalizing tease of all that golden skin he had under his clothesâŠ
You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steveâs faceâhis stupidly handsome faceâwhich was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldnât help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because the frown on Steveâs face wasnât the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because heâd discovered you in the secret, locked room in his bossâs Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia bossâs private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museumâs storage room.
It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldnât be in.Â
But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employerâs hands. Then youâd get the $1 million you were promisedâŠand your debts would be forgiven. Finally.
Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didnât have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didnât matter that youâd been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansionâor that youâd enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you shouldâved.
You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.
âWould you believe,â you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. âThat I got lost while looking for the bathroom?â
A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steveâs cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldnât help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the manâs attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.
But you wouldnâtâcouldnâtâbe deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« from his bossâs collection. How exactly youâd do that when the enforcer who already didnât trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.
All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him.Â
âThis place is just so big and confusing,â you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free.Â
But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you.Â
It became easier when Steveâs lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.
âFrom anyone else, I might believe that excuse,â Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. âBut not from you, sweetheart.â
It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting.Â
There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steveâs chest like you were old friends.
âYouâre so mean to me, Stevie,â you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. âIâm just a little lost,â you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.
At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.
âCut the shit, sweetheart,â Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighsâŠ
âThis room is kept locked, so try again,â Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage.Â
However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steveâs eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out.Â
A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steveâs chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steveâs handsome face.
For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer.Â
You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation⊠but the kiss never came.
With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where heâd been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his lifeâs problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you.Â
When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his bossâs life.Â
âNow, answer me, sweetheart,â Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. âWhat were you doing in here?â
The sudden shift in Steveâs mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell youâd fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shotâSteve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely heâd betray him for anythingâbut you had to try.
So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steveâs form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch.Â
Steveâs face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.
âWhatâll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?â you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steveâs ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. âI promise to make it worth your while, sir.âÂ
You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like youâd knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.
But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steveâs hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasnât for Steveâs other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you mightâve tumbled back onto your ass.
âYouâre delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,â Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.
A shiver skated down your spine, one you werenât able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steveâs smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, andâdamn himâyour stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly.Â
It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent.Â
You were so close to huffing Steveâs scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick himâor kiss him.Â
âTell me what you were doing in here,â Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. âAnd who youâre working for. Be honest, be honestâif youâre honest, we might go easy on you.â
At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of whoâd hired you that you didnât notice the way Steveâs eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of âweâ when it was only him in the room.Â
As far as you were aware at least.
In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize youâd made such amateur errors.Â
You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steveâs words and the implied accusation.Â
Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond youâd been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasnât your best work.
âYour boss told me to meet him here,â you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadnât tried already. It didnât matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldnât work. It had to work because you couldnât disappoint your employer. It wasnât an option. âHe said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.â
It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his bossâs attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape.Â
However, you hadnât accounted for the universeâand the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcerâto be working so expertly against you.Â
That time, you did notice when Steveâs gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansionâs secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.
âIs that right?â Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasnât speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. âDid you ask her to meet you hereâdid you give her your key?â
Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak.Â
You could only watch in horror as Steveâs gazeâcold, blue and knowingâreturned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.
âOr did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?â
âThat depends,â came a voice from behind youâone that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.
It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one youâd spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one youâd secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.
âDoes it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what sheâd do with it?â
Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. Youâd worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldnât deny the way your body responded to him.
With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men youâd ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought youâd been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you werenât.
Still, it wasnât until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time youâd been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you.Â
And now you were caught in their trapâliterally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what theyâd do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employerâs wrath.
The life of a thief wasnât for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.
But too bad for you, that might be easier said than doneâŠ
thank you for reading, part 2 is coming soon!! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x female reader x mafia boss!bucky barnes
summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob bossâhe was luring you into his trap.
warnings: mature content, eventual 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sexual tension (resolved in part 2), almost kiss, teasing touches, possessive touches, attempted sexual coercion, enemies to (eventual) lovers, bit of a cliffhanger ending
word count: 3.0k
a/n: i had an idea for @thezombieprostitute's Let's Plan A Heist challenge while i was working on my chef Jack Abbot fic but i didn't want to start it until i finished that fic. then by the time i got around to writing it, i realized the challenge was almost over. so! i've split what was supposed to be a one-shot into two parts, and this is the first part. part 1 is mostly setup/sexual tension while the next part will be mostly smut, and i'm going to work on it next, so it should be posted soon-ish! thank you Zombie for hosting such a fun challenge, and i hope everyone enjoys reading about our tricksy little thief!!
prompts used: mansion, party/celebration, you were hired, long con, solo, rival
âYou shouldnât be in here.â
In the life of a thiefâthe life youâd chosen, mostly willinglyâit was important that nothing rattled you. You had to keep your cool in any situation you found yourself in, or else you could end up dead. It was a skill youâd honed over the years and it meant you could be held at gunpoint and not even break a sweat.Â
But those words, said by that voice, sent a shiver of unease down your spine like nothing youâd ever felt before. A guilty grimace contorted your face before you could stop it, and you could only thank the universe that the man the voice belonged to was behind you, so he had no way of seeing it.
Taking a breath and reaching for the calmness that seemed to exist in endless reserves on all your other jobs, you steeled yourself. You schooled your features into an expression that was much more innocent before you turned around and faced the source of that voice.
Steve Rogers cut an intimidating figure, clad in a tailored suit that exquisitely highlighted his tall stature and broad shoulders. His narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs looked like a million bucks in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving you a tantalizing tease of all that golden skin he had under his clothesâŠ
You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steveâs faceâhis stupidly handsome faceâwhich was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldnât help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because the frown on Steveâs face wasnât the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because heâd discovered you in the secret, locked room in his bossâs Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia bossâs private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museumâs storage room.
It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldnât be in.Â
But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employerâs hands. Then youâd get the $1 million you were promisedâŠand your debts would be forgiven. Finally.
Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didnât have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didnât matter that youâd been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansionâor that youâd enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you shouldâved.
You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.
âWould you believe,â you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. âThat I got lost while looking for the bathroom?â
A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steveâs cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldnât help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the manâs attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.
But you wouldnâtâcouldnâtâbe deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« from his bossâs collection. How exactly youâd do that when the enforcer who already didnât trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.
All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him.Â
âThis place is just so big and confusing,â you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free.Â
But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you.Â
It became easier when Steveâs lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.
âFrom anyone else, I might believe that excuse,â Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. âBut not from you, sweetheart.â
It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting.Â
There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steveâs chest like you were old friends.
âYouâre so mean to me, Stevie,â you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. âIâm just a little lost,â you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.
At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.
âCut the shit, sweetheart,â Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighsâŠ
âThis room is kept locked, so try again,â Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage.Â
However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steveâs eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out.Â
A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steveâs chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steveâs handsome face.
For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer.Â
You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation⊠but the kiss never came.
With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where heâd been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his lifeâs problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you.Â
When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his bossâs life.Â
âNow, answer me, sweetheart,â Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. âWhat were you doing in here?â
The sudden shift in Steveâs mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell youâd fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shotâSteve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely heâd betray him for anythingâbut you had to try.
So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steveâs form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch.Â
Steveâs face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.
âWhatâll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?â you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steveâs ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. âI promise to make it worth your while, sir.âÂ
You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like youâd knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.
But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steveâs hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasnât for Steveâs other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you mightâve tumbled back onto your ass.
âYouâre delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,â Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.
A shiver skated down your spine, one you werenât able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steveâs smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, andâdamn himâyour stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly.Â
It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent.Â
You were so close to huffing Steveâs scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick himâor kiss him.Â
âTell me what you were doing in here,â Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. âAnd who youâre working for. Be honest, be honestâif youâre honest, we might go easy on you.â
At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of whoâd hired you that you didnât notice the way Steveâs eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of âweâ when it was only him in the room.Â
As far as you were aware at least.
In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize youâd made such amateur errors.Â
You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steveâs words and the implied accusation.Â
Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond youâd been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasnât your best work.
âYour boss told me to meet him here,â you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadnât tried already. It didnât matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldnât work. It had to work because you couldnât disappoint your employer. It wasnât an option. âHe said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.â
It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his bossâs attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape.Â
However, you hadnât accounted for the universeâand the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcerâto be working so expertly against you.Â
That time, you did notice when Steveâs gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansionâs secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.
âIs that right?â Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasnât speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. âDid you ask her to meet you hereâdid you give her your key?â
Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak.Â
You could only watch in horror as Steveâs gazeâcold, blue and knowingâreturned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.
âOr did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?â
âThat depends,â came a voice from behind youâone that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.
It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one youâd spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one youâd secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.
âDoes it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what sheâd do with it?â
Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. Youâd worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldnât deny the way your body responded to him.
With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men youâd ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought youâd been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you werenât.
Still, it wasnât until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time youâd been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you.Â
And now you were caught in their trapâliterally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what theyâd do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employerâs wrath.
The life of a thief wasnât for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.
But too bad for you, that might be easier said than doneâŠ
thank you for reading, part 2 is coming soon!! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
A hundred thanks to all of the people participating in my Heist Challenge! Please see below for all the wonderful entries received thus far!
Our Precious by @tarithenurse
Summary: The Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« does not belong to the wealthy man who has added it to his private collection. It belongs to your homelandâŠand youâll bring it back!
Heist, Heist, Baby by @foxgloveprincess
Summary: You meet so many interesting people in your line of work.
Let's Plan a Heist - Challenge by @a-lumos-in-the-nox
Summary: Harpy & Hellfire go undercover to steal a priceless diamond.
Mon Bijou by @thezombieprostitute
Summary: You and Ransom are sick and tired of his family trying to kill your friendship.
Eclipsed by @lessersole
Summary: Your perfectly constructed plan to liberate the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë is as flawless as the jewel itself - until you run into one overly interested supersoldier.
A Most Intimate Blunder by @americasass81
Summary: Coming across an item you've secretly coveted your whole life, will letting in an untested character scupper your plans or be the element that brings the whole thing together.
Surcease by @darsynia
Summary: Professor Steve Rogers has one hell of a past, a comfortable present, and hopes for a future with you (he's a little stuck on 'step 1: ask you out'). Somehow all three converge with a date, a heist, and a national security threat in one treasure of a night.
The Life of a Thief by @witchywithwhiskey
Summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob bossâhe was luring you into his trap.
Northern Heist by @alicedopey
Summary: You are determined to take back what is rightfully yours and you get some surprising help on the way.
pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x female reader x mafia boss!bucky barnes
summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob bossâhe was luring you into his trap.
warnings: mature content, eventual 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sexual tension (resolved in part 2), almost kiss, teasing touches, possessive touches, attempted sexual coercion, enemies to (eventual) lovers, bit of a cliffhanger ending
word count: 3.0k
a/n: i had an idea for @thezombieprostitute's Let's Plan A Heist challenge while i was working on my chef Jack Abbot fic but i didn't want to start it until i finished that fic. then by the time i got around to writing it, i realized the challenge was almost over. so! i've split what was supposed to be a one-shot into two parts, and this is the first part. part 1 is mostly setup/sexual tension while the next part will be mostly smut, and i'm going to work on it next, so it should be posted soon-ish! thank you Zombie for hosting such a fun challenge, and i hope everyone enjoys reading about our tricksy little thief!!
prompts used: mansion, party/celebration, you were hired, long con, solo, rival
âYou shouldnât be in here.â
In the life of a thiefâthe life youâd chosen, mostly willinglyâit was important that nothing rattled you. You had to keep your cool in any situation you found yourself in, or else you could end up dead. It was a skill youâd honed over the years and it meant you could be held at gunpoint and not even break a sweat.Â
But those words, said by that voice, sent a shiver of unease down your spine like nothing youâd ever felt before. A guilty grimace contorted your face before you could stop it, and you could only thank the universe that the man the voice belonged to was behind you, so he had no way of seeing it.
Taking a breath and reaching for the calmness that seemed to exist in endless reserves on all your other jobs, you steeled yourself. You schooled your features into an expression that was much more innocent before you turned around and faced the source of that voice.
Steve Rogers cut an intimidating figure, clad in a tailored suit that exquisitely highlighted his tall stature and broad shoulders. His narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs looked like a million bucks in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving you a tantalizing tease of all that golden skin he had under his clothesâŠ
You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steveâs faceâhis stupidly handsome faceâwhich was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldnât help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because the frown on Steveâs face wasnât the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because heâd discovered you in the secret, locked room in his bossâs Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia bossâs private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museumâs storage room.
It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldnât be in.Â
But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employerâs hands. Then youâd get the $1 million you were promisedâŠand your debts would be forgiven. Finally.
Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didnât have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didnât matter that youâd been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansionâor that youâd enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you shouldâved.
You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.
âWould you believe,â you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. âThat I got lost while looking for the bathroom?â
A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steveâs cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldnât help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the manâs attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.
But you wouldnâtâcouldnâtâbe deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« from his bossâs collection. How exactly youâd do that when the enforcer who already didnât trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.
All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him.Â
âThis place is just so big and confusing,â you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free.Â
But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you.Â
It became easier when Steveâs lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.
âFrom anyone else, I might believe that excuse,â Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. âBut not from you, sweetheart.â
It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting.Â
There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steveâs chest like you were old friends.
âYouâre so mean to me, Stevie,â you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. âIâm just a little lost,â you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.
At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.
âCut the shit, sweetheart,â Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighsâŠ
âThis room is kept locked, so try again,â Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage.Â
However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steveâs eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out.Â
A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steveâs chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steveâs handsome face.
For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer.Â
You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation⊠but the kiss never came.
With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where heâd been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his lifeâs problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you.Â
When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his bossâs life.Â
âNow, answer me, sweetheart,â Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. âWhat were you doing in here?â
The sudden shift in Steveâs mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell youâd fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shotâSteve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely heâd betray him for anythingâbut you had to try.
So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steveâs form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch.Â
Steveâs face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.
âWhatâll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?â you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steveâs ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. âI promise to make it worth your while, sir.âÂ
You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like youâd knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.
But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steveâs hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasnât for Steveâs other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you mightâve tumbled back onto your ass.
âYouâre delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,â Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.
A shiver skated down your spine, one you werenât able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steveâs smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, andâdamn himâyour stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly.Â
It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent.Â
You were so close to huffing Steveâs scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick himâor kiss him.Â
âTell me what you were doing in here,â Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. âAnd who youâre working for. Be honest, be honestâif youâre honest, we might go easy on you.â
At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of whoâd hired you that you didnât notice the way Steveâs eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of âweâ when it was only him in the room.Â
As far as you were aware at least.
In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize youâd made such amateur errors.Â
You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steveâs words and the implied accusation.Â
Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond youâd been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasnât your best work.
âYour boss told me to meet him here,â you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadnât tried already. It didnât matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldnât work. It had to work because you couldnât disappoint your employer. It wasnât an option. âHe said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.â
It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his bossâs attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape.Â
However, you hadnât accounted for the universeâand the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcerâto be working so expertly against you.Â
That time, you did notice when Steveâs gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansionâs secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.
âIs that right?â Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasnât speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. âDid you ask her to meet you hereâdid you give her your key?â
Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak.Â
You could only watch in horror as Steveâs gazeâcold, blue and knowingâreturned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.
âOr did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?â
âThat depends,â came a voice from behind youâone that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.
It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one youâd spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one youâd secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.
âDoes it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what sheâd do with it?â
Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. Youâd worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldnât deny the way your body responded to him.
With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men youâd ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought youâd been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you werenât.
Still, it wasnât until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time youâd been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you.Â
And now you were caught in their trapâliterally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what theyâd do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employerâs wrath.
The life of a thief wasnât for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.
But too bad for you, that might be easier said than doneâŠ
thank you for reading, part 2 is coming soon!! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
Thank you so much for providing this sexy thriller for the Heist challenge! I'm really looking forward to part 2 and not just for the potential of sexy times with our two sexy mafia men.
The fact that her employer put the fear of god into her, making her more scared than the man in front of her, is very worrying. I don't blame her for jumping at the chance to get all of her debts with him wiped clean. I really hope Bucky and Steve listen to her and help her out. đ„ș
Also:
âDoes it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what sheâd do with it?â
Absolutely loved it! I love when the targets are smarter than you think.
ahh thank you so much Zombie âĄâĄâĄ that was one of my favorite lines to write đ and thank you again for hosting the challenge, it was such a fun one to participate in!!
pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x female reader x mafia boss!bucky barnes
summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob bossâhe was luring you into his trap.
warnings: mature content, eventual 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sexual tension (resolved in part 2), almost kiss, teasing touches, possessive touches, attempted sexual coercion, enemies to (eventual) lovers, bit of a cliffhanger ending
word count: 3.0k
a/n: i had an idea for @thezombieprostitute's Let's Plan A Heist challenge while i was working on my chef Jack Abbot fic but i didn't want to start it until i finished that fic. then by the time i got around to writing it, i realized the challenge was almost over. so! i've split what was supposed to be a one-shot into two parts, and this is the first part. part 1 is mostly setup/sexual tension while the next part will be mostly smut, and i'm going to work on it next, so it should be posted soon-ish! thank you Zombie for hosting such a fun challenge, and i hope everyone enjoys reading about our tricksy little thief!!
prompts used: mansion, party/celebration, you were hired, long con, solo, rival
âYou shouldnât be in here.â
In the life of a thiefâthe life youâd chosen, mostly willinglyâit was important that nothing rattled you. You had to keep your cool in any situation you found yourself in, or else you could end up dead. It was a skill youâd honed over the years and it meant you could be held at gunpoint and not even break a sweat.Â
But those words, said by that voice, sent a shiver of unease down your spine like nothing youâd ever felt before. A guilty grimace contorted your face before you could stop it, and you could only thank the universe that the man the voice belonged to was behind you, so he had no way of seeing it.
Taking a breath and reaching for the calmness that seemed to exist in endless reserves on all your other jobs, you steeled yourself. You schooled your features into an expression that was much more innocent before you turned around and faced the source of that voice.
Steve Rogers cut an intimidating figure, clad in a tailored suit that exquisitely highlighted his tall stature and broad shoulders. His narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs looked like a million bucks in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving you a tantalizing tease of all that golden skin he had under his clothesâŠ
You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steveâs faceâhis stupidly handsome faceâwhich was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldnât help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because the frown on Steveâs face wasnât the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because heâd discovered you in the secret, locked room in his bossâs Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia bossâs private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museumâs storage room.
It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldnât be in.Â
But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employerâs hands. Then youâd get the $1 million you were promisedâŠand your debts would be forgiven. Finally.
Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didnât have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didnât matter that youâd been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansionâor that youâd enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you shouldâved.
You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.
âWould you believe,â you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. âThat I got lost while looking for the bathroom?â
A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steveâs cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldnât help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the manâs attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.
But you wouldnâtâcouldnâtâbe deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of AlqualondĂ« from his bossâs collection. How exactly youâd do that when the enforcer who already didnât trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.
All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him.Â
âThis place is just so big and confusing,â you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free.Â
But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you.Â
It became easier when Steveâs lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.
âFrom anyone else, I might believe that excuse,â Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. âBut not from you, sweetheart.â
It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting.Â
There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steveâs chest like you were old friends.
âYouâre so mean to me, Stevie,â you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. âIâm just a little lost,â you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.
At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.
âCut the shit, sweetheart,â Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighsâŠ
âThis room is kept locked, so try again,â Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage.Â
However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steveâs eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out.Â
A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steveâs chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steveâs handsome face.
For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer.Â
You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation⊠but the kiss never came.
With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where heâd been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his lifeâs problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you.Â
When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his bossâs life.Â
âNow, answer me, sweetheart,â Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. âWhat were you doing in here?â
The sudden shift in Steveâs mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell youâd fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shotâSteve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely heâd betray him for anythingâbut you had to try.
So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steveâs form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch.Â
Steveâs face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.
âWhatâll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?â you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steveâs ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. âI promise to make it worth your while, sir.âÂ
You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like youâd knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.
But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steveâs hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasnât for Steveâs other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you mightâve tumbled back onto your ass.
âYouâre delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,â Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.
A shiver skated down your spine, one you werenât able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steveâs smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, andâdamn himâyour stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly.Â
It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent.Â
You were so close to huffing Steveâs scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick himâor kiss him.Â
âTell me what you were doing in here,â Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. âAnd who youâre working for. Be honest, be honestâif youâre honest, we might go easy on you.â
At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of whoâd hired you that you didnât notice the way Steveâs eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of âweâ when it was only him in the room.Â
As far as you were aware at least.
In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize youâd made such amateur errors.Â
You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steveâs words and the implied accusation.Â
Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond youâd been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasnât your best work.
âYour boss told me to meet him here,â you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadnât tried already. It didnât matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldnât work. It had to work because you couldnât disappoint your employer. It wasnât an option. âHe said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.â
It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his bossâs attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape.Â
However, you hadnât accounted for the universeâand the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcerâto be working so expertly against you.Â
That time, you did notice when Steveâs gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansionâs secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.
âIs that right?â Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasnât speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. âDid you ask her to meet you hereâdid you give her your key?â
Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak.Â
You could only watch in horror as Steveâs gazeâcold, blue and knowingâreturned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.
âOr did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?â
âThat depends,â came a voice from behind youâone that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.
It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one youâd spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one youâd secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.
âDoes it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what sheâd do with it?â
Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. Youâd worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldnât deny the way your body responded to him.
With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men youâd ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought youâd been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you werenât.
Still, it wasnât until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time youâd been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you.Â
And now you were caught in their trapâliterally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what theyâd do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employerâs wrath.
The life of a thief wasnât for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.
But too bad for you, that might be easier said than doneâŠ
thank you for reading, part 2 is coming soon!! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
summary: when your already bad date takes a turn for the worse, the head chef of the restaurant comes to see what he can do to help. when he offers to give you a tour of the kitchen, you jump at the chance to escape, and your bad night turns into something else entirely.
warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), some verbal and physical abuse against reader during her date, reader sustains a minor injury (bruised wrist), some hurt/comfort, unspecified age gap, porn with feelings, kinda instalove, eventual smut, dry humping, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, big cock, cock warming, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, come eating, marking/hickeys, sorta scent kink, dirty talk, chef kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby), aftercare, happy ending
word count: 26.0k
a/n: it's finally hereeeee!!! i've been working on nothing else but this fic for the last month and it's finally done đźâđšđ it was inspired by Shawn Hatosy's Quinn audio (although i haven't actually listened to it yet). i just had to write something for chef!Jack Abbot, and i'm really happy with how this turned out! it feels almost like a smutty little romance novella, which i think is cool. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!
if you'd rather read the fic broken down into chapters, check it out on AO3
âHey, chef.â
With just those two words, Jack Abbot knew his night was about to take a turn for the worse. Nothing good could come from the underlying urgency and overt hesitance in the voice of one of his servers, Nazely Toomarian.
But Jack also knew, from his years as head chef and owner of one of Pittsburghâs most popular fine dining restaurants, Night Shift, that it wasnât Nazelyâs fault. No, it was very likely to be one of the insufferable guests who frequented his restaurant who ruined his night.
So Jack swallowed his sigh, kept stirring the sauce of that nightâs special, and glanced at his server, giving her a nod to go on.
âWeâve got a situation in the dining room.â
Of course they did.
Jack finally let loose the sigh that had been building between his ribs, wondering distractedly if the situation was some jagoff businessmanâs card declining, an impossible-to-please socialite sending every bite of her food back, or if another influencer was insisting on getting their meal comped in exchange for free publicity on their Instagram or TikTok or whatever.
Jack knew he was old and out of touchâthat was why heâd hired one of the daytime servers, Victoria Javadi, to run the restaurantâs social mediaâbut he also knew a scam when he saw it. Someone who genuinely wanted to work with him asked about partnership deals before eating an entire meal they expected to be free.
Grumbling about influencers under his breath, Jack gave the sauce on the stove one last stir, adding a little more salt, then handed the wooden spoon off to his sous chef, John Shen. Quickly, but methodically, Jack took off his gloves, turned to Nazely, and tucked his arms behind his backâa remnant from his days in the army.
âWhat kind of a situation?â Jack asked, his voice calm and measured even as he was already preparing himself for the worst.
The chef listened attentively as his server explained what had brought her back into the kitchen with that concerned look in her eyes. The frown on Jackâs face deepened the more he heard about the date going decidedly bad in his dining room.
Finally, Nazely finished up her story with a breathless, âDo you want me to have security handle it?â
Jack knew it was the easiest solution, to call security and have them escort the man creating the situation out of the restaurant. But it would cause a scene, and everyone else in the packed restaurant would be talking more about what had happened than his food.
It would be better for Night Shiftâs business if Jack could remedy the situation himself, as quietly as possible.
Instead of answering his serverâs question, Jack walked to the double swinging doors that led out to the dining room. He peered through the window, feeling a bit like a king overlooking his kingdom, and he had a sudden, fierce impulse to protect it.
âWhich table was it?â Jack asked, glancing back at Nazely, whoâd followed him to the doors.
âTable 12,â she answered quickly.
Jack looked out across the sea of glamorous guests dining in his restaurant, a swell of pride in his heart when he saw beyond the expensive clothes and glitzy jewelry to the smiles and laughter of people enjoying his food. In his heart of hearts, Jack just wanted to make food people liked eating, and it never failed to overwhelm him when he got a chance to see the delight he brought to complete strangers whoâd entrusted their time and money to him.
Pushing those thoughts and feelings aside for the moment, Jack focused back on the room, his eyes tracking along the tables until he found the one Nazely had indicated. For the first time in a long time, Jack Abbotâs heart skipped a beat and he froze at the sight in front of him.
The first thing about you that rendered Jack speechless was your mouth, the curve of your lips, the tension around the edges as you hid a frown behind a sip of wine. Jack knew, instinctively, that your lips would look gorgeous when you smiled, that your mouth would look exquisite while eating his foodâand he knew, too, that heâd do anything to make you smile, to feed you, to take care of you.
Jack shook his head at those thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the situation Nazely had told him about, the date going irreparably sideways.
Still, the chef couldnât help but rake his eyes over you, telling himself he was simply assessing how much distress you were in. Jack noted the stiffness in your shoulders, how you were curling in on yourself slightly, like your body was trying to protect itself. He also noticed the pretty color of your eyes, the curve of your cheekbones, the sweep of your dress at it fell across your thighs.
You were beautiful, enchanting in a way Jack hadnât experienced in a long, long timeâand you were miserable. That much was clear from your body language and the way you regarded your date with no small amount of disgust and fear deep in your pretty eyes.
Finally, the chef dragged his gaze across your table to your date.
Immediately, Jack didnât like the arrogant slant of the manâs shoulders, the imperious tilt of his chin, or the pompous way he held his glass as he spoke and drank. Even the way the man took a sip of wine, smacking his lips before resuming his tirade where heâd left off, made anger coil like a poised predator in Jackâs gut.
Something shifted in the man, and Jack looked back at you, seeing indignant rage boiling beneath the surface of your expression. Jack watched you say something through bared teeth, hissing at your date like you were trying not to make a scene.
Your hands were braced against the edge of the table, and you pushed to standâbut then your date moved to stop you, grabbing your wrist, and something in Jack snapped.
Later, heâd tell himself he wouldâve had the same reaction if any man had put his hands on a woman in his restaurant. But in that moment, he was driven almost entirely by the edge of something else threaded through the fury in his chestâsomething greedy and selfish that you, and only you, had inspired in him.
âIâll handle this myself,â Jack growled, tossing the words over his shoulder at Nazely without taking his eyes off where your dateâs hand was still wrapped around your wrist, holding you chained to the table like a misbehaving pet.
All Jack could think, as he strode across the dining room, his chest churning with wrath and violence, was that it was a good thing he didnât have a knife in his hand.
You were on the date from hell.
And the worst part? You werenât even sure when everything had gone wrong.
Was it when youâd let your coworker set you up with her boyfriendâs best friend, a man named Curtis Larsen?
Was it when youâd gotten your hopes up and donned your favorite dressâthe black fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places and showing off your legsâonly for Curtis not to say a word when he picked you up from your office building in downtown Pittsburgh?
Was it when you decided you could put up with his pretentious posturing about his job and his golf game to enjoy one night at Night Shift, the restaurant youâd always wanted to try but could never afford?
Hiding a sigh by taking a sip of your wineâa bitter red youâd never have ordered for yourselfâyou decided that was probably when things had gone wrong.
From the moment youâd gotten into Curtisâs car, heâd been nothing but insufferable. You shouldâve left before walking into the restaurant, but youâd heard such good things about Night Shift, and its head chef Jack Abbot, that youâd ignored your instincts and soldiered on.
You were rewarded for your selfishness by watching Curtis talk down to everyone he came acrossâthe hostess, who sat you in the middle of the dining room only for Curtis to complain you werenât in one of the booths; the server, who tried to recite the nightâs specials only to be interrupted by Curtis asking about a specific dish; the sommelier, who had to put up with Curtis acting like he knew more about wine than the man whose job it was.
It was all you could do to offer the restaurant workers apologetic smiles and slip them some money from your own purse when Curtis wasnât looking. You tried to grin and bear it, to soak up the ambience of the restaurant despite the black hole of unearned smugness sitting across from you.
Truthfully, Night Shift was spectacular enough to almost distract you from your horrible date and everything that was wrong with him.
The space was decorated in rich, emerald greens and dark, roughhewn wood, with real, lustrous plants and other greenery breaking up the dining room to give each table a pretense of privacy. Warm candles and low lighting gave the restaurant an intimate atmosphere, even while it was packed full.
All told, Night Shift was the perfect place for a date. It was too bad you were there with a man who mightâve been worse than the devil.
You were hiding another frown behind a sip of your disgusting wine when Curtis launched into a tirade about how the woman heâd marry should have a respectable job and make a good salaryâand sheâd also be responsible for keeping his house clean and taking care of his kids.
It took all of your self-control to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You werenât exactly surprisedâyouâd been set up with enough financial analysts like Curtis to know a lot of them were useless assholes who wanted a mommy more than a wife. But you could feel your desire to put up with the date for the sake of trying Night Shiftâs food slipping away, and you hadnât even ordered your appetizers yet.
Resolving to treat yourself to a dinner at Night Shift for your next birthday, you interrupted Curtisâs egotistical diatribe about modern women and tried to politely excuse yourself. You were kinder than you thought he deserved when you told him you didnât think the two of you were a good fit and it would save you both some time to cut the date short.
But Curtisâs eyes flashed in a way that had fear suddenly bursting in your gut, and his expression turned mean as he leaned forward across the small table, invading your space.
âThe date isnât over until I say itâs over,â Curtis said, his voice so cold, you froze in your seat. âYouâre not going anywhere.â
For a moment, you sat in your seat in surprise. Youâd been on some bad dates, and while some of the men had reacted badly when youâd left early, none of them had scared you the way Curtis was. There was something so aggressive about the way he spoke, and it was then that you noticed a strange haze in his eyes.
Was he⊠high?
Thankfully, a sever mustâve caught Curtisâs words, or his tone of voice, because she came over to check on you. Her brown eyes were sharp, but kind as they stayed fixed on you, asking if everything was okay.
âWeâre fine,â you told her weakly, giving her the most reassuring smile you could offer while silently begging her to help you somehow. You didnât want to make a scene, and you were sure the restaurant didnât want that either, but you would if you needed to.
Thatâs what you hoped to convey, and you thought the server mightâve understood because she gave a firm nod and headed off with a determined spring in her step. You saw her walk quickly toward the kitchen before your attention was diverted by Curtis.
âYou better not embarrass me in front of the staff,â Curtis was saying, clutching his wine glass a little too tight and swirling the liquid enough that you worried heâd spill some on the expensive decor. âI bring a lot of high-profile clients here, I canât have you leaving earlyâyou know how people like them talk.â
The fear youâd felt melted away in the face of indignant anger on behalf of the restaurant staffâwho Curtis had treated like garbage since heâd walked in. It was a miracle he was even allowed in the doors after what youâd seen that evening.
âWhat kind of people is that exactly?â you asked, quiet fury lacing your voice. You could put up with the indignity of being ordered around by your date, but you wouldnât sit by and listen to him disparage the people whoâd only tried to help the two of you that evening.
Curtis clearly didnât hear the warning in your tone, because he gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, gesturing thoughtlessly with his hand holding his wine. Some sloshed over the edge, spilling on the floor.
âYou know, low-class people.â
There was so much casual disdain dripping from his voice, you had to wonder, if Curtis was such a regular at Night Shift, why hadnât the sommelier poisoned him alreadyâitâs not like the world wouldnât be better off without your date, who was somehow still talking.
âThe type of people too poor to get a real jobâlike us,â Curtis said, fixing you with what he clearly thought was a winning smile. It did not make him look like a winner.
At the implication that you were anything like Curtis, your stomach roiled unpleasantly, and you were suddenly afraid that what little wine youâd drank was about to come back up.
That was it, youâd officially reached the end of your patience. You didnât care if it caused a scene, you couldnât spend another moment in this manâs presence without vomiting.
âYouâre a small-dicked, pathetic excuse for a man, Curtis Larsen,â you hissed at him, trying to keep your fury in check as you braced your hands against the edge of the table and moved to stand. âAnd I would fuck every one of the people who worked here before I let you anywhere near me ââ
As you pushed yourself up from the table, Curtis reached for you quicker than you wouldâve expected, snatching your wrist in his big, meaty hand. He yanked on your arm hard enough that you sat back down, biting back a cry as a jolt of pain shot through your shoulder.
âDonât you dare fucking try to leave,â Curtis snarled, his face contorted into an ugly mask of rage. It was clearer, in that moment, that he was high. It was making him more aggressive, so even when you tried to pull free of his grasp, he held on tighter, hurting you even more.
Just then, movement over Curtisâs shoulder caught your attention and your gaze snagged on a man pushing through the door to the kitchen, an air of violence and vengeance about him that made your heart leap in hope. He carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence weak-willed men like Curtis could only dream of, and he was heading straight for your table.
In the brief time it took the man to make his way through the dining room, you took stock of his appearance. The first thing you noticed was how handsome he was. Silvery, steel gray curls were swept back from his face, giving you a clear view of his sharp, hazel eyes, straight nose and a soft mouth bracketed by short stubble.
The man was clearly older than you, in his 50s, but he looked competent and put together in a way that had your belly swooping as your eyes raked down his body. A plain white t-shirt stretched around his bulging biceps, freckles dusted down his tanned, weathered arms. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were accentuated by the brown apron hanging from his neck.
Something about the man looked familiar, like youâd seen him somewhere before, but between the pain in your wrist, the fear inspired by Curtisâs aggressive change in mood, and the sudden attraction you felt toward the handsome chef, you couldnât place him.
At least, not until you looked back at his face and saw the intent determination in his expression. It was the same exceedingly hot look heâd been wearing in the photos youâd seenâthe ones in the article about Night Shift and its chef-slash-owner.
You realized, with sudden clarity, two very important things: The man approaching your table was the restaurantâs owner and world-renowned head chef, Jack Abbot. And he looked furious enough about the way Curtis was still holding on to you that he was liable to murder your date.
Jack Abbot could not kill a restaurant guest.
He could not. No matter how much that guest might deserve it for putting his filthy fucking hands on a woman in his restaurant. No matter how much Jack wanted to rip this guyâs head off for daring to touch someone as sweet-looking as you.
He could not kill a guest. He could not kill a guest.
Those words were a refrain playing in his head as he made his way to your table, the one with the situation Nazely had told him aboutâa situation that had clearly escalated to physical. Because your date had put his hand on you and all Jack could think about was murder.
He hated the way this pompous asshole was holding your wrist tight enough that it looked painful, though your face was a stony mask like you refused to give the guy the satisfaction of showing him heâd hurt you. And Jack especially hated the fact that heâd stupidly left his knife in the kitchen, so he couldnât cut off the guestâs hand for the crime of touching you with so much violence.
Jack was nearly at the table when he heard your date talking, and he immediately recognized the smarmy voice of Night Shiftâs #1 worst regular: Curtis Larsen.
In that moment, Jack knew he shouldâve banned the guy after the last time he came in, when heâd terrorized the staff and tipped basically nothing for their efforts. Well, that was a mistake Jack was going to rectify immediately, once he got you away from the shithead.
So focused on his thoughts, and trying to quell his inclination toward murder, Jack didnât fully register what Curtis was saying until he was right next to the table.
ââDidnât take you for such a cheap whoreââ
Any possibility of Jack politely interrupting Curtis went out the window when he heard those words. What came out of him instead was: âSir, you need to shut your fucking mouth.â
Jack was louder than heâd meant to be, making you gasp softly. His gaze found you, wanting to make sure he hadnât scared you, and he ended up getting lost in your eyes. They were bright and smart, and watching him with such a keen interest, it made Jack feel 20 years younger.
It was then that Jack really looked at you, and he realized just how young you were. Not young enough to make him feel like a complete creep, but⊠young enough to make him feel at least a little bit like a creep.
Especially when he raked his eyes down your bodyâtelling himself he was just checking to make sure you were okayâand he couldnât help but notice the way your dress clung to your curves, taunting him with how high the hem rode up your thigh. Your bare legs were a tease beneath the tablecloth, and Jack wondered if your skin felt as soft as it lookedâŠ
Reminding himself that you needed help, not to be ogled by a creepy older man, Jack shook himself free of the spell youâd cast on him with your wide, trusting eyes and your pretty, tempting curves. He turned to Curtis, giving the man his most fearsome glower, the one that kept the most unruly of restaurant guests in line.
âAnd keep your fucking hands to yourself,â Jack growled, making a point of looking down at where Curtisâs hand was still holding your wrist before returning his gaze to the manâs face. âOr do I need to teach you a lesson about putting your hands on woman without her consent?â
Jack knew he sounded dangerousâunhinged, probablyâbut he couldnât bring himself to care, not when his thinly veiled threat did the trick and Curtis let go of you like he was dropping a hot pan.
Something settled in Jackâs chest, and he felt soothed knowing he hadnât even needed to resort to violence to save you from Curtis. But that feeling quickly shriveled as Jack watched you bring your hand to our chest and cradle your wrist.
He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to wrap you up in his arms and tell you no one would ever hurt you again. Not on his watch. But somehow, Jack managed to keep his hands tucked behind his back, even as the tips of his fingers prickled with the desire to touch you, to soothe you.
Those thoughts and urges were troubling enough, but then you lifted your eyes and gave Curtis a withering look that had the other man cowering almost as much as he had under Jackâs glare. The chef felt a threat of pride weave through his heart.
Jack could see your strength, your resilience, and he knew in that moment that you could take care of yourself. You couldâve freed yourself from Curtisâs hold, you hadnât needed saving, but that only made Jack want to whisk you away all the more. He wanted to take care of you in a way heâd never felt before.
Biting back a sigh at himself, Jack realized one very important thing: He was a goner for you. Already. Even though he didnât even know your name.
Unable and unwilling to stop himself from acting selfishly, Jack held a hand out to you, giving you a soft, encouraging smile and nodding toward your hurt wrist.
âMy nameâs Jack, I own this restaurant. Can I take a look, sweetheart?â he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it, a low, raspy rumble that he hoped felt like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. âI used to be a medic in the army.â
It made Jackâs heart soar when you looked at him for a moment, like you were taking his measure, and decided you could trust him. Your fingers were soft and a little cold as they slipped into Jackâs plam, his own hand closing reflexively around them to warm you up.
Carefully, Jack turned your wrist one way, then the other, bending low over your hand to examine whether it was injured. All the while, he kept an eye on your face, watching for any wince or twinge in your expression to indicate he was hurting you.
Thankfullyâfor you, for Jack, and most especially for your dateâit didnât look like Curtis had done any real damage.
âNo sprain, just some bruising,â Jack said, giving your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze and lifting his gaze to yours. He nearly lost himself in the admiration and gratefulness in your eyes, but managed to continue. âI have some ibuprofen in my office.â
Your eyes widened a little in surprise, and Jack was forced to endure the torment of watching you nibble on your lower lip while uncertainty filled your expression. He understood your reticence to trust a man so soon after another had hurt you, so Jack tried to put you at ease.
âWhaddya say, sweetheart, do you want the kitchen tour?â
Jack shot you a cheesy, hopefully charming wink, and when you let out a soft giggle, shaking your head at him like you couldnât believe how corny he was, he felt like he was flying. He felt like he could soar above all of Pittsburgh with only the confidence he earned from making you laugh.
âThat would be nice,â you said, looking up at him from under your lashes. Jack was immediately entranced by your voice, by the way your lips moved as you spoke. âThank you, chef.â
It did absurdly wild things to Jackâs heart, which was already beating a fast, staccato rhythm in his chest, to hear you call him âchefâ. It shouldnât have affected him so much, it was a title he heard about a hundred times a night from dozens of other people.
But hearing it from your pretty mouth made Jack feel like it was a badge of honor, and he was glad to have earned it.
Distracted by thinking of ways to get you to call him âchefâ some more, it wasnât until you clutched his fingers more tightly that he remembered heâd intended to get you away from Curtis as quickly as possible. Using it as an excuse to keep holding your hand, Jack helped you to stand up.
When he was sure you were steady on your feet, after wobbling for a moment in your heels, Jack nodded to your chair and said, âGrab your things, angel. You wonât be coming back.â
Even though Jack was leaning into you when he said it, Curtis mustâve caught the words because his expression turned from icy resignation to red-hot fury as he pushed himself to stand. But Jack was quicker, putting himself between you and your former date, growling at the younger man before he could fully stand up.
âSit down, sir.â
A stunned Curtis plopped back into his chair. Jack raised his chin, staring down his nose at the other man while he tucked his hands behind his back, standing guard between you and your former date. Images of knives began dancing in Jackâs head, and he let it fuel the anger in his expression to keep Curtis in check.
Jack could sense you moving around behind him. Youâd dropped his hand when youâd turned to grab your jacket and purse, but you mustâve been done because you slipped your fingers back into his palm.
You grasped his hand tentatively, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, his heart soaring in his chest even as he continued glaring at the man at the table, who looked riotous at the thought of Jack stealing you away.
âYou canât do this,â Curtis snarled, trying to puff up his chest and make himself look big, even as he remained sitting in his seat, too much a coward to actually challenge Jackâs authority.
The chef responded to the other manâs posturing by looming over him, an unkind smile on his face. Jack was more than a little satisfied by the way Curtis cowered, just a little, in his seat.
âThis is my fucking restaurant,â Jack said, his voice even but ruthless. âSo let me tell you how this is going to go.â Jack kept your hand tucked in his, holding you behind him while he dealt with your ex-date. âYouâre going to pay your bill, leave your server a generous tip, and then youâre never going to step foot in here again. Do you get me?â
Jack watched emotions flit across the younger manâs faceâsurprise, frustration, indignation, furyâand he could practically feel the temper tantrum brewing, like a storm rolling in. But he could also smell the booze on him and, if Jack wasnât mistaken, he could see the telltale signs Curtis had been indulging in more than wine.
Night Shift really didnât need the scene or the paperwork that would come along with the temper tantrum, which would inevitably lead to someone calling the cops. So Jack went in for the metaphorical kill.
âIf I ever see your face in here again,â Jack said, lowering his voice even more so only you and Curtis could hear him. âYouâre going to pay for putting your hands on a woman in my restaurantâand Iâll take that payment with my knife.â
Jack watched as Curtis blanched, his tanned skin going ghostly pale as all the fight drained out of him at the threat of actual violence. The younger manâs gaze finally fell to the table, and Jack knew he wasnât going to challenge him again.
It was completely unhinged to threaten Curtis like that, he knew that, but all Jack worried about was that heâd scared you. When he turned to check on you, though, he found you staring at him with so much admiration, Jack wanted to puff up his own chest and take on every asshole whoâd ever wronged you.
You took a careful step closer to Jack, looking at him with those wide eyes, a smirk flirting around the edges of your pretty mouth, and wrapped your other hand around his bicep. âThank you,â you murmured for only him to hear, and Jack offered you an answering smile.
âReady to go, sweetheart?â he asked charmingly, squeezing your hand gently.
Your smirk bloomed into a full-blown grin, and he caught the edge of excitement in your expression, making Jackâs heart thump harder in his chest. He could hardly believe someone as young and beautiful and strong as you wanted to go anywhere with him. Not only did you look like you wanted it, you looked eager for it.
âYes, please, chef,â you purred, the sound of your voice calling him âchefâ again going straight to his dick.
Oh yeah, Jack was definitely a goner for you.
You could hardly believe how drastically the course of your night had changed in just a few minutes.
Youâd gone from being on the absolute worst date of your life, trying to figure out how you were going to get away from the man whoâd accosted you, to being on the arm of one of the most talentedâand handsomeâhead chefs in all of Pittsburgh.
Jack Abbotâs hand was warm and strong in yours, his stride steady and determined as he led you through the dining room toward the kitchen. His presence at your side helped to settle the wobbliness you felt in the wake of the fear and adrenaline that had rushed through you when Curtis had grabbed you.
Leaning further into Jackâs side, you got a hint of his scentâfresh laundry something earthy, like sage or rosemaryâand you let it stoke the little ember of interest that burned deep your core, the one that had flared to life when you watched the chef put your date in his place.
What did it say about you that you thought it was inexplicably hot the way Jack had threatened Curtis with his knife? What did it say about you that you felt safer with Jack than you had with any man youâd ever gone out with?
With those questions rattling around in your head, you were glad that Jack didnât try to make conversation beyond asking for your name as he guided you to the kitchen. He seemed to understand you needed a moment to process everything thatâd happened, and he remained quiet as the two of you walked together through the crowded dining room, the soft chatter of the other diners filling the silence so it wasnât awkward.
When Jack pushed through the double swinging doors to the kitchen, the gentle murmur of the restaurantâs dining room gave away to the chaos of the kitchen. Immediately, you felt the buzzy, almost electric energy, of the staff, and you took your first full breath since youâd walked into Night Shift, something about the kitchen making you feel like you were coming home.
Your eyes were opened wide as you looked around because there was so much to take inâa whole army of chefs and cooks moved around the silver metal tables and big, gas range stoves, grabbing things out of fridges, chopping vegetables and searing meat. It was like a masterfully choreographed dance, the way everyone moved around each other.
And it smelled divine. Herbs and spices and so many other scents filled your nose, making your mouth water and your stomach grumble, though there was no way anyone could hear it over the noiseâthe clatter of knives and pans, the people calling out orders, the slamming of fridge doors.
Everything seemed to revolve around on particular chef, an Asian man spooning some sauce onto a plate and conferring with a Black woman. He was the calm in the center of the storm, obviously running things while Jack had been dealing with your date.
The head chef himself tugged you to the side of the room, pulling you out of the way of the steady stream of servers coming in and out of the double doors, carrying big trays filled with all kinds of dishesâsalads and seafood, pasta and chicken. All of it smelled amazing, looked amazing, and it was all you could do to stare around the kitchen with awe no doubt written plainly on your face.
Gradually, you became aware of Jackâs gaze on your face, and when you looked at the chef, you found him watching you closely, so much intensity in his hazel eyes, it made you feel a little shy. Here was this older, accomplished chef, and he was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in his entire kitchenâhis entire restaurant.
You offered him a tentative smile, your heart skipping a beat when he towed you just a little closer by your still clasped hands.
âWhat do you think, sweetheart?â Jack asked, and you could tell by the tenor of his voice that he actually cared about your answer. He sounded worried, hopeful, and so achingly interested that it made you unsteady on your feet.
âI think itâs amazing,â you answered honestly, your voice more than a little breathless with wonder. You leaned further into his side, staring into his eyes and getting a little lost in them. âEverything looks and smells delicious, chef.â
A small, pleased smile curved Jackâs mouth, even as his eyes darkened at what youâd called him. It stole the breath from your lungs, the knowledge that you could affect him so clearly just by calling him âchefâ. It made you want to say it more, to say it while his mouth was on your body, just to see if you could drive him wildâŠ
Tension crackled between the two of you, sharp and electric, sucking all the oxygen out of the room so it became a little hard to breathe normally. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your legs trembled, and still, you couldnât tear your eyes away from Jack, your gaze drifting down to his mouth and the silvery stubble that surrounded it.
âJack?â you murmured his name softly, a question in the single syllable, as you raised your eyes back to his. There was an answer in his gaze, in the way his own eyes dropped to your lips and back up, like he was fighting the same urge as you.
âEverything good, chef?â
You and Jack jumped apart, your hands disentangling as you put a respectable amount of space between your bodies. You watched Jack straighten, his expression shifting into something much more professional, much more appropriate for his workplace, as he turned to the room.
âGimme a few more minutes, chef,â Jack called back to the Asian man whoâd addressed him. You got the sense that the man was amused by the two of you, even though his face remained unreadable. âIâll be back to dig you out of the hole of the dinner rush.â
The man who mustâve been Jackâs sous chef huffed a laugh and, without looking up from the dish he was plating, said, âDonât worry about us, old man. Weâve got this.â
âWhoâs he calling old?â Jack muttered under his breath, making a laugh burst from your lips at how disgruntled he sounded. A smirk flickered at the edge of Jackâs mouth, like he couldnât help himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement, and he leaned closer to you. âDo you think Iâm old, angel?â
Jackâs voice was little more than a rasp, and you swore that you could feel it skim down your spine and settle deep in your core, where heat was blooming hotter. All you could do was stare at Jack, at the weathered lines of his freckled face, and the silver curls that you wanted to run your fingers through, as you tried to think of something to say.
A little lop-sided smile tilted Jackâs mouth, like he could somehow see the odd mixture of awe and lust swirling in your body, in your brain, making you tongue-tiedâand he didnât hold it against you. âDonât answer that,â he grumbled good-naturedly, his eyes still fixed on your face.
The two of you hung suspended in that moment for longer than was strictly necessary, the hustle and bustle of the kitchen fading away, until you finally remembered how to speak. Though once the words came out of your mouth, you wished youâd stayed silent.
âI donât think youâre too old.â
That statement got Jackâs attention in a way you hadnât experienced in all the short time youâd been in his presence. His eyes darkened, dropping to your lips once again before dragging their way back to meet your gaze. A charming grin made his mouth look far too tempting.
âToo old for what, angel?â Jack asked innocently, a hint of playful teasing in his tone that had your body burning hotter. His dark hazel eyes were knowingâlike he knew what you really meant to say, that you didnât think he was too old for you.
But you couldnât say that, couldnât answer him. You already felt like youâd said too much, and there were too many emotions still swirling around in your chest, in your belly, between your thighs, to make sense of any of them.
Thankfully, Jack seemed to understand you were overwhelmed and he didnât push it. Instead, he pressed a hand to your lower back, the heat of his palm scorching through the thin fabric of your dress, even in the warmth of the kitchen. He guided you gently to a narrow doorway tucked into the corner of the kitchen you hadnât noticed before.
Jack led you into a small office that you knew immediately was his. The space was nice and neat, just like his kitchen, with homey touches that reflected the dining room of his restaurant with emerald green walls and a dark wooden desk, which held a few framed photos and other keepsakes alongside his paperwork and computer.
Also, it smelled like himâfresh and clean, with just a hint of garlic and sage.
The room was small, barely big enough for a desk, chair and a couple of filing cabinets, but it was cozy, and you felt just as safe in Jackâs office as you did in his presence. Being away from the loud clamor of the kitchen also helped to settle your nerves and, without being invited to, you sank into the chair, leaving Jack to lean against the edge of his desk.
âHowâre you holding up, sweetheart?â Jack asked gently, crossing his arms over his chest and ducking down to catch your eye. You gave him a weary smile.
âIâm ok,â you said, then paused to take stock of yourself to see if that was really true. âA little shaken, a lot hungry,â your smile tured rueful. âI was really looking forward to trying your food,â you told him, dropping your gaze to where your hands were twisted together in your lap. âBut we didnât even make it to the appetizers.â
Jack shifted closer to you, his knee nudging lightly against yours, and you felt a little zing of happiness at even that small touch. You almost huffed a laugh at yourself for the silly crush you were developing on the hot, older chef, but managed to bite it back and looked up at the man whoâd so gently gotten your attention.
âIf you want to go home, I can have security escort you out back,â Jack started, his mouth twisting into the vague impression of a frown, like he didnât particularly like that idea. âOr, if you want, you can hang out in here, I can make you something to eat, and then later, I can give you that kitchen tour.â
He shot you another one of those exaggerated winks and you couldnât help but giggle softly. Jack was charming and he knew it, and if you werenât careful, you were definitely going to develop a big olâ crush on the man. He made it too easy to feel comfortable around him.
âItâs your choice, sweetheart,â Jack said, pausing for a moment like he wasnât sure if he should go on, but then he did. âI do hope youâll let me cook for you, though.â He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against the edge of your jaw, his touch so light you could barely feel it. âI donât like the idea of sending you home hungry.â
Before you could lean into Jackâs hand, he snatched it back, like he was worried heâd crossed a line. He crossed his arms more tightly across his chest, his hands tucked away as if he was worried they couldnât be trusted not to touch you again, and you had to smile.
Maybe it wasnât the worst idea in the world to develop a crush on the hot, older chef whoâd saved you from the worst date of your lifeâespecially since it seemed like the hot, older chef was having trouble keeping his gentle hands off you.
âIâd like to stay,â you murmured, looking up at Jack from under your lashes.
Almost against your will, your body swayed closer to the charming chef, your hand reaching out to wrap around his forearm. The light dusting of Jackâs hair tickled your fingers, and you couldnât help but notice how strong and firm his arm was beneath your palm.
Your lips quirked into a small smile, putting a little flirty edge on your words as you said, âIf you donât mind, chef.â
Jackâs eyes were dark, liquid heat as he stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered wildly if he might kiss you. The thought had excitement fluttering to life in your belly, but before you could get your hopes up too high, Jack swallowed and looked away. It was only then that you noticed the faint flush pinkening his cheeks.
âMake yourself comfortable, sweetheart,â Jack said, pushing away from the desk and stepping toward the door. âIbuprofenâs in the top drawer.â
The movement had your hand dropping from his arm and you immediately missed the warmth of his skin. When he looked back at you, he mustâve caught something on your face, something that had him cracking a small smile.
âIâll be back soon, alright?â His voice was a little rough, teasing your body with its low tenor, but you managed a smile and a nod.
âIâll be here,â you said, as brightly as you could. âThank you, Jack.â
Jack looked at you another moment, his eyes going a little soft, before he ducked through the office door. He pulled it most of the way closed behind him, leaving it open just a crack, somehow knowing you wanted some peace, but not to be cut off from the kitchenâfrom himâentirely.
Left alone to your own devices, you only had your own thoughts as company. You knew your brain wanted to spiral about your dateâWhy hadnât you seen the red flags from Curtis earlier? Why hadnât you cut the date short sooner?âbut instead you focused on what was in front of you.
Tossing your purse and jacket onto the desk, you got comfortable in Jackâs chair, leaning back and noticing a leather jacket thrown over the back. Shooting a quick glance at the door to make sure no one could see in, you tucked your face into the collar and breathed in, a smile curving your lips as you inhaled Jackâs clean, earthy scent.
Once youâd had your fillâor, rather, once your shame caught up with you and you forced yourself to stop sniffing the hot, older chefâs jacket like a mindless hussyâyou let your eyes roam around the room, taking in the almost military precision of the organization in the office.
The desk was mostly clear, save for the keyboard attached to his computer monitor, and a stack of order forms for things for the restaurant. There were also the photos and keepsakes. You picked them up one by one, looking closely at the people and things Jack cared about, not bothering to feel bad about your nosiness.
The first photo was of Jack and his whole kitchen crew at the opening of Night Shift, looking worn out but exultant in their success. Another photo depicted Jack with a man about his age, tall with brown hair and a salt and pepper beard, standing next to a motorcycle. They had their arms slung around each other like they were old friends.
Next, your fingers trailed over a medal of honor that was tucked into a corner of the desk. It was purple and gold, in the shape of a heart with a manâs side profile in the center. You remembered Jackâs comment about being in the army and wondered what had earned him the medal.
Feeling like youâd possibly overstepped, you set the medal back in its place on Jackâs desk and focused on finding the ibuprofen. After taking the pills with the glass of water heâd grabbed for you from the kitchen, you snuggled deeper into his chair, your head falling back against the collar of the chefâs leather jacket.
It occurred to you suddenly that you really liked Jack Abbot. You hadnât known him for long, and you didnât know all that much about him, but you wanted to.
You wanted to know why heâd named his restaurant Night Shift, and why heâd become a chef after being a medic in the army. You wanted to know what his favorite thing to cook was, and whether he needed readers to read texts on his phone.
You wanted to know if he was going to ask you for your number.
That thought made you stop and smile as you considered what youâd do if Jack asked for you number and actually used it. Your fingers played idly with the soft, supple leather of his jacket, letting the sounds of the kitchen lull you into deeper comfort as you imagined what it would be like to date world-renowned chef Jack Abbot.
You suspected it would be a helluva lot better than going on a date with Curtis Larsen, that was for sure.
Jack Abbot could not be interested in the young, pretty restaurant guest heâd saved from a bad date.
He paused just outside the door to his office, trying to get his head on straight, but all he could think about was the way youâd looked at him, like you were attracted to him, like you trusted him to take care of you. His fingers flexed at his side, and he could still feel the softness of your skin beneath his grazing touchâso pretty, so tempting.
His mind was consumed with the sweetness of your scent filling his office, invading his private space, and how much that pleased him. Jack already knew that scent would haunt him for the rest of the evening, that heâd fall asleep just to dream of you.
Wiping a hand down his face, Jack felt like a creep for even thinking about how you smelled, how your hand felt like a perfect fit in his own, how he wanted you to look at him with nothing but lust in your eyes. He was supposed to be helping you, taking care of you, making sure you got home safe, not thinking about what itâd feel like to put his hands on your body and pull you closeâŠ
With a hard shake of his head, Jack refocused on the task at handâmaking you something to eatâand strode back into the kitchen. He walked up to stand beside his sous chef, who was busy plating a whole tray of that nightâs special. John didnât even look up as Jack approached.
âHow are things looking?â Jack asked, busying his hands by retying the strings of his apron while he took a look at the line of orders still needing to be made. It was a busy Friday night at Night Shift, but his sous chef was keeping on top of things.
âDonât worry about us, chef, we got this,â John said, before raising his voice and calling out to the rest of the kitchen staff. âDonât we, nightcrawlers?â
âHoo-rah!â came the answering reply and Jack had to twist his lips to the side to hide the proud smile that wanted to break through. Annoyingly, John noticed.
âSeriously,â John said, straightening up and setting the last of the plates onto a tray for a server to take them out into the dining room. He turned to Jack. âIâve got this under control, if thereâs somewhere else youâd rather be.â
Johnâs eyes drifted over Jackâs shoulder in the direction of the office before returning his gaze to the head chef and waggling his brows a little.
âI wonât take it personally if thereâs someone else youâd rather be with than me,â the sous chef quipped, grabbing his Dunkinâ Donuts iced coffee from the shelf over the worktable and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.
âItâs not like that,â Jack grumbled, hoping to nip that thread of conversation in the bud before it began. The last thing he needed was for his business with you to get around the kitchen. Everyone who worked at Night Shift were talented, good people, but they gossiped more than little old ladies.
Jack tugged on some black nitrile gloves and grabbed a knife and cutting board. But when he returned to his station with the ingredients heâd need for what he planned to cook you for dinner, John was giving him a skeptical look.
âRight,â John said, not dropping the subject, no matter that Jack was no longer looking at him and was instead focused entirely on chopping up some rosemary and garlic. âThatâs why you stepped in and took care of her date instead of letting security handle it.â
Johnâs tone was dry enough to give the Sahara a run for its money, but Jack refused to rise to the bait. Huffing an exaggeratedly beleaguered sigh, John cut to the chase. âDo you know her or something?â
âNo,â Jack said quicklyâtoo quickly, he knew. He could feel Johnâs indefatigable gaze drilling into the side of his head while he worked. He knew John wouldnât give up the interrogation until he got something so Jack finally admitted, âBut⊠maybe I want to get to know her.â
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a wide grin spread across his sous chefâs face a moment before John clapped him on the shoulder. âThatâs great, chef,â he said, but he mustâve noticed Jack wasnât grinning along with him because he asked, âIt is great, isnât it? I mean, itâs been a while for you, hasnât it?â
âSheâs too young for me, man,â Jack said, his voice harsher than heâd intended. He paused, swallowing, then grabbed a pan and some chicken cutlets, getting to work breading and seasoning them. âBesides, sheâs had a rough nightâthat jackass grabbed her.â Jack had to stop again and take a breath to contain his anger before he went on. âShe doesnât need some old man creeping on her, too.â
âDude,â John started, before getting distracted by plating up a new round of orders. It took him a moment to get back to the conversation. âYouâre not that old,â he said, shooting Jack a look like the head chef should know all his âold manâ comments were in good fun. âAnd if you think sheâs not interested, you didnât see the way she was looking at you.â
At Johnâs comment, Jack fumbled the pan he was cooking in, nearly spilling oil and chicken into the fire of the stove. He glanced at John, back to what he was doing, then to his sous chef again, who was watching him with a not-so-small smirk on his face.
âH-how was she looking at me?â Jack finally asked, unable to stop himself, not even daring to hope John wasnât somehow fucking with him.
Sure, Jack knew youâd wrapped yourself around his arm while heâd walked you back to the kitchen, and he couldnât get the memory of the way youâd touched his arm out of your head. But that wasnât flirting⊠was it? And certainly there wasnât anything particularly interested in the way youâd looked at him. Right?
Johnâs incredulous look told him otherwise. âJack, the girl practically had hearts in her eyes when she looked at you,â he said, and when Jack opened his mouth to protest, he cut him off. âSheâs into you, dude.â
âWhat, noâno, no, sheâs justâŠâ Jack couldnât believe how idiotic he sounded, fumbling around his own kitchen while John tried to tell him you were interested. It was like he was a young, inexperienced teenager all over again with his first crush, disbelieving she could ever like him back.
âEllis, back me up,â John was saying, calling over one of Night Shiftâs senior chefs while he set a new round of plated meals onto a tray for a server. âThe girl Jack brought back here had heart eyes for our head chef, didnât she?â
It was only his decades of experience that allowed Jack to continue cookingâboiling water and adding pasta, mixing milk and cheese in with the chicken to create a creamy sauceâwhile he waited with bated breath for Parker Ellisâs response. Jack trusted the senior chef not to bullshit him or fuck with him the way John sometimes did.
âOh yeah, full-on heart eyes,â Parker announced, stopping beside John for a moment to drop off some more plates in need of their finishing touches. She glanced at Jack, who was still trying to process her pronouncement. âYou gonna do something about it, chef?â
Was Jack going to do something about it? Everything in him ached to do somethingâto touch you, to kiss you, or, at the very least, ask for your number and take you out for a real meal sometime. He wanted to get to know you, he wanted to impress you with the most romantic of dates, and then he wanted to take you home and take care of you in every way he knew how.
It had been a long time since Jack had wanted any of those things with anyone, and it was a shock to his system to feel them for someone so soon after meeting them. But Jack could tell you were special. There was a spark between the two of you that he knew heâd be a fool to ignore.
However, he was still wary about scaring you off or creeping you out. But maybe he wouldnât if Jack could take things slow. He could feed you, make sure you were comfortable in his office, and then later, heâd give you a tour of his kitchen and see how things went from there. If you seemed into it, he could ask for your number and take you out on a real date.
Happy with his plan, Jack finally looked up from where he was finishing the meal heâd made for you. He found both John and Parker looking at him expectantlyâand a little impatiently. He twisted his mouth to the side to bite back a smirk.
âDonât you two have something better to do than discuss my love life?â he grumbled good-naturedly, knowing neither of them would take him too seriously.
True to form, Parker snickered and gave Jack a mock salute. âHappy for you, chef,â she said before heading back into the crowded kitchen.
Meanwhile, John was grinning to himself. âGet your girl, old man,â he quipped, giving Jack a sly look out of the corner of his eye.
Jack made a show of grumbling about his impertinent staff while he plated up the dish heâd made for youâchicken and pasta with a creamy, cheesy sauce flavored with plenty of rosemary and other herbs. Then, it was time to bring it to you, and even Jack was a little surprised by how eager he was to get back to you, striding across the kitchen as quick as he could.
Knocking lightly before pushing inside his office, Jack found you curled up in his desk chair, your legs tucked underneath you, an e-reader in your hands. For a moment, Jack was struck by the easy domesticity of the sceneâhim bringing you dinner while you looked sexy and cozy in his office.
It would be all too easy for Jack to get used to this, having you visit him at his restaurant and waiting in his office for him to finish up for the night so he could take you out for a late-night drink, or some ice cream. And then, heâd take you home and get you underneath him so he could have a late-night snack of his ownâŠ
âOh hi, is that for me?â
Your question dragged Jack from his reverie, and he couldnât help but smile when he saw your wide eyes looking up at him. He stepped forward to set down the dish and silverware heâd brought on the desk in front of you, your sweet scent tickling his nose before he stood back to give you some roomâand so that he could watch your reaction.
You tucked your e-reader back into your purse, and Jack knew the exact moment you smelled the food in front of you because you went still and your eyes slid closed. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and when you exhaled, it was with a low, throaty moan that went straight to Jackâs dick.
For the first time since heâd hit middle age, Jack was actually glad he wasnât as quick to harden as when he was younger. Still, he had to curl his hands into fists at his sides and tamp down on the instinct to adjust his cock, which was twitching to life, not wanting to bring any attention to how your innocent reaction was affecting him.
Instead, he focused all his willpower on keeping himself from getting harder, which became more difficult when you blinked your eyes open, looking almost dazed with hunger and pleasure. It was all Jack could do to hold himself back from touching you, from tracing the shape of your mouth with his fingers, from kissing you so that the desire in your eyes was all for him and not his food.
âIt smells delicious, chef,â you purred, your voice low and husky in a way that Jack could tell wasnât intentional, which made it affect him all the more.
âGive it a try, sweetheart,â Jack said, unable to keep the gravel out of his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to stop himself from reaching for you. He wanted to grab you by your hips, put you in his lap, and feed you. But he reminded himself he was taking things slow, so he leaned against the desk and watched you intently. âI want to know if you like it.â
Bobbing your head in a nod, you grabbed your fork, scooped up some of the pasta and speared a piece of chicken, popping the whole bite into your mouth. Some cream sauce lingered in the corners of your lips, and Jack had to clench his fists to stop from swiping it away with his thumb. He was nearly undone, biting back a groan, when your tongue peaked out and licked it up with a garbled moan.
âOh my god, thatâs the best thing Iâve ever tasted,â you proclaimed. The pleasure in your voice made Jack harder, but he focused instead on the pride blooming, warm and sweet, in his chest.
Still, he couldnât completely ignore his cock twitching to life in his jeans. For once, he was grateful for the apron covering his front, helping to shield the bulge growing between his thighs. God, he felt like a fucking teenager.
âAh, th-thanks,â he said, stumbling over his words, flustered by just how much you visiblyâand verballyâenjoyed his food. âItâs a personal recipe, not on the menu.â He shot you a wink, hoping desperately that it came across as charming, and not unbearably cheesy. âI figured you could use some comfort food.â
The somber note in Jackâs voice seemed to strike you right in the heart, and you blinked, your eyes dropping from his for a moment. Jack wondered if heâd made a mistake by referencing your bad date, but then your hand darted out, playing idly with the edge of his apron just below where his arms were crossed.
âI canât thank you enough for getting me out of that situation, Jack,â you said softly, and the chef was so distracted by the sound of his name on your tongue that he almost missed what you were saying. But then you looked up and your gaze was arresting. âI thought I could handle itâcould handle himâbut I donât know what I wouldâve done if you hadnât been thereâŠâ
Jack hated how small you sounded, how unsure of yourself.
Before he knew what he was doing, Jack was sweeping down onto one knee, barely biting back a wince when his prosthetic protested, and settling his hands gently on the outside of your thighs. He tried to ignore the heat of your bare skin against his palms, forcing himself to focus on you and making sure you saw yourself the way he saw you.
âYou wouldâve been fine, sweetheart,â Jack said in his firmest tone, even as he made sure to keep his voice gentle. He could tell from the uncertainty in your eyes that you were hanging on his every word, and he felt compelled to go on. âYou can take care of yourself, and if youâd needed to, you wouldâve handled that asshole.â
Something like pride and confidence swirled in your eyes, and Jack let his mouth twist to the side in a smile. It made him feel good to know he could put that look in your eye, and he felt his chest puffing up a little bit before he got control of himself and gave your thighs a reassuring squeeze before continuing.
âI am glad I could help, though,â Jack said, his voice rougher than it had any right to be. But he was kneeling so close to you that he breathed in your sweet scent with every inhale, and it was going straight to his head. âThank you for letting me feed youâthank you for letting me take care of you.â
Your eyes were wide and bright and fixed so intensely on Jackâs that he barely felt it when your hands settled gently on his shoulders, holding on to him like he was the one steady thing you could count on. His grip on your thighs tightened, drawing you closer until your knees collided with his chest.
âAnytime, chef,â you murmured, your lips parted and glistening and looking so fucking tempting.
A little growl rumbled in Jackâs chest and he watched your eyes flare with interest, before settling back into a heavy-lidded stare. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, curling into the cotton of his white t-shirt, and he could feel you lightly tugging on him, trying to bring him closer.
Fuck, Jack wasnât just interested in you, he craved you. It didnât matter that heâd known you for such a short time, he wanted to devour you. He wanted to take you into his arms and kiss the breath from your lungs, make you come apart and then hold you tight until you put each other together again.
He wanted to go back to work knowing you were safe and sound in his office, eating the food heâd cooked for you, then give you a tour of the kitchen later. When that was done, he wanted to drive you home, make sure you got in safe, and make plans to see you again. He wanted to take up as much space in your head as you were taking up in his.
Jack wanted to kiss you. And, if he wasnât mistaken, you looked like you wanted him to kiss you, too.
A great crashing sound came from the kitchen, shattering the perfect moment, and Jackâs stomach sank when you flinched. You tried to hide your reaction, staring at him innocently like you hadnât recoiled at the loud sound, but he was reminded that he should be taking things slowly, carefully, making sure you werenât overwhelmed by all that had happened throughout the night.
âEat up, angel,â he rumbled, giving your thighs one last squeeze before moving to stand, pushing himself up with one hand on his desk. He gritted his teeth through the pain in his limb as he settled back onto his prosthetic, and gave you another of his hopefully charming winks. âIf youâre a good girl, Iâll make you some dessert to go with your kitchen tour.â
At that comment, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sultry smile spreading slowly across your face. When you looked up at Jack, your eyes were a little hazy, and your body swayed closer to him, almost like you couldnât help yourself.
âOh, Iâll be good,â you murmured, looking more sexy than you had any right to curled up in Jackâs desk chair. âI promise, chef.â
There it was again, that title rolling off your tongue and licking straight down Jackâs spine. He had half a mind to gather you up in his arms and kiss you until you were murmuring that word into his mouth, his neck, into the center of his chest while he pressed between your thighs and slid inside youâŠ
âIâll be back when it slows down,â Jack promised, wrenching himself away from his fantasy and backing toward the door of the office. If he didnât know better, he thought you mightâve been smirking as you hummed your acknowledgement. âEnjoy your dinner, sweetheart.â
âThank you, chef,â you chirped sweetly, turning back to your mealâthough not before catching Jackâs eye over your shoulder, a flirty spark in your gaze.
A goofy grin spread across Jackâs face, and for a moment, he let himself watch you as you pulled out your e-reader and began to read while you ate the meal heâd prepared. His chest filled with warm sunlight while something in his gut settled. It felt right to have you here in Jackâs office, in his space, looking safe and comfortable and content.
Holding that sense of rightness close to his heart, Jack ducked back into the kitchen, taking a moment to retie his apron before jumping into the fray. He felt steadier than he had before heâd brought you some dinner, and while Jack knew part of that was because he knew you were fed, it was also because heâd accepted itâhe was interested in you and he was going to pursue you.
Jack was done feeling guilty or creepy for wanting to spend time with you, even if you were one of his restaurant guests that heâd had to save from an atrociously bad date. Jack believed what heâd told you, that you could take care of yourself, and if you wanted to spend time with him, too, then Jack wasnât going to feel bad about it.
So he took his place beside his sous chef and got to work on the endless stream of orders coming into Night Shiftâs kitchen. He let himself fall into the rhythm of the work, plating up and putting the finishing touches on all kinds of dishes before they were whisked away into the dining room. He worked with a methodical determination, knowing that the sooner he cleared out all the orders, the sooner he could check back in on you.
When things finally slowed down, Jack heaved a sigh of relief. It was a strange feeling, knowing he had someone in his office that he eagerly wanted to get back to, and it wasnât until he caught John giving him an annoying looked that he realized he was smiling.
Jack tugged off his black nitrile gloves, tossed them in the trash, and flipped off John while he made his way back to his office. Jackâs heart squeezed at the sight that greeted him.
He found you snuggled up in his chair, his leather jacket tucked around you like a blanket, your head lolled to the side as you slept soundly. Jack marveled at the beauty of your faceâthe soft slope of your nose, the pretty curve of your mouth, the delicate fan of your lashes against your cheeks.
Somewhere deep in his chest, Jackâs heart knocked against his ribs like it was trying to get his attention, and he knew exactly what it wanted to sayâyou could be his. If you let him, and if you wanted him, too, Jack could fall for you. That night could be the start of something new, something spectacular.
Thinking about how he could very much get used to seeing you in his chair, in his office, Jack tucked his leather jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, holding his breath when your cheek nuzzled against the back of his hand. His heart thumped happily when you smiled softly in your sleep and it took every bit of his strength to pull away.
As quietly as he could, Jack cleared the empty plate and silverware from his desk, taking care not to disturb you. He carried it to the door, where he paused to look at you again, watching you sleep for just a moment longer.
It struck Jack then, like a lightning bolt, that he wasnât just interested in you or attracted to you. He was completely gone for you. He was yours, and he could only hope that youâd want to be his.
Even before you were fully awake, you knew you were safe.
Warmth, and the scent of leather and herbs, surrounded you, easing you back into reality from dreams about a hot, silver-haired chef and big, capable hands on your body. Desire curled lazily, low in your belly, and you snuggled deeper into the leather jacket wrapped around your shoulders, wishing for more time of with your dream chef.
But before you could slip back into sleep, it struck you suddenly how quiet it was in your little cocoon. Youâd fallen asleep to the chaos and clatter of the kitchen at Night Shift, but the noise had dwindled down to a dull murmur. It hit you that you mustâve slept longer than youâd intended.
Youâd only meant to close your eyes for a few minutes. Youâd been so full from eating the comfort meal Jack Abbot had cooked for you, and youâd felt so warm and cozy once youâd tugged his jacket off the back of the chair and wrapped it around yourself. You hadnât been able to stop yourself from letting your eyes close and falling asleep.
Reaching out from beneath the jacket, you checked the time on your phone and confirmed youâd not only slept through the rest of the dinner rush, but through Night Shiftâs closing time. Slowly, you began to uncurl yourself from your position in Jackâs chair, stretching and looking toward the door of his office, wondering why he hadnât woken you up sooner.
Had he forgotten about you?
It was a little dizzying, the sheer amount of disappointment that swept through you at that thought, and it took you a moment to wade through the emotions to get back to rational thought. Jack had been so kind and attentive since heâd rescued you from your bad date, it didnât sit right to think he mightâve forgotten about you.
It also just didnât make sense based on the way heâd looked at you before heâd left you alone to eat. Heâd stared at you so intently with those dark hazel eyes of his, youâd felt like he wanted to consume you. Even just the memory of his stare was enough to warm you from the inside out, heat swirling through your belly before settling between your thighs.
Intending to get to the bottom of why Jack had let you sleep in his office for so long, you did a quick check of your makeup in your phoneâs camera and set your feet on the floor. You were just rising to stand when Night Shiftâs head chef stuck his head in through the open door.
âYouâre up,â he said, his sharp eyes taking in the way you wobbled on your heels, wincing at the pain of wearing them for so long. He came into the room and took your hand, setting a steadying palm on your hip while his fingers twined with yours. âHow are you feeling?â
His attentive question sent more warmth spiralling through your chest, and you smiled softly at the chef, leaning into his warmth. He was still wearing the thin white t-shirt that pulled obscenely across his shoulders and highlighted his bulging biceps, but the brown apron heâd had on earlier was gone, leaving him in just a simple pair of dark jeans and black shoes.
Meanwhile, you were still in the little black dress and heels youâd donned for your date, but somehow you didnât feel overdressed around Jack. You enjoyed the way his eyes raked down your body, appreciating the way your dress clung to your curvesâhugging your hips and cupping your tits. It made you crave the chefâs touch everywhere he looked.
âI feel good, chef,â you murmured huskily, your lips quirking into a little smirk when heat flared in Jackâs eyes. âI needed a little rest, but now Iâve got a second wind.â
âStill want that kitchen tour, sweetheart?â Jack rumbled, his hand on your hip pulling you closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the warmth of it teasing every inch of your bare skin. âYou were such a good girl during the dinner rush, Iâve got that dessert I promised you.â
Something deep inside you clenched tight at the way Jackâs voice rumbled over the words âgood girlâ, his praise going straight to the place between your legs that was beginning to throb the longer his hand remained on your hip. To steady yourself, you lifted your hands to Jackâs biceps, feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingers as you looked at the chef from under your lashes.
âReally?â you asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of your voice, out of your smile.
Jackâs mouth pulled to the side in a slow, wicked grin, his eyes sparkling with humor and something that looked a lot like hunger. âHow do you feel about coffee and chocolate?â
Excitement bubbled up your throat, and you bounced a little on the balls of your feet as you confirmed your undying love for coffee and chocolate. With another grin that had your core clenching, Jack guided you back into the kitchen, his big hand firm against your lower back.
Most of the kitchen staff had cleared out, leaving the space spotless and easier to navigate as Jack walked you through. He showed you each of the stations, and introduced you to the few remaining kitchen staffâincluding his sous chef John Shen and senior chef Parker Ellis.
Jack left you chatting with John and Parker while he rustled around in a fridge, pulling out some containers and setting up a work station on one of the long, silver tables in the center of the room. Once he was done, the other chefs each gave Jack a handshake and half-hug before bidding you a goodnight.
As they left, John exchanged a loaded look with Jack that had the head chefâs face twisting into an exasperatedly stern expression, and you had to bite back a smile. It was clear Jackâs staff loved him, respected himâand teased him every chance they got.
It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, to know that you werenât the only one who felt safe with Jack. He was a good boss, a good man, to everyone in his life. He was the exact opposite of the man youâd gone on a date with and needed to be rescued from.
Jack Abbot was the kind of man you could be alone with in a deserted kitchen and feel only excitement, only the thrumming awareness that something might happen between you two. You turned to him, your gazes meeting, and for a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other, silently acknowledging the sparks igniting in space between your bodies.
âHop up,â Jack said, his voice as rough as a knife on metal. With one hand, he patted the counter beside the cutting board heâd set up, his dark eyes watching you intently.
Your gaze snagged on that hand, on the thickness of his fingers and the smattering of freckles along the back. You remembered how that hand had felt on your hip, on your thigh, and you nearly whimpered with the need to feel his palm on you again, but you managed to bite it back.
Instead, you did as the chef said. You pressed back against the counter, planting your hands on the edge and arching your spine just a little more than necessary to stick out your tits. You were rewarded with Jackâs gaze dropping quickly to your chest before he dragged his eyes back up to your face. With a smirk, you jumped onto the counter, careful not to put too much weight on the wrist your date had grabbed.
The cold metal of the worktable was a stark contrast to the warmth of your bare thighs, and you hissed softly, your shoulders trembling as a shiver snaked down your spine. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your body and wished you hadnât left your jacket in Jackâs office.
But then Jackâs hand was on your knee and he was giving you a concerned look, his silver brows lowered over his hazel eyes. âCold, sweetheart?â
âYeah,â you answered sheepishly, giving a light shrug and trying to shake off the chill. You leaned into Jack, your body seeking his warmth. âThe kitchen gets cold without all the ovens and stoves on, huh?â you asked wryly, trying to get a reaction from the chef, and soften the worried lines of his face.
Jack huffed a laugh, shooting you an amused smirk even as he squeezed your knee in chastisement. The weight of his palm, the soft press of his fingers, had tendrils of heat licking down your spine and settling between your thighs. It took a great deal of effort not to shiver and grab hold of Jack to pull him closer.
âStay here,â he rumbled, pulling away and striding toward his office. You nearly whined at the loss of his body heat, but you perked up quickly when he returned with his leather jacket.
The chef stepped close enough to your legs that your knees brushed his thighs, and your gaze snagged on his. He was so close, you could see the lines in his weathered face, the silver stubble along his jaw, and the light freckles dusted across his cheeks.
Tension crackled as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, his fingers brushing gently against your bare skin, and you leaned closer, until you could feel his unsteady breaths on your lips. Jack went still, his eyes searching yours and you tried your best to tell him without words how much you wanted him to kiss you.
But either Jack didnât get the message or he chickened out, because he swallowed hard and tucked the lapels of the leather jacket around your shoulders, making sure you were ensconced in its warmth before he moved back to his workstation. It seemed to take him a moment to gather himself before he spoke.
âBetter?â he asked, his voice raw with a hunger that made you squeeze your thighs together against a pulsing ache.
âYeah, better,â you answered, your voice faint, trying and failing to shake off the unslaked desire burning through your body. You didnât know if Jack was purposefully ignoring all the signals you were giving him, or if he was truly unaware, but you didnât know how much longer you could last before you simply grabbed the chef and kissed him yourself.
Despite the almost-kiss, you and Jack fell into an easy quiet, him pulling out some dark chocolate and beginning to chop it up into tiny shards while you watched him work.
The muscles in his arms moved mesmerizingly as he worked his knife against the cutting board, his freckled forearms flexing deliciously, his biceps straining the hem of his white t-shirt. You had to wrap your fingers around the edges of Jackâs leather jacket and bury your nose in the collar, breathing in his herby, masculine scent, to keep from reaching out to touch him.
Whatever expression was on your face made Jack smirk when he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. After that, you couldâve sworn he started flexing his arms on purpose, getting fancy with his knife work, like he was trying to impress you.
From anyone else, that mightâve made you roll your eyes, or turned you off entirely, but Jack was so skilled, so charming, and just so downright hot, that it worked for him. His confidence came from his competence, and it was so attractive, it made you squirm where you sat on the counter beside him, the warmth blooming between your thighs becoming nearly impossible to ignore.
âWhatâre you making?â you asked in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from watching the muscles of Jackâs shoulders shift beneath the obscenely thin fabric of his white t-shirt. That t-shirt looked well-loved, and you had a sneaking suspicion it would feel really good to wearâwhile staying the night in Jackâs bedâŠ
âWeâve got some leftover coffee mousse from tonightâs dessert special,â Jack answered, seemingly unaware of how you were ogling him as he continued to chop the dark chocolate into little pieces.
His hands were so deft and skilfull, his fingers so thick and sure, you couldnât help but imagine what it would feel like for Jack to touch you. You imagined him putting his hands on your body, groping your soft curves, slipping his fingers between your thighs to press against your damp pantiesâŠ
âIâm just adding some chocolate to elevate it a little,â Jack glanced at you, and you knew your filthy thoughts were written all over your face by the way his eyes heated when they raked over your face. âChocolate makes everything better, doesnât it, sweetheart?â
Jackâs voice had lowered, sending delightful little tendrils of lust licking down your spine. Even if youâd wanted to, you couldnât have looked away from Jackâs dark gaze, the steady thwack of the knife against his cutting board matching the rhythm of the pulse between your thighs.
Slowly, you nodded your head. âYes, chef,â you murmured, your voice raspier than youâd expected, matching Jackâs lower tenor. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, you thought you might be able to hear it in the quiet kitchen, but it was only your soft, panting breaths.
The measured sounds of Jackâs knife ceased, his eyes dropping to your mouth, watching you breathe for one long moment, and then another, before dragging his gaze back to yours. Tension crackled electrically between your bodies, and it wasnât until your wrist gave a twinge of pain that you realized your hands were braced on the edge of the counter and you were leaning closer to Jack.
He seemed to notice the position of your body at the same time you did, his eyes darting down to where your tits were bouncing softly with your sharp breaths before looking up, a light pink blush appearing beneath his freckles. His gaze collided with yours, and you could feel the older man holding himself back, keeping himself in check.
But that wasnât what you wanted. You wantedâŠhim. Badly.
âJack.â His name was a desperate whimper, barely louder than your breathing, tumbling from your lips. Something in him seemed to break at the sound of his name from your lips, and you thought he might kiss you.
Instead, he surprised you by grabbing a piece of chocolate from his cutting board and lifting it to your lips. He met your stare with his own heated eyes, looking like melted chocolate mixed with caramel.
âHere, sweetheart, have a taste.â
Jackâs words were a low, delectable rumble from deep in his chest, and you couldnât hold back the shiver that raced down your spine, making your shoulders tremble with excitement under the onslaught of his voice and his closeness. You could smell his earthy, masculine scent, and you wanted more.
The tips of Jackâs bare fingers pressed to your lower lip and, instinctively, you parted for him, allowing the older man to feed you the chocolate. The rich, decadent taste burst in your mouth, and your tongue darted out, licking the pads of Jackâs fingers, making his eyes darken even further as he watched your lips close around the bite of chocolate.
You let the confection melt in your mouth, your eyes sliding closed of their own accord as you savored the delicious dark chocolate. You mightâve felt like you were in your own little world, but Jackâs hand fell to your thigh, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress where it rode high on your leg. You had to stifle another shiver as you hummed in delight, catching the rumble of a muffled groan coming from the chef.
When you opened your eyes again, it was to find Jackâs intense hazel eyes searing into yours, his gaze so blisteringly hot, you felt your core clench in anticipation. And since you knew you werenât alone in your attraction and lust, you licked your lips, watching Jack track the movement with his gaze.
âYum,â you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly through the hair on Jackâs arm, nails raking subtly against his warm, freckled skin. You were prepared for him to pull away again, but he didnât, and you let a small smile curve your mouth. âDo you have anything else for me to taste, chef?â
Although your question was, on its surface, innocent, you imbued your words with enough innuendo for your real meaning to get through to him. You knew that it had when the corner of Jackâs lips quirked into a smile, but instead of leaning forward and giving you what you wantedâhis mouthâhe pulled away and turned to something at his station.
The chef popped open one of the storage containers heâd taken out of the fridge and swiped his finger through the mousse inside. You almost squirmed in excitement as he held his hand in front of your mouth, offering you the sweet treat.
Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you held Jackâs scorching gaze as you brought his finger to your lips. You licked teasingly at the mousse, making sure not to touch Jackâs skin with your tongue, and had to fight a smirk when he let out a barely suppressed groan.
Putting both of you out of your misery, you closed your lips around Jackâs thick finger and licked the mousse off of him. The bittersweet taste of the coffee mousse exploded in your mouth, with just a hint of salt from Jackâs skin, and it had you moaning around Jackâs finger. His whole body jerked at the sound and the vibrations.
âChrist, sweetheart,â he groaned softly, his other hand grabbing your thigh, gripping you tightly as he nudged your knees open so he could step between your parted legs. âYou make the prettiest sounds when youâre eating my foodâI just wanna tasteâŠâ
Jackâs finger, still sticky with sugar, slid from your mouth and his hand cupped your cheek, tipping your face toward his. For a moment, he lingered with his lips just barely brushing yours, close enough that you were certain he could taste the coffee and chocolate on your breath.
It felt like he was memorizing the moment, savoring the tension that crackled between your bodies, the way your breath hitched with him so close. Your knees squeezed his sides, your fingers dancing up his ribs, and a soft, breathy whined sounded in your throat as you tried to pull him closer.
âIs this alright, sweetheart?â Jack asked, his thumb stroking your cheek, swiping over the corner of your mouth.
The genuine care in his deep, raspy voice was nearly your undoing. This man had done nothing but take care of you since heâd come striding out of the kitchen to save you from your bad date, but you were tired of him treating you with kid gloves. You wanted him so fucking bad.
Fingers curling in the sides of his t-shirt, you tugged Jack closer, sliding your body to the edge of the counter at the same time, uncaring about how high your dress was riding up your thighs. You parted your lips, tilting your head into the handsome chefâs hand as you pressed your soft body against his hard one.
âYes, Jack,â you whimpered, unable to stand the crackling tension any longer, even as you wanted to bask in it for the rest of your life. âKiss me. Please, chef.â
Jack didnât need to be asked twice. He closed the distance between his mouth and yours, capturing your lips in a slow, decadent kiss that had your heart soaring. His lips were soft, but firm, as they moved against yours, taking immediate control while you were left to gasp and whimper into his mouth.
It was everything youâd hoped it would beâthe older man kissing you sweetly at first, before pressing his thumb to your chin and tilting your head back so he could sweep his tongue into your mouth. The hot slide of him was determined and possessive and so fucking hot, you moaned against his lips, trembling as you met the fervor of his kiss with your own heady lust.
Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you wrapped your arms around Jackâs shoulders, your fingers sinking into the soft, steel gray curls at the back of his head. Your fingers tangled in the strands, tugging lightly on his hiar as your nails raked lightly against his skin, earning you a desperate groan. Jack deepened the kiss again until you couldnât do anything else but breathe him in.
The chefâs hands skimmed down your sides beneath the edges of his leather jacket where it was still balanced precariously on your shoulders. His palms were warm as his thick fingers wrapped around your ribs, pulling you even more flush against his chest, your legs splaying wide to make room for his broad body.
His thick, half-hard cock pressed against your soft inner thigh, and you shifted until he was nestled against your warm center. You rocked your hips, grinding against his bulge, dragging a desperate groan out of the older man.
âFuck, angel, you taste like heaven,â Jack rasped, pressing kisses along your jaw, tickling you with the silver scruff on his cheeks. When he suckled on a spot beneath your ear, you moaned and writhed in his arms, pressing your aching pussy against his hardening cock. âFeel like it, too.â
âGod, you feel so good, Jack,â you babbled breathlessly, rubbing against his body like a cat in heat. You hiked your thighs higher around his waist, using the leverage to hump against his thick cock through your clothes. âI want you. Please, chef,â you begged against Jackâs ear, nipping at the lobe and smiling wildly when he shuddered in your arms, his hips grinding his cock harder against your soft core.
âI thought you were going to be a good girl for me, sweetheart,â Jack growled, his voice softly recriminating as he grabbed your hips hard, his fingers digging roughly into your soft flesh.
But instead of dragging you closer and giving you what you wanted, he pushed you back. Lifting his head from your neck, he gave you a stern look, softened by the affectionate twist of his mouth and the spark of desire in his eyes, sending a zing of lust straight to your dripping slit.
âDonât you wanna be good for me, angel,â he rumbled, his voice deliciously raspy, âand let me feed you some dessert before you start begging me to fuck you?â
Your jaw dropped and you sucked in a sharp breath at Jackâs filthy words, heat suffusing your body so fully, you couldnât find a single word in your entire head to respond. You could only stare at the older man, your thighs squeezing his hips and wordlessly begging him to put your body out of its misery, but Jack simply chuckled at your reaction.
He stole a kiss from your parted lips before gently extricating himself from your clinging body, shushing you softly when you whined at the loss of him. Giving your hips one last rough squeeze, he stepped out from between your legs and adjusted his thick cock in his jeans as he moved back to his workstation.
It was absurd how cold you felt without him, and you pulled Jackâs leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, pouting at the chef. He pretended to ignore you, scooping up chocolate shards and dumping them into a bowl along with some mousse while you kicked your feet petulantly and whined, âJaaack.â
That got you an amused smirk. âJust a few bites,â he urged, picking up the bowl and beginning to whisk the chocolate into the mouse, melting it into the dessert. âI promise itâll be worth it,â Jack said, giving you another of his charming winks.
It had its intended effect, and you softened, endeavoring to wait patiently, though you still made a show of grumbling your discontent even as you got distracted by watching him work. Jackâs arms flexed deliciously while he whisked the chocolate into the mousse, his biceps straining the sleeves of his t-shirt so enticingly, you wanted to bite them, then lick every freckle, then bite him again.
Jackâs low chuckle let you know heâd caught your hungry look, and heat flooded your cheeks, but you didnât get a chance to stammer out an apology or an explanation before he was setting the bowl down and grabbing a spoon. Scooping up some of the mousse mixture, he lifted it to your lips.
You opened eagerly, already knowing whatever Jack made would be delicious, and let him pop the bite into your mouth. Jack watched you closely as he pulled the spoon out, giving you a moment to taste what heâd given you.
The delectable flavors of rich coffee and velvety chocolate melted on your tongue, and your eyes slid closed as you savored the sweetness, a low moan slipping from your lips at how good the dessert tasted.
âJesus, Jack, thatâs the best thing I think Iâve ever had in my mouth,â you groaned, opening your eyes. You found Jack staring at you, a wild look in his eyes, and so much hunger in their depths, it stole the breath from your lungs. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
You half expected the chef to pounce on you, to kiss the remnants of the dessert from your lips and show you what other things he could stuff in your mouth, but you shouldâve known better. Jack didnât take the bait of your comment as he kept a white-knuckle grip on himself, holding back even as more tension than ever snapped and crackled between the two of you.
âWant some more, sweetheart?â he rasped, holding your gaze.
Your head was bobbing an eager nod before heâd even finished the question, and he lifted another spoonful of mousse to your lips, watching as you ate it happily, humming in delight. When Jack fed himself some of the sweet concoction, you could only watch with rapt attention as it disappeared inside his mouth, his tongue flicking out to catch some left at the corner of his lips.
The need in your body had pulled you taut as a bowstring, your skin practically vibrating with desire by the time youâd finished enough of the dessert for Jack to hopefully be satisfied. It was a testament to his culinary skills that you were still able to taste the chocolatey coffee confection with how much lust was swirling through your body, simmering low in your belly.
You squirmed where you sat, the metal beneath your thighs warm from your skin, and felt how wet you were, your panties nearly soaked with your desire. You were hot enough that you pushed the jacket from your shoulders, and looked directly at Jack, pouting at the chef once more.
âJack, please,â you whined, your fingers curling around the edges of his t-shirt, knuckles brushing his ribs. You felt him suck in a breath as he let you tug him back between your legs, your body trembling with excitement and need. âIâve had enough dessert, I need something elseâŠâ
The older man didnât respond immediately, his head ducked, watching as his palms skimmed up the outside of your bare thighs, like he could barely believe you were letting him touch you. Your fingers trailed up his arms, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails raking lightly against his skin. You watched him close his eyes at the sensation, knowing he enjoyed it.
âIâve been a good girl, havenât I?â you murmured in Jackâs ear, feeling the tension in his shoulders as they bunched beneath your arms. He let out a slow breath, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. âIâve been so good, and I want you so bad, Jack. Touch meâplease, chef.â
The last thread of Jackâs control snapped at your commentâyou felt it in the way his muscles moved, poised on the edge of giving in before he finally let his desire loose after your begging plea. His hands grabbed you roughly, fingers digging into your bare ass beneath the hem of your dress as he yanked you closer.
His mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a blisteringly hot, devouring kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. He wrapped you up in his arms, crushing you to his chest as he kissed you, gorging himself on your mouth, his hands groping greedily at your body while you clung to him.
It was everything youâd wanted from the chef, and the corners of your lips curved in an attempt at smile, but then Jack was kissing you harder, overwhelming you until you were moaning mindlessly into his mouth. Youâd never felt more desired than you did when Jack kissed you, and youâd never felt more in danger of letting yourself fall for someone.
You were mostly lost to your lust, your nipples puckered and needy where they were pressed against the chefâs chest and your pussy aching to be filled, but it occurred to you that Jack was different from all the other men youâd dated. He was kind and gentle and steady, and he kissed you so good your head spun.
It struck you suddenly that while you knew you were safe with Jack, you were in danger of losing your heart to him. But that was the kind of danger you wanted to be inâespecially since you knew that if you fell for him, Jack would catch you.
So you kissed the chef right back, pouring your desire for him into the slide of your mouth against his, holding him close as you flung yourself off the edge, letting emotions swirl and swell in your chest, confident that heâd carry your heart in his hands and protect it with his life.
Youâd never been safer in your entire life than you were in Jack Abbotâs arms.
Jack Abbot was in heaven.
In all his years of cooking, of being a chef, heâd never tasted anything as divine as you.
He could gorge himself on you and still never get enoughânot of the way your mouth moved against his, your lips soft and tongue eager as it twined with his. He couldnât get enough of the feel of your body beneath his hands, so sweet and supple and responsive.
Every press of his fingertips into your spine had you arching into him, breathy, little whines slipping from your lips for him to devour. He could taste the coffee and chocolate on your tongue, and he sucked on your plump lower lip, groaning as he savored the combination of the dessert heâd fed you with the natural flavor that was all your own.
Kissing you was making him unbelievably hardâharder than heâd been in a long timeâhis cock heavy and weeping in his jeans. The only thing that saved him from embarrassment was how enthusiastically you were grinding against his bulge, the dampness of your panties leaving a wet spot where his cock was straining against the dark denim.
Jack dragged his hands up your sides, wrapping his fingers around your ribs, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your tits, teasing you both with the barest of touches. You let out a soft, keening sound against his mouth, making him smirk before he pressed kisses along your jaw and down the smooth column of your neck.
âMore, Jack, please,â you begged, your hands fisted in his shirt and tugging on him restlessly. The desperation in your voice, the way you begged for him, it made his cock twitch for you.
He shifted his hands higher, groping your tits through your dress and dragging a filthy moan from your pretty lips. The pads of his thumbs teased your hardened nipples, and he reveled in the way your body shuddered in his arms. Your spine arched, pressing your tits into his hands and he rewarded you by rubbing your nipples more with his thumbs.
âYa like this, sweetheart?â Jack rasped against your neck, raising his head enough to nip at your ear. âLike letting an old chef feel up your pretty tits?â
âOld, hot chef,â you shot back, correcting him in a deliciously breathless voice.
Jackâs cock twitched at the compliment, and he couldnât believe how lucky he was to have found youâsomeone so beautiful and full of life. Someone so into him.
He pressed his smile into the spot beneath your ear, kissing and licking your skin until you were moaning softly.
âAnd yes, chef, I love it. Touch me more, touch me harderâplease,â you begged, squirming where you sat on the metal counter in his kitchen.
What was Jack supposed to do? Deny you?
He couldnât even fathom the idea of not giving you what you asked for, even if he knew that he was letting things get a little out of control. The two of you were still at Night Shift, and though the staff had left for the night, it wasnât the best idea to have sex in his kitchen.
But Jack couldnât seem to stop himself, not when you were making such pretty noises while he sucked a hickey into your neck and teased your nipples with the lightest of pinches. His mouth trailed up your throat before capturing your lips in another kiss, swallowing your sounds of pleasure while he played with your tits.
It had been so long since Jack had lost himself in anyoneâthere hadnât been anyone whoâd awoken that desire in him the way you did. Not since his wife passed. You were a siren calling him to the danger of your body, to the promise of losing his heart to you, and Jack knew he could drown in you if you let him. He hoped to god you let him.
For long, endless minutes, Jack kissed you and groped your tits, playing with your nipples and seeing how many different noises he could pull from your lips. And for a while, you let him, the sounds of your pleasure growing more high-pitched, your hips working more desperately to hump against his cock.
Eventually, your need mustâve grown too great, your frustration too acute, because you grabbed one of Jackâs wrists and shoved his hand down between your bodies, until his fingers brushed your soaked panties.
âTouch me here, Jack, pleaseâI need it,â you whimpered in his ear, and it was nearly his undoing.
It was his turn to gasp and groan, the tips of his fingers stroking against the sodden fabric as he used every ounce of the self-control heâd learned in the army not to spill himself in his jeans right then. You were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet.
Jack teased his fingers along the seam of your slit through your panties, hoping you couldnât tell how much his hand was shaking. You felt so perfect, it was overwhelming. Heâd stopped kissing you, your mouths close as you breathed each otherâs air, panting your excitement together while he pressed into your cunt through your slick panties.
âLike this, sweetheart?â he rumbled, the edge of his mouth pulling up in a smirk when you let out a desperate little mewl. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly while you rocked your hips onto his hand.
âJaaack,â you sobbed, and heâd never heard anything as sweet as the sound of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, pleasure soaked into your voice.
You pulled harder on his hair, and the jolt of pain went straight to his dick, which leaked even more precum into his jeans. Jack responded by pushing his fingers deeper between the lips of your pussy, his progress restricted by your panties, which prevented him from burying his fingers in your hole.
A violent shiver wracked your body, and Jack wrapped his other arm more tightly around your lower back, holding you close while he fucked you shallowly with his fingers. His thumb teased your clit with a featherlight touch, drawing a feral sound from your perfect mouth.
âPlease, oh god, please, chef, touch meâfuck me with your fingers, please, please, please,â you babbled, yanking on his hair to draw him closer. But instead, Jack took the opportunity to lean back and take a look at youâand what a sight you were.
Your head was thrown back, your expression openly desperate with lust. Your gorgeous eyes were dazed with desire, your plump, perfect lips parted and panting for air. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths, enough that your tits threatened to spill out of your mussed dress, which was hiked up high, Jackâs big hand pressed between your soft thighs.
You looked debauched. You looked so beautiful, Jackâs heart clenched in his chest and he couldnât stop himself from imagining you looking like this in a million different waysâon the desk in his office, in the backseat of his car, on his couch at home, in his bed.
In that moment, Jack wanted nothing more than to have you in all those ways. He wanted to move you into his place and put a ring on your fingerâhe wanted to make you his and keep you forever. He was stunned by how much he wanted you.
âJaaack,â you whined, your sweet voice bringing him back to the moment. Your eyes were wide and pleading as you looked at him. âI was a good girl, wasnât I?â you asked so pitifully, Jackâs heart ached.
A single tear slipped down your cheek and he cupped your face, panic stealing into his gut and making his stomach drop. He wiped your tears away, already knowing he was going to give you whatever you wanted. If youâd asked him to lay down and die for you, he wouldâve done it without a second thought.
âYouâre being so mean, chef, when I was so good for you,â you whimpered, your hips worked against his hand. The movement reminded Jack of how heâd been teasing you with his fingers, dragging you to the edge of desperation when all you wanted was to be full of him.
âOh, baby, baby, baby,â Jack groaned, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
He held your face in one hand as he kissed you, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips, while the other tugged your panties to the side. He pushed one of his thick fingers into your tight, dripping hole, swallowing your moan like it was the most exquisite decadence heâd ever tasted.
âIâm sorry, angel, youâre right,â he rumbled against your mouth, pumping his finger steadily into your pussy, feeling your gummy walls gripping him tight. âYou were such a good girl for meâso good that âm gonna make you come on my fingers, alright?â
âPromise?â you asked, pouting up at him from under your lashes, and Jack knew he was in trouble, because that look on your face could get him to do anything you asked.
The corner of your mouth twitched, like you were holding back a grin, and Jackâs heart thumped in his chest because you knew the effect you had on him. He liked that a little too much. He liked that you werenât afraid of torturing him a little bit after heâd teased you a little too much. It felt intimate, like you were building something real together, something that would certainly last past the night.
âI promise, angel,â he cooed, stroking his finger deeper before adding a second one, watching the way your breath caught on a gasp, biting back a self-satisfied smirk. âThereâs a rule in my kitchen, yâknow,â he went on, talking out of his ass to keep your attention on him even as he finger-fucked your pussy. âGood girls always get to come on the chefâs fingersâand youâve been such a good girl for me, baby.â
You let out a soft, breathy giggle at that, just like Jack had hoped, and he pumped his fingers harder into your wet, gripping cunt, making your laugh devolve into a dirty moan. Your body went loose and languid in his arms, and he rewarded you by pressing his thumb against your clit. He rubbed the little bundle of nerves, watching how you reacted until he found exactly what you liked most.
âThink you can take another, sweetheart?â Jack asked, pressing kisses to your heated cheeks and cleaning away the remnants of your tears with his lips. He trailed his mouth down to your neck, enjoying the way you shivered when his stubble rasped against your sensitive skin. âCan you take one more finger in this sweet cunt, baby?â
âYes, please, chef,â you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin through his thin t-shirt.
Every pinprick became throbbing pleasure as it zinged down to his cock. He hadnât been so close to coming in his pants since he was a teenager, but he fought off his own desire and focused on you. You and your pleasure were what mattered to him, not his dick.
âGood girl,â Jack purred, grinning into your neck when your pussy pulsed at the praise. He eased a third finger into your slick hole, biting back a groan when your tight warmth enveloped him. He pressed his cock against your soft thigh, looking down and watching your pussy take his thick fingers. âFuck, angel, look at youâtaking me so well.â
You leaned back, looking down your body, and Jack knew the moment you saw his fingers disappearing inside your cunt because you clamped down hard around him, like your body was trying to suck him deeper. He stifled another helpless groan, pumping into you, pressing against a spot that had you shivering and moaning wantonly.
You fell back further, planting your hands on the counter to hold yourself up, trying to use your leverage to bear down further on his fingers. But youâd barely rocked your hips in a slow roll when you let out a cryâthe tenor making the hairs on the back of Jackâs neck stand upâas your arms gave out and you fell backward.
Quick as he could, Jack slid his free arm up your back, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to catch you before your head could hit the shelves above the counter. He pulled his hand from between your legs, holding onto your bare thigh with his sticky fingers as he ducked his head to meet your eyes.
âWhatâs wrong, baby? What happened?â he asked, his gaze searching your face, which was twisted like you were trying to hide your pain. âDid I hurt you?â he asked, his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the thought.
You shook your head, rejecting the idea, which calmed Jack for a moment. Until you spoke.
âMy wrist,â you whimpered. âHurts.â
It took all of a second for Jack to understand what had happened. Youâd put too much pressure on the wrist that your worthless excuse of a date had grabbed, had hurt, and it had given out. Rage flooded through Jackâs body, his blood pumping hot with the desire to track down Curtis Larsen and beat him to a bloody pulp.
But Jack knew that wouldnât help anyone, least of all you, so he worked to rein in his anger. He focused on you, making sure you could sit up on your own before taking the hand of your injured wrist in his.
When he held it up to the bright lights in the kitchen, he could see bruises had formed where Curtis had grabbed you. Before he could stop it, a choked off growl rumbled beneath his sternum, the animalistic sound only ceasing when you stroked your palm down his chest, soothing him.
It took Jack another moment to collect himself, to gather his anger and put it in a box to deal with later. Gently, he lifted your hurt wrist to his mouth and brushed the sweetest, softest butterfly kisses over the bruises mottling your skin.
âIâd kill him if I thought I could get away with it,â Jack confessed, hoping to make you giggle again, his eyes lifting to your face to watch your reaction.
Although you didnât laugh, his words did the trick of bringing the spark back into your eye. A shy smile curved the corners of your pretty mouth, and you lifted your other hand to cup Jackâs jaw, your thumb teasing over the stubble on his cheek.
âHeâs not worth the effort,â you said, and though Jack agreed with you, he didnât like the idea of letting Curtis Larsen get away with hurting you.
âHmm,â Jack hummed noncommittally, wondering if he could call the police tomorrow and report the man for assault since itâd happened in his restaurant.
He liked that idea.
He liked the idea of locking up Curtis Larsen and throwing away the key even more. But you were his priority, not that jackass that had been your date, so he focused back on you.
Jack squeezed your thigh, his thumb teasing close to the edge of your panties. âDo you want to keep going, sweetheart?â he asked, his gaze watching you carefully. âI can take you home if youâd prefer.â
The change in your expression was immediate, your lower lip pushing out in a pout, your eyes widening and looking at Jack from under your lashes.
âI want to keep going,â you murmured, almost shyly, meeting Jackâs gaze before it dropped to his mouth. Your free hand fell to his arm, moving his hand from your thigh back between your legs then looking up at him. âI donât want my shitty date to ruin our nightâand you promised me Iâd get to come on your fingers.â
A small smile curved Jackâs mouth and he ducked forward, stealing a quick kiss from your pouting lips before he pulled away. His grin was cocky as he pushed your panties to the side and teased your tight hole with the tips of his fingers.
âYouâre rightâand I always keep my promises, baby,â he assured you, pressing his fingers into your pussy while he watched you closely, making sure he didnât hurt you.
Once they were buried inside you, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your injured wrist, then brought your hand to his shoulder. He gave you a pleased smile when you lifted your other arm to circle loosely around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape.
âHold on to me, angel,â Jack urged, easing his fingers out, then back inside your pussy, feeling your slick, tight cunt stretch around him. He watched your eyes go hazy with lust, your mouth falling open as you panted through your pleasure. âIâll make you feel goodâmake you forget everything that happened tonight before I came to your table.â
With a soft, sweet sigh, you draped your arms over Jackâs shoulders, taking all the weight off your wrists, and leaned forward to nuzzle into the side of his neck. Warmth suffused his body, his cock twitching in his jeans when he felt you press a kiss to the underside of his scruffy jaw.
âThank you, Jack,â you murmured, your voice almost low enough to be drowned out by the quiet whir of machinery in the kitchen. Your warm breath brushed against Jackâs throat and he had to suppress a shiver, focusing on your words. âYouâre all I want to remember about tonight.â
Jackâs arm tightened around your lower back, instinctively pulling you closer as his heart gave a heavy thump in his chest. Your sweet words called to something deep in his soul, something that hadnât been fed in too long for him to be normal about it.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell you he wanted to spend every night with you, that he wanted you in his bed when he woke up in the morning and to come home to you in his kitchen. He wanted to cook for you and take you out and move you in with himâŠ
But Jack knew it was way too soon to be having those thoughts, let alone say them out loud, so he put on the charm, hoping you couldnât tell where his mind had wandered.
âAnd the food, right?â he asked, his tone teasing and light as he fucked you with his fingers again, his thrusts building you back up to where youâd been. He could feel the way your body trembled in his arms, and he held you tighter so he could feel the pleasure work through you. âYou want to remember the food, right, sweetheart?â
You huffed a laugh against Jackâs neck, your tongue darting out and swiping up the side of his throat, making him groan helplessly at the obscene feeling of you licking him. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, his cock grinding against your soft inner thigh.
âOh yes, chef,â you purred in his ear, your voice shaky and breathless and so, so sweet as he pumped his fingers into you harder, his thumb rubbing your clit. âI want to remember everything I got to taste tonight.â
Your words conjured images of your pert mouth on Jackâs cock, your teasing tongue swirling around the tip, licking up his precum before sucking him deep between your soft lips. It was such a hot image, Jack had to duck his head and muffle his tortured groan into your shoulder.
It took him a full minute to get himself together, your giggles echoing softly in the empty kitchen while your nails raked through his silver curls. Once he was able to focus again on the present, Jack pressed his mouth to your collarbone, licking and sucking your skin down to your tits, pushing the top of your dress down so he could take your nipple into his mouth.
The older man was rewarded with a sharp cry from your lips, your spine arching and pressing your tits further into his mouth. Jack grinned into your soft flesh and began to lavish them with his attention, his fingers still working in and out of your pussy while his thumb rubbed your clit in teasing, maddening circles.
It occurred to Jack that he could stay right where he was for a long, long time and be happy to keep sucking on your tits, learning what made you squirm and moan, all while he fucked your cunt with his fingers. But all too soon, you were hovering on the edge of your release, your pussy fluttering around Jackâs fingers, your cries turning high-pitched and desperate while your body worked to find your pleasure.
Your fingers were threaded in his hair, clutching his head tight to your chest as you moaned and rocked your hips harder on his fingers. Mindless pleas were falling from your kiss-swollen lips, frantic appeals for âmoreâ and âharderâ, begging him to give you the release you needed.
Jack was torn between drawing out the moment, making it last forever, and giving you what you wanted. Eventually, his need to take care of you won out, and he pushed his fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb mercilessly rubbing your clit while he lifted his head from your chest.
âCome for me, sweetheart,â he growled in your ear. âShow me what a good girl you are and come all over chefâs fingersâlet go, let me see you come for me.â He pressed his fingers against that spot deep inside your body and stroked your clit, feeling you tighten around him.
Pulling back enough to see your face, Jack watched you succumb to pleasure, your release taking hold of your body and making you throw your head back, a desperate, breathy cry bursting from your mouth. Your fingers tightened in hair, and your pussy clamped down on his fingers, making him work to keep fucking you through the waves of pleasure surging through your body, which trembled in his arms.
âGood girl,â Jack rumbled, his fingers slowly sliding in and out of your pulsing channel, wringing every ounce of bliss from your body. âSweet girl, perfect girl.â
You curled forward and sobbed your pleasure into Jackâs neck, and when you shuddered at the overstimulation of his fingers, he gently eased you down from your peak. Once your release had ebbed, he slipped his fingers out of your body, and helped you to sit up.
âYou gonna keep being a good girl and clean me up, baby?â he asked, touching his wet, dripping fingers to your plump lower lip. Jack didnât know what had come over him, but the desire to see you taste yourself was too great to ignore, and he hoped he wasnât making you uncomfortable.
He was pleased when your already unfocused eyes went even more hazy, your head nodding and a smile curling the edges of your mouth before you parted your lips and let Jack slip his fingers inside. You hummed a happy sound that went straight to Jackâs dick then got to work cleaning your own release from his skin.
It was such an erotic sight that Jack thought he could watch you suck on his fingers for the rest of the night, but then he realized heâd given away the opportunity to taste you himself and he got ridiculously jealous. You werenât done cleaning him up, but he pulled his fingers from between your lips and shoved them into his own mouth.
Jack groaned at your taste, savoring the musky flavor of your pleasure while he held your gaze, letting you watch him lick his fingers clean. Your eyes were hooded and full of renewed lust, your lips swollen and parted as you panted for him.
He couldnât stop himself. Between one breath and the next, his mouth was crushing against yours in a mindless, feral kiss. He could taste your pussy on your tongue when his delved into your mouth and it drove him wild. His arms wrapped around your body, crushing you to his chest while he kissed you harder, groaning when your fingers pressed into his spine and clung to him just as tightly.
âJack, I want more,â you cried when your lips wrenched free from his, your fingers trailing around his ribs and down over his stomach until you could cup his thick erection through his jeans. âI need you inside meâneed you filling me until Iâm so full of your cock, itâs all I can think about.â
âFuck, angel, you beg so pretty, how can I say no?â Jack teased, his voice only a little unsteady. He tried to pull away, but couldnât bring himself to when you were stroking his cock through his pants, wringing desperate whimpers from him that wouldâve embarrassed him if you werenât smiling like the cat that got the cream. âCâmere, baby, let me fill up that greedy pussy of yours.â
But when Jack grabbed your ass and pulled you close to he could thrust into your pussy through your clothes, he felt a twinge of pain in his leg where it rubbed uncomfortably against his prosthetic. The pain shot straight up his spine, making his mind go completely blank for a moment, his breath catching in his lungs.
During work, Jack could typically grit his teeth and bear the pain when it hit, but heâd been on his feet for too long. Heâd pushed himself beyond his own limits and his body was reminding him that he wasnât the young, spry man heâd once been.
âJack?â you asked, your voice thick with concern.
The older man took stock of himself, and realized heâd half collapsed against you, his head on your shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants as he breathed through the pain. Heâd shifted his weight to his one good foot, leaving him a little off-balance and using you to steady himself.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly, stroking your fingers comfortingly through his hair and across his shoulders. When he relaxed into your touch, you held him tighter, not seeming to mind that he was putting some of his weight on you.
âMy prosthetic,â he grumbled, not entirely happy that this was how he was telling you, but not shying away from the truth either. âHurts.â
âYour prosthetic?â you asked after a moment, and Jack paid close attention to the tone of your voice. You sounded confused, maybe a little curious, but Jack was relieved that there wasnât revulsion or, worse, pity in your tone.
âLost my leg while I was in the army,â he explained, taking a deep breath as he began to recover his strength. The pain had subsided, leaving him a little shaky and off-balance, but fine.
âOh, okay,â you said, nothing but acceptance in your tone.
Your fingers were still idly playing with Jackâs hair and that, more than anything else, helped him feel betterâthough he knew heâd have to get off his feet soon. He was trying to work out how to tell you he couldnât fuck you on the counter in this position when you took him by surprise with another question.
âIs that how you got the medal?â
Jack paused. Of all the questions you couldâve askedâand heâd heard most, if not all of themâthat wasnât one heâd anticipated. Most folks didnât know about the medal, and it took him a moment to remember that he kept it on his desk in his office, where youâd spent most of the evening.
The realization that youâd been curious enough about him to look through his desk made his heart soar, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. For some reason, it didnât bother him, you going through his things. It felt right, the idea of you being comfortable in his space.
âWere you snooping through my stuff, sweetheart?â Jack asked teasingly, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze, curious about how youâd react to the question.
He watched your eyes widen slightly, your gaze darting away before returning to his with a sheepish look on your face. âIt was on top of your desk,â you mumbled, shrugging, then wincing at how blithe you sounded. âI didnât go through any drawers or anything, I swear.â
Jack couldnât help but chuckle at how guilty you looked, and he smoothed a hand down your spine in a reassuring gesture. âYouâre adorable,â he murmured, capturing your lips in a kiss to let you know you were forgiven. âAnd yes, itâs how I got the medal. Iâve made peace with it, but sometimes, it makes thingsâŠtricky.â
You nodded somberly as you absorbed that information, your eyes dropping down to where Jack was still half-leaning against you. The chef could practically see the gears turning in your head as you thought, but he was still taken by surprise when you lifted your gaze back to his and asked, âWould it help if I was on top?â
Your question made Jack pause again. Heâd been with his wife already when heâd lost his leg, and sheâd helped him figure out what worked afterward. It had given him the confidence heâd needed to eventually move on after sheâd passed on. But the few flings heâd had since werenât as easily accepting as you, and none of them had been as considerate.
It made Jackâs heart clench in his chest as he realized all over again how glad he was to have found you. Although he wished the circumstances of your meeting were differentâhe wished youâd never been hurt by your dateâhe was grateful that the universe had brought you together.
âYeah, actually, it would,â Jack said, matching your serious tone with his honesty.
It was another moment where the weight of his feelings for you took him by surprise, especially after knowing you for such a short time. In an effort not to scare you away by revealing how he felt, he used his charm to lighten the mood. Ducking his head, he caught your eye and let a smirk play on his lips.
âDo you wanna ride me, baby?â he asked, his tone teasing, his smirk spreading into a full-blown confident grin when lust bloomed in your eyes, none of it tainted by pity or fear or disgust. It made his cock throb for you. âWanna ride chefâs cock and make us both feel good?â
âYes, please, chef. Iâd love to ride you,â you purred, pushing him gently back to give you room to move.
You held his gaze as you reached beneath the hem of your dress and wiggled until youâd yanked your panties off, looking at him expectantly. Jack unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, shoving his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free.
He watched your eyes dart down, then widen when you took in the size of his thick cock. His dick wasnât the longest, but it was fat enough that his three fingers stretching your pussy would feel small in comparison. Suddenly, he hoped you werenât afraid.
It was on the tip of his tongue to reassure you, to tell you that you could stop this at any time and the two of you could go slow if that was what you needed. But before he could get the words out, your eyes lifted to his and he saw the spark of eager excitement in their depths, in the curve of your grin.
You looked like a sultry creature feral with lust, your pretty, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a sensuous smile as you hopped off the counter and prowled closer to him, only wobbling a little in your heels. Jack reached for you at the same moment you spun him around and shoved him onto the counter so you could climb on top of him.
âIâm gonna make us feel sooo good, chef,â you promised, settling your knees on either side of Jackâs hips and rising up, wrapping your fingers around his thick cock. Jackâs hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up so he could see your bare pussy where you rubbed the tip of his dick through your slick folds. âGonna ride your cock until youâre coming hard in my cunt. Tell me you want it, tooâplease, chef.â
For a moment, all words fled Jackâs mind. All he could do was feel the teasing warmth of your pussy kissing the tip of his cock, hear the soft wet sounds of your desire, smell the scent of your arousal. All he could see was you, looking like a goddess above him, promising him pleasure.
Fuck, Jack Abbot really was in heaven, and he hoped he never had to leave.
You were right where you were meant to be.
You couldnât explain what had come over youâwhether it was simply the lust youâd felt at the sight of the older manâs thick cock or if it was everything about the chefâbut you had the sense that everything youâd been through that night was worth it because youâd met Jack Abbot.
He was everything youâd been looking for in a partnerâkind and capable, charming and funnyâand plenty that you hadnât known youâd wanted, like the way he could talk just as dirty as you, and cook way better than you ever could. Heâd been gentle when heâd kissed your injured wrist, but hadnât held back when heâd fucked you with his fingers, giving it to you as rough as you needed to get off.
Jack had made you feel safe and desired. Heâd taken care of you in every way youâd needed throughout the night, and you were in serious danger of falling for him. If you hadnât already. It mightâve been a little crazy, but you mightâve fallen for him already.
The weight of your feelings were too heavy to tell the chef just yet, so you focused instead on the moment, on the feeling of Jackâs broad tip teasing between the lips of your pussy, of the firm grip of his hands on your hips, and the heat of his eyes as he watched you tease his cock.
It was intoxicating, seeing the unrestrained lust in Jackâs face, darkening his hazel eyes and twisting his mouth into something feral and hungry. The thought crossed your mind that you could try to tease him until he snapped, the last remnants of his patience falling away as he yanked you down on his cock. But just the fantasy had you pulsing with need.
You needed Jackâs cock inside you. Immediately.
But before you could start to lower yourself down on Jackâs bare length, you remembered yourself. You paused, hovering above his thick, throbbing cock, and took a breath to steady yourself. Still, your voice was a little shaky as you spoke.
âIâm on birth control; Iâve been tested, and it was clear,â you rushed to say, hoping Jack could understand your words even as they tripped over each other to fall off your tongue. You braced one hand on his shoulder and looked dead in the older manâs eyes. âI want you bare, Jack, please.â
âJesus,â he cursed, letting his head fall against your chest. His shoulders were trembling slightly, and it took a moment for the man to get himself together to look at you. You wanted him without a condom too badly to rush him. âIâm all clear, too, angel,â he rasped, staring into your eyes. âIt would be the honor of my life to fuck you raw, baby.â
Your heart soared, battering against your ribs like a caged bird wanting to take flight. You were so overcome by emotion, by your desire for this man, that you couldnât think of doing anything else but kiss him. Jack cupped your face while your fingers sank into his steel gray curls, both of you holding each other tight as you kissed, hard and deep, with all the wild, unfettered emotion you felt.
Before the kiss even ended, you were already pressing down on his cock, only pulling away from Jackâs mouth when the tip pushed inside your body, the stretch making you gasp. He was wider than anything youâd taken before, and it sent a filthy shiver sliding down your spine as you felt your body straining to take him.
âGod, Jack, youâre soâfuck, youâre so fucking big,â you whimpered, your eyes crossing a little as you lowered yourself another inch, grateful that heâd already finger-fucked you to orgasm once, since it made the slide slightly easier. You shuddered with the effort not to impale yourself all at once, knowing it would be a mistake if you didnât go slow.
âCareful, sweetheart, donât hurt yourself,â Jack warned, but there was a hint of a teasing chuckle in his tone that drove you wild, your pussy clenching around and suckling on the tip of his cock. His words devolved into a pleasured groan that trickled down your spine like warm honey. âFuck, I can feel you squeezing me alreadyâyouâre so tight and warm and wet. Jesus.â
âUh huh, uh huh, so wet for you,â you babbled, bouncing a little on Jackâs cock to take him deeper. Your pussy stretched to accomodate him and the feeling of fullness stole the breath from your lungs. âYouâre splitting me open so good, Jack, fuckâfuck, chef.â
âMm,â Jack hummed, his hands kneading your ass and sliding up your spine beneath your dress, pulling you flush against his chest. His mouth found your neck, pressing kisses to your skin that had you shivering in his arms. âYouâre gonna take it all, arenât ya, baby,â he rumbled into the hollow of your throat, âbecause youâre such a good girl for me, huh?â
You couldnât explain it, but Jackâs words had a ridiculous effect on you, making your pussy gush even more while your heart soared. Your hips rolled, pressing down determinedly and taking his cock nearly to the root, the stretch dragging a gasp from your lips while you clutched the older man close, reveling in the feel of his mouth on your neck.
âYuh huh, your good girl,â you moaned, feeling Jackâs cock deep in your body. It filled you up so good, stretching you nearly to your limit, but youâd gone slow enough that it didnât hurtâjust made you impatient to have all of him.
You squirmed in his lap, lifting up and pressing back down, taking more and more of him with every downward thrust. Jack chuckled darkly as his hands hand returned to your hips, groping you with those thick, skillful fingers of his while he helped you bounce on his cock.
âThatâs right, my good girl,â Jack rumbled, the possessiveness in his voice making your whole body clench, wringing a desperate groan from his mouth. He pulled you closer at the same moment when you spread your knees wide, and the result was your body being finally fully impaled on his cock.
The sudden, complete fullness was a delicious shock to your system and you wrapped yourself tightly around Jack, your arms circling his shoulders while you trembled and adjusted to the size of his fat cock buried in your cunt. It took you a breath to return to the moment, feeling Jackâs hands smoothing over your bare thighs in soothing gestures.
âAtta girl,â Jack praised, pressing a kiss to your sweat-damp temple. âYouâre taking me so well, sweetheart. Feels like you were made for meâmade to take my cock.â
A soft, breathy laugh burst from your lips, because those words were exactly what you wanted to hear, and it surprised you to hear them from Jackâs mouth. It made you feel like you werenât alone in the big, overwhelming feelings you were having too soon for the chef, and you pressed your face into his shoulder to silence yourself before you said something too soon.
Instead, you focused on the feel of Jack. Every little movement of your body had his cock shifting inside your tight channel, his heavy length dragging against your sensitive inner walls, making your surprised laughter turn into a helpless moan.
âYou feel sooo good,â you murmured, rocking your hips and getting lost in sensation. With your head fuzzy and full of pleasure, you sat up enough to look into Jackâs face, staring deep into his eyes. âIf I was made to take anyoneâs cock, Jack, Iâd want it to be yours,â you said, not realizing until the words were out of your mouth just how revealing they were.
But instead of the depth of your desire scaring the chef, his gaze turned more intense, and a flicker of a smile played around the corner of his mouth. He drew you closer, until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth away from his. His eyes were hot and dark as they stared deep into your soul.
âIâm so glad you came into my restaurant tonight, angel,â Jack rasped, so much genuine affection in his tone, it made you melt further into him, your knees squeezing his hips while you clung to his shoulders. âMeeting you has made this the best night of my lifeâI hope youâll let me see you again.â
âOh, Jack,â you whispered, tears stinging your eyes, not from sadness but a boundless happiness. You tried to blink them away, embarrassed to be crying while Jackâs cock was still buried in your body, but the older man didnât seem to mind, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and brushing away the few tears that fell. âIâd really like to see you again, too.â
âGood,â he said, his voice so decisive that you knew it was settled. Your heart soared in your chest, and a smile broke across your face. You couldnât have said which of you leaned forward first, closing the distance so your mouths came together in a kiss, a promise.
The kiss was slow and sensual, one of Jackâs hands cupping the back of your head while you explored each other. It was a delicious kiss, made all the more exquisite when Jackâs tongue licked into your mouth, drawing needy sounds from your lips as he kissed you deeper, like he wanted to remind you that he was buried in more than one of your holes.
You barely noticed when your hips began to rock, fucking yourself on Jackâs big cock. But when his hands dropped to your hips, urging you on, you had to pull away from his mouth with a gasp.
Tossing your head back, you focused on riding your chef, lifting up onto your knees and slamming back down on his hard, thick length. It was dizzyingly glorious, the heat and hardness of him filling your tight hole, punching the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but let out mindless sounds of pleasure.
âThatâs my girl, fuck yourself on my cock,â Jack murmured encouragingly, his hands on your ass helping you lift yourself up and slide back down his stiff shaft. He groaned, loud enough to drown out the wet sounds of your pussy and the soft clap of your ass hitting his thighs. âFuck, angel, you feel so goodâsuch a good girl, riding chefâs cock like a fucking champ.â
A shiver raced down your spine at his praise and your fingers tangled in Jackâs hair, bracing yourself so you could bounce harder on his cock. Every thrust of his dick deep into your cunt was driving your pleasure higher, until your head was filled with clouds and your body was tingling, balancing on the precipice of your release.
âYes, yes, yes, your girl, your good girl,â you panted, your eyes heavy-lidded but still open as you watched Jackâs face, his skin flushed red, making his freckles stand out in stark relief. âPlease, chef, Iâm so closeâplease, I needâŠâ
Your words devolved into a moan as Jack took control of your body, changing the angle of your hips so your clit was grinding against the base of his cock. All you could do was gasp and whimper and whine and try to hold on to him while he helped you ride him.
âMy sweet girl, my perfect girl, my gorgeous girl,â Jack cooed, punctuating his words by pulling you down on his cock over and over and over again, making sure your clit rubbed against him with each thrust. âI know what my girl needsâcome for me, pretty girl. Wanna see you let go, wanna feel you come on my cock, baby, please.â
Jackâs words and the way he guided your body, helping you find your pleasure, were your undoing. Tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core until it suddenly snapped. You were sent tumbling over the edge of your release, every muscle in your body pulling taut before you exploded with a wailing cry, pleasure crashing through you in violent, euphoric waves.
A groan tore from Jackâs mouth and his arms tightened around your body. He held you crushed against his chest, moaning his own pleasure into your neck while his hips jerked between your thighs, fucking you through both your releases.
You clung on to him, your body writhing on top of his as you eked out every bit of bliss from each other, until the waves of your release began to recede. With a sated sigh, you collapsed against the older manâs shoulder, fingers raking idly through his hair while his hands stroked everywhere on your body he could reachâyour hips, your thighs, even down your calves and up your spine beneath your dress.
Between your thighs, you could feel his hot release beginning to leak from your hole, and you squirmed a little at the strange feeling of loss that settled in your gut. Jack pressed one of his palms to your lower back, urging you to settle on his lap, and you let yourself relax, reveling in the feeling of his softening cock still filling your pussy.
After giving you a few moments to recover, Jackâs fingers trailed down the side of your face where your head was laying on his shoulder. He curled a finger around your chin and tilted your head up enough so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.
âAlright, angel girl?â he asked softly, his voice so low and raspy, it sent little tingles dancing down your spine. You smiled against his mouth.
âSooo good,â you answered, your mouth quirking into a smirk as you continued. âOr should I say, âThank you, chef, that really hit the spotâ?â
Jack huffed a surprised laugh, squeezing you tight in his arms as he shook his head. âWhat am I gonna do with you, baby girl?â
It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jack that what he should do was take you back to his place and keep you forever. That thought was so surprisingâyouâd only known him for one night!âand felt so right, that instead of answering, you kissed him.
You could feel the smile on his lips before he kissed you back, and that little expression had you realizing just how fond youâd grown of the chef in such a short time. It was so astonishingly easy to picture yourself going home with Jack, sleeping in his bed, cuddled up in his arms, then having breakfast together in the morning.
The night had started with you not expecting much from your date. You thought maybe youâd hit it off and see him again, but you hadnât dared to have much hope.
And now, the night was ending with you kissing a different man, one youâd only just met, and wanting so much more with him. You wanted to get to know Jack Abbot and see if your initial compatibility and attraction could lead to something more.
For the first time in a long time, you had hope. It felt like everything that had happened earlier in the evening was fate conspiring to bring you and Jack togetherâand you were all too excited to see where things would go.
The best part, you realized, as Jack kissed you back, his mouth moving sensuously against yours, was that he seemed just as excited to get to know you, too. Heâd shown you nothing but green flags all night, and had even already asked to see you again. It felt like something close to magic to know that the man you liked, liked you back.
A smile fluttered at the corner of your mouth as you let yourself focus on kissing Jack, knowing thereâd be time to overthink everything later. For the time being, you wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with your chef, because you were certain it was the beginning of something beautiful.
For a long while, the two of you were making out just for the fun of it, for the enjoyment of being with each other, until Jackâs soft cock slipped from your body and made you shiver. He grabbed his leather jacket from where youâd tossed it on the counter and wrapped it around your shoulders, giving you one last kiss before he began to ease you off his lap.
âIâve got to clean up here,â he said, tucking his cock away and zipping up his jeans before he helped you straighten your dress, his eyes wandering shamelessly over your body, like he hadnât yet had his fill of worshipping you. âOnce Iâm done, I can take you home. Sound good, sweetheart?â
âThat depends,â you said, your fingers snagging in the hem of Jackâs white t-shirt, preventing him from moving too far away. You werenât usually the clingy type, but you couldnât bear to be away from him just yet. âAre you gonna take me back to my place, or yours?â
The older manâs gaze darkened and his hands settled on your hips, pulling you close again. Your arms wound instinctively around his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair in a way that already felt so comfortable and familiar.
âI was planning to take you to your home,â Jack began, a smirk curling his mouth when you pouted up at him from under your lashes. âBut if youâd like, I can take you back to mine.â His eyes softened as he looked at you, his smirk melting into a smile. âIâd love to cook you breakfast, sweetheart.â
The depth of the affection in Jackâs gaze and his words made you feel suddenly shy, and you ducked your head a little. âIâd like that,â you murmured, sneaking a peek at him and finding the chef grinning like heâd just won the lottery. It gave you the confidence to lift your head and give him a confident smirk. âBe careful, though, if you keep making me such delicious food, youâll never get rid of me.â
Something devilish flickered across Jackâs face and his smirk was all smug confidence as he swooped in and stole a kiss from your lips, leaving you breathless when he pulled away a moment later. âThatâs the plan, angel girlâIâm gonna keep you around any way I can until you get sick of me.â
You were already shaking your head before heâd even finished talking, your fingers tugging lightly, admonishingly, on his hair. âThatâll never happen,â you said, your tone more serious than youâd intended. But your honesty was rewarded with Jackâs mouth twisting into a smile and him kissing you again.
It was such a privilege, you realized, to be with someone who wanted you just as badly as you wanted themâwho liked you just as much as you liked them. From the moment youâd met him, Jack had made you feel safe, had taken care of you, had shown you that you were special simply for being you. And you hoped youâd done the same for him.
When Jack finally pulled away from the kiss, you whined a little, making him chuckle. âCâmon, baby girl, letâs clean up and go home,â he rumbled, kissing each of your cheeks, then your nose, before giving you one last kiss on your mouth.
His words and his sweet kisses had you smiling and giggling, and you nodded, your heart warm and light as you let Jack move away to begin cleaning up his workstation. As he did, you fetched your things from his office, turning off the light and closing the door.
By the time youâd returned, Jack was done, and he held his hand out for you to take. You did so happily, handing off your jacket and purse for him to carry when he offered.
Stepping out into the brisk, spring evening, a breeze sweeping through Pittsburgh and making you glad to have Jackâs jacket around your shoulders, you felt like you were leaving the little bubble you and the chef had created. But as you watched him lock up the back door of Night Shift, using only one hand so he could keep holding yours, you knew you didnât need that bubble.
You may have had to endure the date from hell to meet Jack Abbot, but it felt like fate had designed the night so that you ended up right where you were meant to beâwith the hot, older chef who looked at you with so much awe and affection, it made your heart pitter-patter in your chest.
Jack walked you to his car, pushing you gently against the passenger door to kiss you some more before he helped you into the seat. He held your hand as he drove you back to his place, kissing your knuckles every few minutes, then leaning across the center console to kiss your mouth after heâd parked in front of his house.
The two of you didnât talk much as you got ready for bed, but you didnât need to. A comfortable silence had fallen over you and Jack, and you didnât feel the need to fill it, especially with how tired you were. You changed into one of his t-shirts, brushed your teeth with the extra toothbrush he had on hand and cleaned your makeup off your face.
When you slipped into bed beside Jack, he was still massaging his leg, easing the pain heâd felt from wearing his prosthetic all night. You hoped heâd one day let you do that for himâhelp him to relieve the ache of the dayâs grind from his leg, his shoulders, and anywhere else that might pain him.
Before you could gather the courage to offer, though, Jack turned and slid under the sheets beside you. He wrapped you up in his arms, and both of you let out little sighs of contentment. You didnât know what exactly Jack was thinking, but you suspected it felt just as right to him as it did to you to be in his bed and in his arms.
You fell asleep knowing in your heart that you were right where you were meant to beâwith Jack Abbot.
thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
yes yes yes Jack Abbot is a safe space in every universe, especially for your emotions, and he's going to take excellent care of his girl đ ahh i'm so glad you enjoyed this, thank you for reading!! âĄâĄâĄ
pairing: dad's best friend!titus danforth x female reader
summary: you lose a game you didn't even realize you were playing.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), arranged marriage, dubcon, unspecified age gap, referenced devil worship, smut, piv sex, brief painful sex, wedding night sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive sex, possessive behavior, marriage kink, pet names, stockholm syndrome, happy-ish ending?
word count: 2.4k
a/n: i've been struggling to write/finish anything since i posted my chef jack abbot fic, but then the first line of this fic popped into my head and i knew i had to write it. i did not expect to write for titus before pope but i just haven't found the right inspiration yet i guess! this isn't really fleshed out to my normal standards but it's a fun, smutty little read and i hope y'all enjoy it!!
You never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth.
For one, he was your father's best friend.Â
For another, he was so much older than you.Â
For a third, you'd already rejected his proposal.Â
But most of all, you never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth because he was the man responsible for damning your family to hell.
Your father had met Titus when you were in college, and the two had become fast friends. By the time you'd graduated, your father had pledged his undying loyaltyâand that of your familyâto Mr. Le Bail and his High Council.Â
In the months and years that followed, you came to learn more about the council as a network of rich and powerful people who helped each other out. It was during this time when you met Titus and his twin sister Ursula.Â
They were both polite, but when Titus looked at you, there was something covetous and hungry in his eyes; it made you feel like a prey animal being stalked by a predator.Â
Still, you remained cordial with the Danforths because they were close with your father.
That is, until Titus proposed to you, and you discovered the truth about who, or rather what, Mr. Le Bail was. Then, you ran.Â
You cut ties from your entire family, changed your name, and moved to some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. For a long time, you lived in fear, thinking your family or one of the Danforthsâor Mr. Le Bail himselfâwere going to show up at your door.Â
But eventually, your fear settled down, you became complacent, and you set down some roots. Not too manyâyou didn't date and you never got too close to any of your friends, but you made a life for yourself. It was a half-life, but it was yours.
Until it wasn't.
Until the day that Titus Danforth appeared on your doorstep and you learned you'd never escaped after all. The High Council had known where you were all along, but they'd been delayed in coming to fetch you because your father had assured them you would return one day.
But their patience had grown thin and you knew too much to shirk your duties to Mr. Le Bail. As a daughter of a council member, you were expected to marry and reproduce, to create progeny to continue worshipping Mr. Le Bail and do his bidding in the world.
It was only your father's assurances that you would submit to your duties that saved your life. It was decided that you would marry Titus Danforth, the only member of the High Council who had not yet taken a wife.Â
You were dragged, kicking and screaming, to the Danforth estate for your wedding. You refused to see your father or any member of your family, so you were stuffed unceremoniously into your pristine white wedding gown by the Danforthsâ attendants.Â
The wedding itself was a small affair, only attended by the closest members of the High Council, and your family. Your father walked you down the aisle to keep up pretenses but as he handed you off to Titus, you turned to him, caught his eye through your thin, white veil, and hissed your parting words to the man who'd given you life.
"I'll never forgive you for this."
Titus smirked at your father as he took your hand in his, looking for all the world like a man who'd won a game no one else knew they were playing. He led you the final few steps up to the altar, ducking his head slightly to speak in your ear.
"I always knew I'd be the one to get you."
It was then that you realized the depth of Titus's deception. After youâd rejected his proposal, he'd conspired for years to make sure you still ended up marrying him. And you'd played right into his hand. You'd given him everything he neededâleverage over your father, a way to steal you from your family, and worst of all, he'd gotten Mr. Le Bail's blessing to do it.
You spent the signing of the book and the wedding ceremony cursing yourself for being so naive, barely paying attention to the lawyerâs words about devotion and duty. You were so deep into your self-recrimination, you barely noticed when Titus turned to you and began lifting your veil. It took all your effort to maintain control of your face and give your soon-to-be husband a look of disdain.
It didn't seem to bother Titus in the least. That covetous, hungry look was plain as day on his face as he stared at your mouth. He barely waited for the lawyer to give him permission before he was grabbing your face and pulling you toward him.
Titus's mouth crashed against yours, and your traitorous body reacted instantlyâyour belly swooping and a hot, pulsing throb beginning between your thighs. You tried to gasp for air only for Titus to kiss you harder, his tongue invading your mouth and staking his claim so vehemently, it made your knees week.Â
It was bad enough how good his mouth felt on yours, but the sounds he made, like he was a starving man eating his first meal in years, had lust blooming disloyally in your body.Â
Your new husband devoured you voraciously, licking into your mouth and stealing the breath from your lungs until you were dizzy and dazed, wobbling so badly on your feet that when he finally pulled away, you collapsed against his chest.
Titus's arms wrapped around your waist, crushing you to him like a child might hold a toy he worried someone might steal from him. His head lowered until his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver in his tight hold.
"And now, you're all mine."
Those words echoed in your head as you went through the motions for the rest of the ceremony and reception. While you shook hands and accepted the congratulations of your family and the High Council, all you could hear was the feral possessiveness in Titus's voice.Â
It shocked you how much you didn't hate it.
You only returned to yourself when the door to Titus's suite at the estate clicked shut, the lock sliding into place with a resounding thud, like the period on the end of a sentence. It marked the end of your old lifeâand the beginning of your new one.
Titus was on you before you could even turn around or get your bearings. His hands grabbed your hips and spun you to him, his lips claiming yours even more ferociously than they did at the wedding ceremony. He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed, tearing the bodice of your dress so he could reach inside and palm your tits.
Desire warred with disgust in your body, though you didn't fight your husband as he pushed you down onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Titus's eyes glittered with a darkness that had your heart beating faster, your pulse pounding between your thighs when his expression turned greedy and he took his time looking his fill.
You were splayed on the bed beneath him, your tits out, chest heaving from all the breath he'd stolen during his kisses. But that wasn't enough for your new husband. He growled his frustration, got down from the bed and began ripping the skirt of your dress to shreds, until you were bared entirely for him from the waist down.Â
All of a sudden, you realized the error in your judgement when you'd gotten dressed. Along with the wedding gown, a set of lacy lingerie had been set out for you, and you'd chosen to forgo wearing it. But that meant that when Titus tore through your dress, all that was left was you.Â
At least you didn't seem to disappoint your new husband.Â
Titus's hazel eyes blazed bright and hungry as his gaze raked ravenously over your body, taking in the curves of your hips, the plushness of your thighs and line of your legs. His hands settled on your knees, and with surprising gentleness, he eased your thighs open for him, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest when he laid his eyes upon the delicate petals of your sex.
"This is mine," Titus snarled, his eyes flicking up to yours as if he expected you to protest. His hand cupped your pussy, his palm cool against your heated core, his wedding ring hard and unyielding against your soft, naked flesh. "All of you belongs to me now, but this, especially, is mine."Â
All you could do was nod mutely, but that didn't seem to be good enough for your new husband, because his face contorted into a furious glare. It was obscene how hot he looked when he was angry, his eyes sharp and narrow as a blade.
"Did you hear me, wife?"Â
You nodded more vigorously, rushing to say, "Yesâyes, husband. It's yours, I'm yours.â The words babbled out of you so easily, it felt like a betrayal as much as a submission to your new husband.
You'd never thought, all those years ago when you first met him, that you would marry Titus Danforth. Nor did you ever think you'd submit so easily to him as his wife. But that was exactly what you did on your wedding night.
It took very little effort to allow Titus to climb on top of you, to take his cock out when he ordered you, to line up the tip of his thick shaft with your entrance. It took embarrassingly little effort to spread your thighs wide around Titus's broad body and accept his cock into your cunt.Â
Your new husband pushed deep into your pussy with one thrust, stretching you so quickly that it stung, even as it felt deliriously good to be filled. He claimed your body as wholly as he'd claimed your mouth, wringing a cry from your lips that he swallowed down greedily.Â
Every part of youâyour pleasure, your painâit all belonged to him.
Without giving you time to adjust, Titus set a savage pace, fucking you into his bed with your wedding dress in tatters around you. He was still mostly dressed, an ascot tied around his neck, his jacket buttoned tight and his pants only undone enough to free his cock. It was as if all that mattered to him had been getting inside you, claiming you, and once he'd started, he couldn't stop.Â
You held on tight to your new husband as he fucked you, his mouth breaking away from yours only to whisper filthy things in your earâthings about how he was going to use your body in every way he wanted. He was going to bend you over his father's desk, claim you in his sister's bed, set you free in the woods around the estate so he could chase you down and ravage you on the forest floor.Â
And every time he'd fuck you, he promised, he'd cum deep inside your cunt, right against your cervix, until he knocked you up. He was going to fill you with his seed until it took, and you were going to give him an heir.Â
But not just the one. Oh no. That wasnât enough.
On your wedding night, while Titus fucked you for the first time, your new husband vowed that he would keep you pregnant until you gave him a whole horde of childrenâa whole new generation of Danforths who would serve Mr. Le Bail and carry on the family legacy.
And the worst part was, you'd always wanted a big family.Â
Your heart squeezed with yearning at the thought of having so many children to love and dote on. It no longer mattered that those children's father would be a man who'd manipulated you into marrying him. All that mattered was that Titus wanted them to, and that he promised to be a good father to themâbetter than his had ever been.
"Cum on my cock, sweet wife. Let your husband fill you up, let me knock you up. Make me a daddy and I'll give you the world, pretty girl. I'll be such a good dad, such a good husband, just give me an heir."
Titus slipped his hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly and making you cry out as you felt his cock pound into your cunt more acutely. He felt thicker and bigger than before. With more rasping, filthy commands, his thumb found your clit and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed until you saw stars.Â
The whirlwind of your pleasure built in your body until it unleashed, sending you spiraling through a torrent of euphoria as you came. Your cunt clenched tight around Titus's cock and he grunted, fucking you through your release as he chased his own, finding it a few moments later.
True to his word, Titus spilled deep in your pussy, your inner muscles milking him dry as your body conspired with your new husband to give him the child both of you so desperately wanted.Â
Once he was wrung out, Titus collapsed on top of you. His weight was a delicious blanket, and your mind was delightfully blank after such an obliterating orgasm. That was the only reason you could think of for why your hands found Titus's hair and your fingers began carding through his silver curls.Â
You barely knew what you were doing until he gave a pleased rumble. His cheek was pillowed on your breast and he shifted, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, sending little sparks of desire down between your thighs.
"You'll see," he mumbled, his eyes slowly sliding closed, his softening cock still buried in your body. "It's not so bad to be mine."Â
You held your husband close, taking shelter in his warmth as the contentment from your release abated and you were left with the cold, hard truth of your life. For better or worse, you were married to Titus Danforth, and you had pledged your soul to Mr. Le Bail. The life you'd wanted was gone.
You never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth, but here you were. His wife. The only thing you could do was make the best of it. So that was what you'd endeavor to do.
And it turned out, your husband hadn't been lyingâit wasn't so bad belonging to him.
thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
pairing: dad's best friend!titus danforth x female reader
summary: you lose a game you didn't even realize you were playing.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), arranged marriage, dubcon, unspecified age gap, referenced devil worship, smut, piv sex, brief painful sex, wedding night sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive sex, possessive behavior, marriage kink, pet names, stockholm syndrome, happy-ish ending?
word count: 2.4k
a/n: i've been struggling to write/finish anything since i posted my chef jack abbot fic, but then the first line of this fic popped into my head and i knew i had to write it. i did not expect to write for titus before pope but i just haven't found the right inspiration yet i guess! this isn't really fleshed out to my normal standards but it's a fun, smutty little read and i hope y'all enjoy it!!
You never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth.
For one, he was your father's best friend.Â
For another, he was so much older than you.Â
For a third, you'd already rejected his proposal.Â
But most of all, you never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth because he was the man responsible for damning your family to hell.
Your father had met Titus when you were in college, and the two had become fast friends. By the time you'd graduated, your father had pledged his undying loyaltyâand that of your familyâto Mr. Le Bail and his High Council.Â
In the months and years that followed, you came to learn more about the council as a network of rich and powerful people who helped each other out. It was during this time when you met Titus and his twin sister Ursula.Â
They were both polite, but when Titus looked at you, there was something covetous and hungry in his eyes; it made you feel like a prey animal being stalked by a predator.Â
Still, you remained cordial with the Danforths because they were close with your father.
That is, until Titus proposed to you, and you discovered the truth about who, or rather what, Mr. Le Bail was. Then, you ran.Â
You cut ties from your entire family, changed your name, and moved to some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. For a long time, you lived in fear, thinking your family or one of the Danforthsâor Mr. Le Bail himselfâwere going to show up at your door.Â
But eventually, your fear settled down, you became complacent, and you set down some roots. Not too manyâyou didn't date and you never got too close to any of your friends, but you made a life for yourself. It was a half-life, but it was yours.
Until it wasn't.
Until the day that Titus Danforth appeared on your doorstep and you learned you'd never escaped after all. The High Council had known where you were all along, but they'd been delayed in coming to fetch you because your father had assured them you would return one day.
But their patience had grown thin and you knew too much to shirk your duties to Mr. Le Bail. As a daughter of a council member, you were expected to marry and reproduce, to create progeny to continue worshipping Mr. Le Bail and do his bidding in the world.
It was only your father's assurances that you would submit to your duties that saved your life. It was decided that you would marry Titus Danforth, the only member of the High Council who had not yet taken a wife.Â
You were dragged, kicking and screaming, to the Danforth estate for your wedding. You refused to see your father or any member of your family, so you were stuffed unceremoniously into your pristine white wedding gown by the Danforthsâ attendants.Â
The wedding itself was a small affair, only attended by the closest members of the High Council, and your family. Your father walked you down the aisle to keep up pretenses but as he handed you off to Titus, you turned to him, caught his eye through your thin, white veil, and hissed your parting words to the man who'd given you life.
"I'll never forgive you for this."
Titus smirked at your father as he took your hand in his, looking for all the world like a man who'd won a game no one else knew they were playing. He led you the final few steps up to the altar, ducking his head slightly to speak in your ear.
"I always knew I'd be the one to get you."
It was then that you realized the depth of Titus's deception. After youâd rejected his proposal, he'd conspired for years to make sure you still ended up marrying him. And you'd played right into his hand. You'd given him everything he neededâleverage over your father, a way to steal you from your family, and worst of all, he'd gotten Mr. Le Bail's blessing to do it.
You spent the signing of the book and the wedding ceremony cursing yourself for being so naive, barely paying attention to the lawyerâs words about devotion and duty. You were so deep into your self-recrimination, you barely noticed when Titus turned to you and began lifting your veil. It took all your effort to maintain control of your face and give your soon-to-be husband a look of disdain.
It didn't seem to bother Titus in the least. That covetous, hungry look was plain as day on his face as he stared at your mouth. He barely waited for the lawyer to give him permission before he was grabbing your face and pulling you toward him.
Titus's mouth crashed against yours, and your traitorous body reacted instantlyâyour belly swooping and a hot, pulsing throb beginning between your thighs. You tried to gasp for air only for Titus to kiss you harder, his tongue invading your mouth and staking his claim so vehemently, it made your knees week.Â
It was bad enough how good his mouth felt on yours, but the sounds he made, like he was a starving man eating his first meal in years, had lust blooming disloyally in your body.Â
Your new husband devoured you voraciously, licking into your mouth and stealing the breath from your lungs until you were dizzy and dazed, wobbling so badly on your feet that when he finally pulled away, you collapsed against his chest.
Titus's arms wrapped around your waist, crushing you to him like a child might hold a toy he worried someone might steal from him. His head lowered until his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver in his tight hold.
"And now, you're all mine."
Those words echoed in your head as you went through the motions for the rest of the ceremony and reception. While you shook hands and accepted the congratulations of your family and the High Council, all you could hear was the feral possessiveness in Titus's voice.Â
It shocked you how much you didn't hate it.
You only returned to yourself when the door to Titus's suite at the estate clicked shut, the lock sliding into place with a resounding thud, like the period on the end of a sentence. It marked the end of your old lifeâand the beginning of your new one.
Titus was on you before you could even turn around or get your bearings. His hands grabbed your hips and spun you to him, his lips claiming yours even more ferociously than they did at the wedding ceremony. He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed, tearing the bodice of your dress so he could reach inside and palm your tits.
Desire warred with disgust in your body, though you didn't fight your husband as he pushed you down onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Titus's eyes glittered with a darkness that had your heart beating faster, your pulse pounding between your thighs when his expression turned greedy and he took his time looking his fill.
You were splayed on the bed beneath him, your tits out, chest heaving from all the breath he'd stolen during his kisses. But that wasn't enough for your new husband. He growled his frustration, got down from the bed and began ripping the skirt of your dress to shreds, until you were bared entirely for him from the waist down.Â
All of a sudden, you realized the error in your judgement when you'd gotten dressed. Along with the wedding gown, a set of lacy lingerie had been set out for you, and you'd chosen to forgo wearing it. But that meant that when Titus tore through your dress, all that was left was you.Â
At least you didn't seem to disappoint your new husband.Â
Titus's hazel eyes blazed bright and hungry as his gaze raked ravenously over your body, taking in the curves of your hips, the plushness of your thighs and line of your legs. His hands settled on your knees, and with surprising gentleness, he eased your thighs open for him, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest when he laid his eyes upon the delicate petals of your sex.
"This is mine," Titus snarled, his eyes flicking up to yours as if he expected you to protest. His hand cupped your pussy, his palm cool against your heated core, his wedding ring hard and unyielding against your soft, naked flesh. "All of you belongs to me now, but this, especially, is mine."Â
All you could do was nod mutely, but that didn't seem to be good enough for your new husband, because his face contorted into a furious glare. It was obscene how hot he looked when he was angry, his eyes sharp and narrow as a blade.
"Did you hear me, wife?"Â
You nodded more vigorously, rushing to say, "Yesâyes, husband. It's yours, I'm yours.â The words babbled out of you so easily, it felt like a betrayal as much as a submission to your new husband.
You'd never thought, all those years ago when you first met him, that you would marry Titus Danforth. Nor did you ever think you'd submit so easily to him as his wife. But that was exactly what you did on your wedding night.
It took very little effort to allow Titus to climb on top of you, to take his cock out when he ordered you, to line up the tip of his thick shaft with your entrance. It took embarrassingly little effort to spread your thighs wide around Titus's broad body and accept his cock into your cunt.Â
Your new husband pushed deep into your pussy with one thrust, stretching you so quickly that it stung, even as it felt deliriously good to be filled. He claimed your body as wholly as he'd claimed your mouth, wringing a cry from your lips that he swallowed down greedily.Â
Every part of youâyour pleasure, your painâit all belonged to him.
Without giving you time to adjust, Titus set a savage pace, fucking you into his bed with your wedding dress in tatters around you. He was still mostly dressed, an ascot tied around his neck, his jacket buttoned tight and his pants only undone enough to free his cock. It was as if all that mattered to him had been getting inside you, claiming you, and once he'd started, he couldn't stop.Â
You held on tight to your new husband as he fucked you, his mouth breaking away from yours only to whisper filthy things in your earâthings about how he was going to use your body in every way he wanted. He was going to bend you over his father's desk, claim you in his sister's bed, set you free in the woods around the estate so he could chase you down and ravage you on the forest floor.Â
And every time he'd fuck you, he promised, he'd cum deep inside your cunt, right against your cervix, until he knocked you up. He was going to fill you with his seed until it took, and you were going to give him an heir.Â
But not just the one. Oh no. That wasnât enough.
On your wedding night, while Titus fucked you for the first time, your new husband vowed that he would keep you pregnant until you gave him a whole horde of childrenâa whole new generation of Danforths who would serve Mr. Le Bail and carry on the family legacy.
And the worst part was, you'd always wanted a big family.Â
Your heart squeezed with yearning at the thought of having so many children to love and dote on. It no longer mattered that those children's father would be a man who'd manipulated you into marrying him. All that mattered was that Titus wanted them to, and that he promised to be a good father to themâbetter than his had ever been.
"Cum on my cock, sweet wife. Let your husband fill you up, let me knock you up. Make me a daddy and I'll give you the world, pretty girl. I'll be such a good dad, such a good husband, just give me an heir."
Titus slipped his hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly and making you cry out as you felt his cock pound into your cunt more acutely. He felt thicker and bigger than before. With more rasping, filthy commands, his thumb found your clit and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed until you saw stars.Â
The whirlwind of your pleasure built in your body until it unleashed, sending you spiraling through a torrent of euphoria as you came. Your cunt clenched tight around Titus's cock and he grunted, fucking you through your release as he chased his own, finding it a few moments later.
True to his word, Titus spilled deep in your pussy, your inner muscles milking him dry as your body conspired with your new husband to give him the child both of you so desperately wanted.Â
Once he was wrung out, Titus collapsed on top of you. His weight was a delicious blanket, and your mind was delightfully blank after such an obliterating orgasm. That was the only reason you could think of for why your hands found Titus's hair and your fingers began carding through his silver curls.Â
You barely knew what you were doing until he gave a pleased rumble. His cheek was pillowed on your breast and he shifted, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, sending little sparks of desire down between your thighs.
"You'll see," he mumbled, his eyes slowly sliding closed, his softening cock still buried in your body. "It's not so bad to be mine."Â
You held your husband close, taking shelter in his warmth as the contentment from your release abated and you were left with the cold, hard truth of your life. For better or worse, you were married to Titus Danforth, and you had pledged your soul to Mr. Le Bail. The life you'd wanted was gone.
You never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth, but here you were. His wife. The only thing you could do was make the best of it. So that was what you'd endeavor to do.
And it turned out, your husband hadn't been lyingâit wasn't so bad belonging to him.
thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
summary: when your already bad date takes a turn for the worse, the head chef of the restaurant comes to see what he can do to help. when he offers to give you a tour of the kitchen, you jump at the chance to escape, and your bad night turns into something else entirely.
warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), some verbal and physical abuse against reader during her date, reader sustains a minor injury (bruised wrist), some hurt/comfort, unspecified age gap, porn with feelings, kinda instalove, eventual smut, dry humping, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, big cock, cock warming, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, come eating, marking/hickeys, sorta scent kink, dirty talk, chef kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby), aftercare, happy ending
word count: 26.0k
a/n: it's finally hereeeee!!! i've been working on nothing else but this fic for the last month and it's finally done đźâđšđ it was inspired by Shawn Hatosy's Quinn audio (although i haven't actually listened to it yet). i just had to write something for chef!Jack Abbot, and i'm really happy with how this turned out! it feels almost like a smutty little romance novella, which i think is cool. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!
if you'd rather read the fic broken down into chapters, check it out on AO3
âHey, chef.â
With just those two words, Jack Abbot knew his night was about to take a turn for the worse. Nothing good could come from the underlying urgency and overt hesitance in the voice of one of his servers, Nazely Toomarian.
But Jack also knew, from his years as head chef and owner of one of Pittsburghâs most popular fine dining restaurants, Night Shift, that it wasnât Nazelyâs fault. No, it was very likely to be one of the insufferable guests who frequented his restaurant who ruined his night.
So Jack swallowed his sigh, kept stirring the sauce of that nightâs special, and glanced at his server, giving her a nod to go on.
âWeâve got a situation in the dining room.â
Of course they did.
Jack finally let loose the sigh that had been building between his ribs, wondering distractedly if the situation was some jagoff businessmanâs card declining, an impossible-to-please socialite sending every bite of her food back, or if another influencer was insisting on getting their meal comped in exchange for free publicity on their Instagram or TikTok or whatever.
Jack knew he was old and out of touchâthat was why heâd hired one of the daytime servers, Victoria Javadi, to run the restaurantâs social mediaâbut he also knew a scam when he saw it. Someone who genuinely wanted to work with him asked about partnership deals before eating an entire meal they expected to be free.
Grumbling about influencers under his breath, Jack gave the sauce on the stove one last stir, adding a little more salt, then handed the wooden spoon off to his sous chef, John Shen. Quickly, but methodically, Jack took off his gloves, turned to Nazely, and tucked his arms behind his backâa remnant from his days in the army.
âWhat kind of a situation?â Jack asked, his voice calm and measured even as he was already preparing himself for the worst.
The chef listened attentively as his server explained what had brought her back into the kitchen with that concerned look in her eyes. The frown on Jackâs face deepened the more he heard about the date going decidedly bad in his dining room.
Finally, Nazely finished up her story with a breathless, âDo you want me to have security handle it?â
Jack knew it was the easiest solution, to call security and have them escort the man creating the situation out of the restaurant. But it would cause a scene, and everyone else in the packed restaurant would be talking more about what had happened than his food.
It would be better for Night Shiftâs business if Jack could remedy the situation himself, as quietly as possible.
Instead of answering his serverâs question, Jack walked to the double swinging doors that led out to the dining room. He peered through the window, feeling a bit like a king overlooking his kingdom, and he had a sudden, fierce impulse to protect it.
âWhich table was it?â Jack asked, glancing back at Nazely, whoâd followed him to the doors.
âTable 12,â she answered quickly.
Jack looked out across the sea of glamorous guests dining in his restaurant, a swell of pride in his heart when he saw beyond the expensive clothes and glitzy jewelry to the smiles and laughter of people enjoying his food. In his heart of hearts, Jack just wanted to make food people liked eating, and it never failed to overwhelm him when he got a chance to see the delight he brought to complete strangers whoâd entrusted their time and money to him.
Pushing those thoughts and feelings aside for the moment, Jack focused back on the room, his eyes tracking along the tables until he found the one Nazely had indicated. For the first time in a long time, Jack Abbotâs heart skipped a beat and he froze at the sight in front of him.
The first thing about you that rendered Jack speechless was your mouth, the curve of your lips, the tension around the edges as you hid a frown behind a sip of wine. Jack knew, instinctively, that your lips would look gorgeous when you smiled, that your mouth would look exquisite while eating his foodâand he knew, too, that heâd do anything to make you smile, to feed you, to take care of you.
Jack shook his head at those thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the situation Nazely had told him about, the date going irreparably sideways.
Still, the chef couldnât help but rake his eyes over you, telling himself he was simply assessing how much distress you were in. Jack noted the stiffness in your shoulders, how you were curling in on yourself slightly, like your body was trying to protect itself. He also noticed the pretty color of your eyes, the curve of your cheekbones, the sweep of your dress at it fell across your thighs.
You were beautiful, enchanting in a way Jack hadnât experienced in a long, long timeâand you were miserable. That much was clear from your body language and the way you regarded your date with no small amount of disgust and fear deep in your pretty eyes.
Finally, the chef dragged his gaze across your table to your date.
Immediately, Jack didnât like the arrogant slant of the manâs shoulders, the imperious tilt of his chin, or the pompous way he held his glass as he spoke and drank. Even the way the man took a sip of wine, smacking his lips before resuming his tirade where heâd left off, made anger coil like a poised predator in Jackâs gut.
Something shifted in the man, and Jack looked back at you, seeing indignant rage boiling beneath the surface of your expression. Jack watched you say something through bared teeth, hissing at your date like you were trying not to make a scene.
Your hands were braced against the edge of the table, and you pushed to standâbut then your date moved to stop you, grabbing your wrist, and something in Jack snapped.
Later, heâd tell himself he wouldâve had the same reaction if any man had put his hands on a woman in his restaurant. But in that moment, he was driven almost entirely by the edge of something else threaded through the fury in his chestâsomething greedy and selfish that you, and only you, had inspired in him.
âIâll handle this myself,â Jack growled, tossing the words over his shoulder at Nazely without taking his eyes off where your dateâs hand was still wrapped around your wrist, holding you chained to the table like a misbehaving pet.
All Jack could think, as he strode across the dining room, his chest churning with wrath and violence, was that it was a good thing he didnât have a knife in his hand.
You were on the date from hell.
And the worst part? You werenât even sure when everything had gone wrong.
Was it when youâd let your coworker set you up with her boyfriendâs best friend, a man named Curtis Larsen?
Was it when youâd gotten your hopes up and donned your favorite dressâthe black fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places and showing off your legsâonly for Curtis not to say a word when he picked you up from your office building in downtown Pittsburgh?
Was it when you decided you could put up with his pretentious posturing about his job and his golf game to enjoy one night at Night Shift, the restaurant youâd always wanted to try but could never afford?
Hiding a sigh by taking a sip of your wineâa bitter red youâd never have ordered for yourselfâyou decided that was probably when things had gone wrong.
From the moment youâd gotten into Curtisâs car, heâd been nothing but insufferable. You shouldâve left before walking into the restaurant, but youâd heard such good things about Night Shift, and its head chef Jack Abbot, that youâd ignored your instincts and soldiered on.
You were rewarded for your selfishness by watching Curtis talk down to everyone he came acrossâthe hostess, who sat you in the middle of the dining room only for Curtis to complain you werenât in one of the booths; the server, who tried to recite the nightâs specials only to be interrupted by Curtis asking about a specific dish; the sommelier, who had to put up with Curtis acting like he knew more about wine than the man whose job it was.
It was all you could do to offer the restaurant workers apologetic smiles and slip them some money from your own purse when Curtis wasnât looking. You tried to grin and bear it, to soak up the ambience of the restaurant despite the black hole of unearned smugness sitting across from you.
Truthfully, Night Shift was spectacular enough to almost distract you from your horrible date and everything that was wrong with him.
The space was decorated in rich, emerald greens and dark, roughhewn wood, with real, lustrous plants and other greenery breaking up the dining room to give each table a pretense of privacy. Warm candles and low lighting gave the restaurant an intimate atmosphere, even while it was packed full.
All told, Night Shift was the perfect place for a date. It was too bad you were there with a man who mightâve been worse than the devil.
You were hiding another frown behind a sip of your disgusting wine when Curtis launched into a tirade about how the woman heâd marry should have a respectable job and make a good salaryâand sheâd also be responsible for keeping his house clean and taking care of his kids.
It took all of your self-control to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You werenât exactly surprisedâyouâd been set up with enough financial analysts like Curtis to know a lot of them were useless assholes who wanted a mommy more than a wife. But you could feel your desire to put up with the date for the sake of trying Night Shiftâs food slipping away, and you hadnât even ordered your appetizers yet.
Resolving to treat yourself to a dinner at Night Shift for your next birthday, you interrupted Curtisâs egotistical diatribe about modern women and tried to politely excuse yourself. You were kinder than you thought he deserved when you told him you didnât think the two of you were a good fit and it would save you both some time to cut the date short.
But Curtisâs eyes flashed in a way that had fear suddenly bursting in your gut, and his expression turned mean as he leaned forward across the small table, invading your space.
âThe date isnât over until I say itâs over,â Curtis said, his voice so cold, you froze in your seat. âYouâre not going anywhere.â
For a moment, you sat in your seat in surprise. Youâd been on some bad dates, and while some of the men had reacted badly when youâd left early, none of them had scared you the way Curtis was. There was something so aggressive about the way he spoke, and it was then that you noticed a strange haze in his eyes.
Was he⊠high?
Thankfully, a sever mustâve caught Curtisâs words, or his tone of voice, because she came over to check on you. Her brown eyes were sharp, but kind as they stayed fixed on you, asking if everything was okay.
âWeâre fine,â you told her weakly, giving her the most reassuring smile you could offer while silently begging her to help you somehow. You didnât want to make a scene, and you were sure the restaurant didnât want that either, but you would if you needed to.
Thatâs what you hoped to convey, and you thought the server mightâve understood because she gave a firm nod and headed off with a determined spring in her step. You saw her walk quickly toward the kitchen before your attention was diverted by Curtis.
âYou better not embarrass me in front of the staff,â Curtis was saying, clutching his wine glass a little too tight and swirling the liquid enough that you worried heâd spill some on the expensive decor. âI bring a lot of high-profile clients here, I canât have you leaving earlyâyou know how people like them talk.â
The fear youâd felt melted away in the face of indignant anger on behalf of the restaurant staffâwho Curtis had treated like garbage since heâd walked in. It was a miracle he was even allowed in the doors after what youâd seen that evening.
âWhat kind of people is that exactly?â you asked, quiet fury lacing your voice. You could put up with the indignity of being ordered around by your date, but you wouldnât sit by and listen to him disparage the people whoâd only tried to help the two of you that evening.
Curtis clearly didnât hear the warning in your tone, because he gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, gesturing thoughtlessly with his hand holding his wine. Some sloshed over the edge, spilling on the floor.
âYou know, low-class people.â
There was so much casual disdain dripping from his voice, you had to wonder, if Curtis was such a regular at Night Shift, why hadnât the sommelier poisoned him alreadyâitâs not like the world wouldnât be better off without your date, who was somehow still talking.
âThe type of people too poor to get a real jobâlike us,â Curtis said, fixing you with what he clearly thought was a winning smile. It did not make him look like a winner.
At the implication that you were anything like Curtis, your stomach roiled unpleasantly, and you were suddenly afraid that what little wine youâd drank was about to come back up.
That was it, youâd officially reached the end of your patience. You didnât care if it caused a scene, you couldnât spend another moment in this manâs presence without vomiting.
âYouâre a small-dicked, pathetic excuse for a man, Curtis Larsen,â you hissed at him, trying to keep your fury in check as you braced your hands against the edge of the table and moved to stand. âAnd I would fuck every one of the people who worked here before I let you anywhere near me ââ
As you pushed yourself up from the table, Curtis reached for you quicker than you wouldâve expected, snatching your wrist in his big, meaty hand. He yanked on your arm hard enough that you sat back down, biting back a cry as a jolt of pain shot through your shoulder.
âDonât you dare fucking try to leave,â Curtis snarled, his face contorted into an ugly mask of rage. It was clearer, in that moment, that he was high. It was making him more aggressive, so even when you tried to pull free of his grasp, he held on tighter, hurting you even more.
Just then, movement over Curtisâs shoulder caught your attention and your gaze snagged on a man pushing through the door to the kitchen, an air of violence and vengeance about him that made your heart leap in hope. He carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence weak-willed men like Curtis could only dream of, and he was heading straight for your table.
In the brief time it took the man to make his way through the dining room, you took stock of his appearance. The first thing you noticed was how handsome he was. Silvery, steel gray curls were swept back from his face, giving you a clear view of his sharp, hazel eyes, straight nose and a soft mouth bracketed by short stubble.
The man was clearly older than you, in his 50s, but he looked competent and put together in a way that had your belly swooping as your eyes raked down his body. A plain white t-shirt stretched around his bulging biceps, freckles dusted down his tanned, weathered arms. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were accentuated by the brown apron hanging from his neck.
Something about the man looked familiar, like youâd seen him somewhere before, but between the pain in your wrist, the fear inspired by Curtisâs aggressive change in mood, and the sudden attraction you felt toward the handsome chef, you couldnât place him.
At least, not until you looked back at his face and saw the intent determination in his expression. It was the same exceedingly hot look heâd been wearing in the photos youâd seenâthe ones in the article about Night Shift and its chef-slash-owner.
You realized, with sudden clarity, two very important things: The man approaching your table was the restaurantâs owner and world-renowned head chef, Jack Abbot. And he looked furious enough about the way Curtis was still holding on to you that he was liable to murder your date.
Jack Abbot could not kill a restaurant guest.
He could not. No matter how much that guest might deserve it for putting his filthy fucking hands on a woman in his restaurant. No matter how much Jack wanted to rip this guyâs head off for daring to touch someone as sweet-looking as you.
He could not kill a guest. He could not kill a guest.
Those words were a refrain playing in his head as he made his way to your table, the one with the situation Nazely had told him aboutâa situation that had clearly escalated to physical. Because your date had put his hand on you and all Jack could think about was murder.
He hated the way this pompous asshole was holding your wrist tight enough that it looked painful, though your face was a stony mask like you refused to give the guy the satisfaction of showing him heâd hurt you. And Jack especially hated the fact that heâd stupidly left his knife in the kitchen, so he couldnât cut off the guestâs hand for the crime of touching you with so much violence.
Jack was nearly at the table when he heard your date talking, and he immediately recognized the smarmy voice of Night Shiftâs #1 worst regular: Curtis Larsen.
In that moment, Jack knew he shouldâve banned the guy after the last time he came in, when heâd terrorized the staff and tipped basically nothing for their efforts. Well, that was a mistake Jack was going to rectify immediately, once he got you away from the shithead.
So focused on his thoughts, and trying to quell his inclination toward murder, Jack didnât fully register what Curtis was saying until he was right next to the table.
ââDidnât take you for such a cheap whoreââ
Any possibility of Jack politely interrupting Curtis went out the window when he heard those words. What came out of him instead was: âSir, you need to shut your fucking mouth.â
Jack was louder than heâd meant to be, making you gasp softly. His gaze found you, wanting to make sure he hadnât scared you, and he ended up getting lost in your eyes. They were bright and smart, and watching him with such a keen interest, it made Jack feel 20 years younger.
It was then that Jack really looked at you, and he realized just how young you were. Not young enough to make him feel like a complete creep, but⊠young enough to make him feel at least a little bit like a creep.
Especially when he raked his eyes down your bodyâtelling himself he was just checking to make sure you were okayâand he couldnât help but notice the way your dress clung to your curves, taunting him with how high the hem rode up your thigh. Your bare legs were a tease beneath the tablecloth, and Jack wondered if your skin felt as soft as it lookedâŠ
Reminding himself that you needed help, not to be ogled by a creepy older man, Jack shook himself free of the spell youâd cast on him with your wide, trusting eyes and your pretty, tempting curves. He turned to Curtis, giving the man his most fearsome glower, the one that kept the most unruly of restaurant guests in line.
âAnd keep your fucking hands to yourself,â Jack growled, making a point of looking down at where Curtisâs hand was still holding your wrist before returning his gaze to the manâs face. âOr do I need to teach you a lesson about putting your hands on woman without her consent?â
Jack knew he sounded dangerousâunhinged, probablyâbut he couldnât bring himself to care, not when his thinly veiled threat did the trick and Curtis let go of you like he was dropping a hot pan.
Something settled in Jackâs chest, and he felt soothed knowing he hadnât even needed to resort to violence to save you from Curtis. But that feeling quickly shriveled as Jack watched you bring your hand to our chest and cradle your wrist.
He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to wrap you up in his arms and tell you no one would ever hurt you again. Not on his watch. But somehow, Jack managed to keep his hands tucked behind his back, even as the tips of his fingers prickled with the desire to touch you, to soothe you.
Those thoughts and urges were troubling enough, but then you lifted your eyes and gave Curtis a withering look that had the other man cowering almost as much as he had under Jackâs glare. The chef felt a threat of pride weave through his heart.
Jack could see your strength, your resilience, and he knew in that moment that you could take care of yourself. You couldâve freed yourself from Curtisâs hold, you hadnât needed saving, but that only made Jack want to whisk you away all the more. He wanted to take care of you in a way heâd never felt before.
Biting back a sigh at himself, Jack realized one very important thing: He was a goner for you. Already. Even though he didnât even know your name.
Unable and unwilling to stop himself from acting selfishly, Jack held a hand out to you, giving you a soft, encouraging smile and nodding toward your hurt wrist.
âMy nameâs Jack, I own this restaurant. Can I take a look, sweetheart?â he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it, a low, raspy rumble that he hoped felt like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. âI used to be a medic in the army.â
It made Jackâs heart soar when you looked at him for a moment, like you were taking his measure, and decided you could trust him. Your fingers were soft and a little cold as they slipped into Jackâs plam, his own hand closing reflexively around them to warm you up.
Carefully, Jack turned your wrist one way, then the other, bending low over your hand to examine whether it was injured. All the while, he kept an eye on your face, watching for any wince or twinge in your expression to indicate he was hurting you.
Thankfullyâfor you, for Jack, and most especially for your dateâit didnât look like Curtis had done any real damage.
âNo sprain, just some bruising,â Jack said, giving your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze and lifting his gaze to yours. He nearly lost himself in the admiration and gratefulness in your eyes, but managed to continue. âI have some ibuprofen in my office.â
Your eyes widened a little in surprise, and Jack was forced to endure the torment of watching you nibble on your lower lip while uncertainty filled your expression. He understood your reticence to trust a man so soon after another had hurt you, so Jack tried to put you at ease.
âWhaddya say, sweetheart, do you want the kitchen tour?â
Jack shot you a cheesy, hopefully charming wink, and when you let out a soft giggle, shaking your head at him like you couldnât believe how corny he was, he felt like he was flying. He felt like he could soar above all of Pittsburgh with only the confidence he earned from making you laugh.
âThat would be nice,â you said, looking up at him from under your lashes. Jack was immediately entranced by your voice, by the way your lips moved as you spoke. âThank you, chef.â
It did absurdly wild things to Jackâs heart, which was already beating a fast, staccato rhythm in his chest, to hear you call him âchefâ. It shouldnât have affected him so much, it was a title he heard about a hundred times a night from dozens of other people.
But hearing it from your pretty mouth made Jack feel like it was a badge of honor, and he was glad to have earned it.
Distracted by thinking of ways to get you to call him âchefâ some more, it wasnât until you clutched his fingers more tightly that he remembered heâd intended to get you away from Curtis as quickly as possible. Using it as an excuse to keep holding your hand, Jack helped you to stand up.
When he was sure you were steady on your feet, after wobbling for a moment in your heels, Jack nodded to your chair and said, âGrab your things, angel. You wonât be coming back.â
Even though Jack was leaning into you when he said it, Curtis mustâve caught the words because his expression turned from icy resignation to red-hot fury as he pushed himself to stand. But Jack was quicker, putting himself between you and your former date, growling at the younger man before he could fully stand up.
âSit down, sir.â
A stunned Curtis plopped back into his chair. Jack raised his chin, staring down his nose at the other man while he tucked his hands behind his back, standing guard between you and your former date. Images of knives began dancing in Jackâs head, and he let it fuel the anger in his expression to keep Curtis in check.
Jack could sense you moving around behind him. Youâd dropped his hand when youâd turned to grab your jacket and purse, but you mustâve been done because you slipped your fingers back into his palm.
You grasped his hand tentatively, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, his heart soaring in his chest even as he continued glaring at the man at the table, who looked riotous at the thought of Jack stealing you away.
âYou canât do this,â Curtis snarled, trying to puff up his chest and make himself look big, even as he remained sitting in his seat, too much a coward to actually challenge Jackâs authority.
The chef responded to the other manâs posturing by looming over him, an unkind smile on his face. Jack was more than a little satisfied by the way Curtis cowered, just a little, in his seat.
âThis is my fucking restaurant,â Jack said, his voice even but ruthless. âSo let me tell you how this is going to go.â Jack kept your hand tucked in his, holding you behind him while he dealt with your ex-date. âYouâre going to pay your bill, leave your server a generous tip, and then youâre never going to step foot in here again. Do you get me?â
Jack watched emotions flit across the younger manâs faceâsurprise, frustration, indignation, furyâand he could practically feel the temper tantrum brewing, like a storm rolling in. But he could also smell the booze on him and, if Jack wasnât mistaken, he could see the telltale signs Curtis had been indulging in more than wine.
Night Shift really didnât need the scene or the paperwork that would come along with the temper tantrum, which would inevitably lead to someone calling the cops. So Jack went in for the metaphorical kill.
âIf I ever see your face in here again,â Jack said, lowering his voice even more so only you and Curtis could hear him. âYouâre going to pay for putting your hands on a woman in my restaurantâand Iâll take that payment with my knife.â
Jack watched as Curtis blanched, his tanned skin going ghostly pale as all the fight drained out of him at the threat of actual violence. The younger manâs gaze finally fell to the table, and Jack knew he wasnât going to challenge him again.
It was completely unhinged to threaten Curtis like that, he knew that, but all Jack worried about was that heâd scared you. When he turned to check on you, though, he found you staring at him with so much admiration, Jack wanted to puff up his own chest and take on every asshole whoâd ever wronged you.
You took a careful step closer to Jack, looking at him with those wide eyes, a smirk flirting around the edges of your pretty mouth, and wrapped your other hand around his bicep. âThank you,â you murmured for only him to hear, and Jack offered you an answering smile.
âReady to go, sweetheart?â he asked charmingly, squeezing your hand gently.
Your smirk bloomed into a full-blown grin, and he caught the edge of excitement in your expression, making Jackâs heart thump harder in his chest. He could hardly believe someone as young and beautiful and strong as you wanted to go anywhere with him. Not only did you look like you wanted it, you looked eager for it.
âYes, please, chef,â you purred, the sound of your voice calling him âchefâ again going straight to his dick.
Oh yeah, Jack was definitely a goner for you.
You could hardly believe how drastically the course of your night had changed in just a few minutes.
Youâd gone from being on the absolute worst date of your life, trying to figure out how you were going to get away from the man whoâd accosted you, to being on the arm of one of the most talentedâand handsomeâhead chefs in all of Pittsburgh.
Jack Abbotâs hand was warm and strong in yours, his stride steady and determined as he led you through the dining room toward the kitchen. His presence at your side helped to settle the wobbliness you felt in the wake of the fear and adrenaline that had rushed through you when Curtis had grabbed you.
Leaning further into Jackâs side, you got a hint of his scentâfresh laundry something earthy, like sage or rosemaryâand you let it stoke the little ember of interest that burned deep your core, the one that had flared to life when you watched the chef put your date in his place.
What did it say about you that you thought it was inexplicably hot the way Jack had threatened Curtis with his knife? What did it say about you that you felt safer with Jack than you had with any man youâd ever gone out with?
With those questions rattling around in your head, you were glad that Jack didnât try to make conversation beyond asking for your name as he guided you to the kitchen. He seemed to understand you needed a moment to process everything thatâd happened, and he remained quiet as the two of you walked together through the crowded dining room, the soft chatter of the other diners filling the silence so it wasnât awkward.
When Jack pushed through the double swinging doors to the kitchen, the gentle murmur of the restaurantâs dining room gave away to the chaos of the kitchen. Immediately, you felt the buzzy, almost electric energy, of the staff, and you took your first full breath since youâd walked into Night Shift, something about the kitchen making you feel like you were coming home.
Your eyes were opened wide as you looked around because there was so much to take inâa whole army of chefs and cooks moved around the silver metal tables and big, gas range stoves, grabbing things out of fridges, chopping vegetables and searing meat. It was like a masterfully choreographed dance, the way everyone moved around each other.
And it smelled divine. Herbs and spices and so many other scents filled your nose, making your mouth water and your stomach grumble, though there was no way anyone could hear it over the noiseâthe clatter of knives and pans, the people calling out orders, the slamming of fridge doors.
Everything seemed to revolve around on particular chef, an Asian man spooning some sauce onto a plate and conferring with a Black woman. He was the calm in the center of the storm, obviously running things while Jack had been dealing with your date.
The head chef himself tugged you to the side of the room, pulling you out of the way of the steady stream of servers coming in and out of the double doors, carrying big trays filled with all kinds of dishesâsalads and seafood, pasta and chicken. All of it smelled amazing, looked amazing, and it was all you could do to stare around the kitchen with awe no doubt written plainly on your face.
Gradually, you became aware of Jackâs gaze on your face, and when you looked at the chef, you found him watching you closely, so much intensity in his hazel eyes, it made you feel a little shy. Here was this older, accomplished chef, and he was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in his entire kitchenâhis entire restaurant.
You offered him a tentative smile, your heart skipping a beat when he towed you just a little closer by your still clasped hands.
âWhat do you think, sweetheart?â Jack asked, and you could tell by the tenor of his voice that he actually cared about your answer. He sounded worried, hopeful, and so achingly interested that it made you unsteady on your feet.
âI think itâs amazing,â you answered honestly, your voice more than a little breathless with wonder. You leaned further into his side, staring into his eyes and getting a little lost in them. âEverything looks and smells delicious, chef.â
A small, pleased smile curved Jackâs mouth, even as his eyes darkened at what youâd called him. It stole the breath from your lungs, the knowledge that you could affect him so clearly just by calling him âchefâ. It made you want to say it more, to say it while his mouth was on your body, just to see if you could drive him wildâŠ
Tension crackled between the two of you, sharp and electric, sucking all the oxygen out of the room so it became a little hard to breathe normally. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your legs trembled, and still, you couldnât tear your eyes away from Jack, your gaze drifting down to his mouth and the silvery stubble that surrounded it.
âJack?â you murmured his name softly, a question in the single syllable, as you raised your eyes back to his. There was an answer in his gaze, in the way his own eyes dropped to your lips and back up, like he was fighting the same urge as you.
âEverything good, chef?â
You and Jack jumped apart, your hands disentangling as you put a respectable amount of space between your bodies. You watched Jack straighten, his expression shifting into something much more professional, much more appropriate for his workplace, as he turned to the room.
âGimme a few more minutes, chef,â Jack called back to the Asian man whoâd addressed him. You got the sense that the man was amused by the two of you, even though his face remained unreadable. âIâll be back to dig you out of the hole of the dinner rush.â
The man who mustâve been Jackâs sous chef huffed a laugh and, without looking up from the dish he was plating, said, âDonât worry about us, old man. Weâve got this.â
âWhoâs he calling old?â Jack muttered under his breath, making a laugh burst from your lips at how disgruntled he sounded. A smirk flickered at the edge of Jackâs mouth, like he couldnât help himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement, and he leaned closer to you. âDo you think Iâm old, angel?â
Jackâs voice was little more than a rasp, and you swore that you could feel it skim down your spine and settle deep in your core, where heat was blooming hotter. All you could do was stare at Jack, at the weathered lines of his freckled face, and the silver curls that you wanted to run your fingers through, as you tried to think of something to say.
A little lop-sided smile tilted Jackâs mouth, like he could somehow see the odd mixture of awe and lust swirling in your body, in your brain, making you tongue-tiedâand he didnât hold it against you. âDonât answer that,â he grumbled good-naturedly, his eyes still fixed on your face.
The two of you hung suspended in that moment for longer than was strictly necessary, the hustle and bustle of the kitchen fading away, until you finally remembered how to speak. Though once the words came out of your mouth, you wished youâd stayed silent.
âI donât think youâre too old.â
That statement got Jackâs attention in a way you hadnât experienced in all the short time youâd been in his presence. His eyes darkened, dropping to your lips once again before dragging their way back to meet your gaze. A charming grin made his mouth look far too tempting.
âToo old for what, angel?â Jack asked innocently, a hint of playful teasing in his tone that had your body burning hotter. His dark hazel eyes were knowingâlike he knew what you really meant to say, that you didnât think he was too old for you.
But you couldnât say that, couldnât answer him. You already felt like youâd said too much, and there were too many emotions still swirling around in your chest, in your belly, between your thighs, to make sense of any of them.
Thankfully, Jack seemed to understand you were overwhelmed and he didnât push it. Instead, he pressed a hand to your lower back, the heat of his palm scorching through the thin fabric of your dress, even in the warmth of the kitchen. He guided you gently to a narrow doorway tucked into the corner of the kitchen you hadnât noticed before.
Jack led you into a small office that you knew immediately was his. The space was nice and neat, just like his kitchen, with homey touches that reflected the dining room of his restaurant with emerald green walls and a dark wooden desk, which held a few framed photos and other keepsakes alongside his paperwork and computer.
Also, it smelled like himâfresh and clean, with just a hint of garlic and sage.
The room was small, barely big enough for a desk, chair and a couple of filing cabinets, but it was cozy, and you felt just as safe in Jackâs office as you did in his presence. Being away from the loud clamor of the kitchen also helped to settle your nerves and, without being invited to, you sank into the chair, leaving Jack to lean against the edge of his desk.
âHowâre you holding up, sweetheart?â Jack asked gently, crossing his arms over his chest and ducking down to catch your eye. You gave him a weary smile.
âIâm ok,â you said, then paused to take stock of yourself to see if that was really true. âA little shaken, a lot hungry,â your smile tured rueful. âI was really looking forward to trying your food,â you told him, dropping your gaze to where your hands were twisted together in your lap. âBut we didnât even make it to the appetizers.â
Jack shifted closer to you, his knee nudging lightly against yours, and you felt a little zing of happiness at even that small touch. You almost huffed a laugh at yourself for the silly crush you were developing on the hot, older chef, but managed to bite it back and looked up at the man whoâd so gently gotten your attention.
âIf you want to go home, I can have security escort you out back,â Jack started, his mouth twisting into the vague impression of a frown, like he didnât particularly like that idea. âOr, if you want, you can hang out in here, I can make you something to eat, and then later, I can give you that kitchen tour.â
He shot you another one of those exaggerated winks and you couldnât help but giggle softly. Jack was charming and he knew it, and if you werenât careful, you were definitely going to develop a big olâ crush on the man. He made it too easy to feel comfortable around him.
âItâs your choice, sweetheart,â Jack said, pausing for a moment like he wasnât sure if he should go on, but then he did. âI do hope youâll let me cook for you, though.â He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against the edge of your jaw, his touch so light you could barely feel it. âI donât like the idea of sending you home hungry.â
Before you could lean into Jackâs hand, he snatched it back, like he was worried heâd crossed a line. He crossed his arms more tightly across his chest, his hands tucked away as if he was worried they couldnât be trusted not to touch you again, and you had to smile.
Maybe it wasnât the worst idea in the world to develop a crush on the hot, older chef whoâd saved you from the worst date of your lifeâespecially since it seemed like the hot, older chef was having trouble keeping his gentle hands off you.
âIâd like to stay,â you murmured, looking up at Jack from under your lashes.
Almost against your will, your body swayed closer to the charming chef, your hand reaching out to wrap around his forearm. The light dusting of Jackâs hair tickled your fingers, and you couldnât help but notice how strong and firm his arm was beneath your palm.
Your lips quirked into a small smile, putting a little flirty edge on your words as you said, âIf you donât mind, chef.â
Jackâs eyes were dark, liquid heat as he stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered wildly if he might kiss you. The thought had excitement fluttering to life in your belly, but before you could get your hopes up too high, Jack swallowed and looked away. It was only then that you noticed the faint flush pinkening his cheeks.
âMake yourself comfortable, sweetheart,â Jack said, pushing away from the desk and stepping toward the door. âIbuprofenâs in the top drawer.â
The movement had your hand dropping from his arm and you immediately missed the warmth of his skin. When he looked back at you, he mustâve caught something on your face, something that had him cracking a small smile.
âIâll be back soon, alright?â His voice was a little rough, teasing your body with its low tenor, but you managed a smile and a nod.
âIâll be here,â you said, as brightly as you could. âThank you, Jack.â
Jack looked at you another moment, his eyes going a little soft, before he ducked through the office door. He pulled it most of the way closed behind him, leaving it open just a crack, somehow knowing you wanted some peace, but not to be cut off from the kitchenâfrom himâentirely.
Left alone to your own devices, you only had your own thoughts as company. You knew your brain wanted to spiral about your dateâWhy hadnât you seen the red flags from Curtis earlier? Why hadnât you cut the date short sooner?âbut instead you focused on what was in front of you.
Tossing your purse and jacket onto the desk, you got comfortable in Jackâs chair, leaning back and noticing a leather jacket thrown over the back. Shooting a quick glance at the door to make sure no one could see in, you tucked your face into the collar and breathed in, a smile curving your lips as you inhaled Jackâs clean, earthy scent.
Once youâd had your fillâor, rather, once your shame caught up with you and you forced yourself to stop sniffing the hot, older chefâs jacket like a mindless hussyâyou let your eyes roam around the room, taking in the almost military precision of the organization in the office.
The desk was mostly clear, save for the keyboard attached to his computer monitor, and a stack of order forms for things for the restaurant. There were also the photos and keepsakes. You picked them up one by one, looking closely at the people and things Jack cared about, not bothering to feel bad about your nosiness.
The first photo was of Jack and his whole kitchen crew at the opening of Night Shift, looking worn out but exultant in their success. Another photo depicted Jack with a man about his age, tall with brown hair and a salt and pepper beard, standing next to a motorcycle. They had their arms slung around each other like they were old friends.
Next, your fingers trailed over a medal of honor that was tucked into a corner of the desk. It was purple and gold, in the shape of a heart with a manâs side profile in the center. You remembered Jackâs comment about being in the army and wondered what had earned him the medal.
Feeling like youâd possibly overstepped, you set the medal back in its place on Jackâs desk and focused on finding the ibuprofen. After taking the pills with the glass of water heâd grabbed for you from the kitchen, you snuggled deeper into his chair, your head falling back against the collar of the chefâs leather jacket.
It occurred to you suddenly that you really liked Jack Abbot. You hadnât known him for long, and you didnât know all that much about him, but you wanted to.
You wanted to know why heâd named his restaurant Night Shift, and why heâd become a chef after being a medic in the army. You wanted to know what his favorite thing to cook was, and whether he needed readers to read texts on his phone.
You wanted to know if he was going to ask you for your number.
That thought made you stop and smile as you considered what youâd do if Jack asked for you number and actually used it. Your fingers played idly with the soft, supple leather of his jacket, letting the sounds of the kitchen lull you into deeper comfort as you imagined what it would be like to date world-renowned chef Jack Abbot.
You suspected it would be a helluva lot better than going on a date with Curtis Larsen, that was for sure.
Jack Abbot could not be interested in the young, pretty restaurant guest heâd saved from a bad date.
He paused just outside the door to his office, trying to get his head on straight, but all he could think about was the way youâd looked at him, like you were attracted to him, like you trusted him to take care of you. His fingers flexed at his side, and he could still feel the softness of your skin beneath his grazing touchâso pretty, so tempting.
His mind was consumed with the sweetness of your scent filling his office, invading his private space, and how much that pleased him. Jack already knew that scent would haunt him for the rest of the evening, that heâd fall asleep just to dream of you.
Wiping a hand down his face, Jack felt like a creep for even thinking about how you smelled, how your hand felt like a perfect fit in his own, how he wanted you to look at him with nothing but lust in your eyes. He was supposed to be helping you, taking care of you, making sure you got home safe, not thinking about what itâd feel like to put his hands on your body and pull you closeâŠ
With a hard shake of his head, Jack refocused on the task at handâmaking you something to eatâand strode back into the kitchen. He walked up to stand beside his sous chef, who was busy plating a whole tray of that nightâs special. John didnât even look up as Jack approached.
âHow are things looking?â Jack asked, busying his hands by retying the strings of his apron while he took a look at the line of orders still needing to be made. It was a busy Friday night at Night Shift, but his sous chef was keeping on top of things.
âDonât worry about us, chef, we got this,â John said, before raising his voice and calling out to the rest of the kitchen staff. âDonât we, nightcrawlers?â
âHoo-rah!â came the answering reply and Jack had to twist his lips to the side to hide the proud smile that wanted to break through. Annoyingly, John noticed.
âSeriously,â John said, straightening up and setting the last of the plates onto a tray for a server to take them out into the dining room. He turned to Jack. âIâve got this under control, if thereâs somewhere else youâd rather be.â
Johnâs eyes drifted over Jackâs shoulder in the direction of the office before returning his gaze to the head chef and waggling his brows a little.
âI wonât take it personally if thereâs someone else youâd rather be with than me,â the sous chef quipped, grabbing his Dunkinâ Donuts iced coffee from the shelf over the worktable and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.
âItâs not like that,â Jack grumbled, hoping to nip that thread of conversation in the bud before it began. The last thing he needed was for his business with you to get around the kitchen. Everyone who worked at Night Shift were talented, good people, but they gossiped more than little old ladies.
Jack tugged on some black nitrile gloves and grabbed a knife and cutting board. But when he returned to his station with the ingredients heâd need for what he planned to cook you for dinner, John was giving him a skeptical look.
âRight,â John said, not dropping the subject, no matter that Jack was no longer looking at him and was instead focused entirely on chopping up some rosemary and garlic. âThatâs why you stepped in and took care of her date instead of letting security handle it.â
Johnâs tone was dry enough to give the Sahara a run for its money, but Jack refused to rise to the bait. Huffing an exaggeratedly beleaguered sigh, John cut to the chase. âDo you know her or something?â
âNo,â Jack said quicklyâtoo quickly, he knew. He could feel Johnâs indefatigable gaze drilling into the side of his head while he worked. He knew John wouldnât give up the interrogation until he got something so Jack finally admitted, âBut⊠maybe I want to get to know her.â
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a wide grin spread across his sous chefâs face a moment before John clapped him on the shoulder. âThatâs great, chef,â he said, but he mustâve noticed Jack wasnât grinning along with him because he asked, âIt is great, isnât it? I mean, itâs been a while for you, hasnât it?â
âSheâs too young for me, man,â Jack said, his voice harsher than heâd intended. He paused, swallowing, then grabbed a pan and some chicken cutlets, getting to work breading and seasoning them. âBesides, sheâs had a rough nightâthat jackass grabbed her.â Jack had to stop again and take a breath to contain his anger before he went on. âShe doesnât need some old man creeping on her, too.â
âDude,â John started, before getting distracted by plating up a new round of orders. It took him a moment to get back to the conversation. âYouâre not that old,â he said, shooting Jack a look like the head chef should know all his âold manâ comments were in good fun. âAnd if you think sheâs not interested, you didnât see the way she was looking at you.â
At Johnâs comment, Jack fumbled the pan he was cooking in, nearly spilling oil and chicken into the fire of the stove. He glanced at John, back to what he was doing, then to his sous chef again, who was watching him with a not-so-small smirk on his face.
âH-how was she looking at me?â Jack finally asked, unable to stop himself, not even daring to hope John wasnât somehow fucking with him.
Sure, Jack knew youâd wrapped yourself around his arm while heâd walked you back to the kitchen, and he couldnât get the memory of the way youâd touched his arm out of your head. But that wasnât flirting⊠was it? And certainly there wasnât anything particularly interested in the way youâd looked at him. Right?
Johnâs incredulous look told him otherwise. âJack, the girl practically had hearts in her eyes when she looked at you,â he said, and when Jack opened his mouth to protest, he cut him off. âSheâs into you, dude.â
âWhat, noâno, no, sheâs justâŠâ Jack couldnât believe how idiotic he sounded, fumbling around his own kitchen while John tried to tell him you were interested. It was like he was a young, inexperienced teenager all over again with his first crush, disbelieving she could ever like him back.
âEllis, back me up,â John was saying, calling over one of Night Shiftâs senior chefs while he set a new round of plated meals onto a tray for a server. âThe girl Jack brought back here had heart eyes for our head chef, didnât she?â
It was only his decades of experience that allowed Jack to continue cookingâboiling water and adding pasta, mixing milk and cheese in with the chicken to create a creamy sauceâwhile he waited with bated breath for Parker Ellisâs response. Jack trusted the senior chef not to bullshit him or fuck with him the way John sometimes did.
âOh yeah, full-on heart eyes,â Parker announced, stopping beside John for a moment to drop off some more plates in need of their finishing touches. She glanced at Jack, who was still trying to process her pronouncement. âYou gonna do something about it, chef?â
Was Jack going to do something about it? Everything in him ached to do somethingâto touch you, to kiss you, or, at the very least, ask for your number and take you out for a real meal sometime. He wanted to get to know you, he wanted to impress you with the most romantic of dates, and then he wanted to take you home and take care of you in every way he knew how.
It had been a long time since Jack had wanted any of those things with anyone, and it was a shock to his system to feel them for someone so soon after meeting them. But Jack could tell you were special. There was a spark between the two of you that he knew heâd be a fool to ignore.
However, he was still wary about scaring you off or creeping you out. But maybe he wouldnât if Jack could take things slow. He could feed you, make sure you were comfortable in his office, and then later, heâd give you a tour of his kitchen and see how things went from there. If you seemed into it, he could ask for your number and take you out on a real date.
Happy with his plan, Jack finally looked up from where he was finishing the meal heâd made for you. He found both John and Parker looking at him expectantlyâand a little impatiently. He twisted his mouth to the side to bite back a smirk.
âDonât you two have something better to do than discuss my love life?â he grumbled good-naturedly, knowing neither of them would take him too seriously.
True to form, Parker snickered and gave Jack a mock salute. âHappy for you, chef,â she said before heading back into the crowded kitchen.
Meanwhile, John was grinning to himself. âGet your girl, old man,â he quipped, giving Jack a sly look out of the corner of his eye.
Jack made a show of grumbling about his impertinent staff while he plated up the dish heâd made for youâchicken and pasta with a creamy, cheesy sauce flavored with plenty of rosemary and other herbs. Then, it was time to bring it to you, and even Jack was a little surprised by how eager he was to get back to you, striding across the kitchen as quick as he could.
Knocking lightly before pushing inside his office, Jack found you curled up in his desk chair, your legs tucked underneath you, an e-reader in your hands. For a moment, Jack was struck by the easy domesticity of the sceneâhim bringing you dinner while you looked sexy and cozy in his office.
It would be all too easy for Jack to get used to this, having you visit him at his restaurant and waiting in his office for him to finish up for the night so he could take you out for a late-night drink, or some ice cream. And then, heâd take you home and get you underneath him so he could have a late-night snack of his ownâŠ
âOh hi, is that for me?â
Your question dragged Jack from his reverie, and he couldnât help but smile when he saw your wide eyes looking up at him. He stepped forward to set down the dish and silverware heâd brought on the desk in front of you, your sweet scent tickling his nose before he stood back to give you some roomâand so that he could watch your reaction.
You tucked your e-reader back into your purse, and Jack knew the exact moment you smelled the food in front of you because you went still and your eyes slid closed. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and when you exhaled, it was with a low, throaty moan that went straight to Jackâs dick.
For the first time since heâd hit middle age, Jack was actually glad he wasnât as quick to harden as when he was younger. Still, he had to curl his hands into fists at his sides and tamp down on the instinct to adjust his cock, which was twitching to life, not wanting to bring any attention to how your innocent reaction was affecting him.
Instead, he focused all his willpower on keeping himself from getting harder, which became more difficult when you blinked your eyes open, looking almost dazed with hunger and pleasure. It was all Jack could do to hold himself back from touching you, from tracing the shape of your mouth with his fingers, from kissing you so that the desire in your eyes was all for him and not his food.
âIt smells delicious, chef,â you purred, your voice low and husky in a way that Jack could tell wasnât intentional, which made it affect him all the more.
âGive it a try, sweetheart,â Jack said, unable to keep the gravel out of his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to stop himself from reaching for you. He wanted to grab you by your hips, put you in his lap, and feed you. But he reminded himself he was taking things slow, so he leaned against the desk and watched you intently. âI want to know if you like it.â
Bobbing your head in a nod, you grabbed your fork, scooped up some of the pasta and speared a piece of chicken, popping the whole bite into your mouth. Some cream sauce lingered in the corners of your lips, and Jack had to clench his fists to stop from swiping it away with his thumb. He was nearly undone, biting back a groan, when your tongue peaked out and licked it up with a garbled moan.
âOh my god, thatâs the best thing Iâve ever tasted,â you proclaimed. The pleasure in your voice made Jack harder, but he focused instead on the pride blooming, warm and sweet, in his chest.
Still, he couldnât completely ignore his cock twitching to life in his jeans. For once, he was grateful for the apron covering his front, helping to shield the bulge growing between his thighs. God, he felt like a fucking teenager.
âAh, th-thanks,â he said, stumbling over his words, flustered by just how much you visiblyâand verballyâenjoyed his food. âItâs a personal recipe, not on the menu.â He shot you a wink, hoping desperately that it came across as charming, and not unbearably cheesy. âI figured you could use some comfort food.â
The somber note in Jackâs voice seemed to strike you right in the heart, and you blinked, your eyes dropping from his for a moment. Jack wondered if heâd made a mistake by referencing your bad date, but then your hand darted out, playing idly with the edge of his apron just below where his arms were crossed.
âI canât thank you enough for getting me out of that situation, Jack,â you said softly, and the chef was so distracted by the sound of his name on your tongue that he almost missed what you were saying. But then you looked up and your gaze was arresting. âI thought I could handle itâcould handle himâbut I donât know what I wouldâve done if you hadnât been thereâŠâ
Jack hated how small you sounded, how unsure of yourself.
Before he knew what he was doing, Jack was sweeping down onto one knee, barely biting back a wince when his prosthetic protested, and settling his hands gently on the outside of your thighs. He tried to ignore the heat of your bare skin against his palms, forcing himself to focus on you and making sure you saw yourself the way he saw you.
âYou wouldâve been fine, sweetheart,â Jack said in his firmest tone, even as he made sure to keep his voice gentle. He could tell from the uncertainty in your eyes that you were hanging on his every word, and he felt compelled to go on. âYou can take care of yourself, and if youâd needed to, you wouldâve handled that asshole.â
Something like pride and confidence swirled in your eyes, and Jack let his mouth twist to the side in a smile. It made him feel good to know he could put that look in your eye, and he felt his chest puffing up a little bit before he got control of himself and gave your thighs a reassuring squeeze before continuing.
âI am glad I could help, though,â Jack said, his voice rougher than it had any right to be. But he was kneeling so close to you that he breathed in your sweet scent with every inhale, and it was going straight to his head. âThank you for letting me feed youâthank you for letting me take care of you.â
Your eyes were wide and bright and fixed so intensely on Jackâs that he barely felt it when your hands settled gently on his shoulders, holding on to him like he was the one steady thing you could count on. His grip on your thighs tightened, drawing you closer until your knees collided with his chest.
âAnytime, chef,â you murmured, your lips parted and glistening and looking so fucking tempting.
A little growl rumbled in Jackâs chest and he watched your eyes flare with interest, before settling back into a heavy-lidded stare. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, curling into the cotton of his white t-shirt, and he could feel you lightly tugging on him, trying to bring him closer.
Fuck, Jack wasnât just interested in you, he craved you. It didnât matter that heâd known you for such a short time, he wanted to devour you. He wanted to take you into his arms and kiss the breath from your lungs, make you come apart and then hold you tight until you put each other together again.
He wanted to go back to work knowing you were safe and sound in his office, eating the food heâd cooked for you, then give you a tour of the kitchen later. When that was done, he wanted to drive you home, make sure you got in safe, and make plans to see you again. He wanted to take up as much space in your head as you were taking up in his.
Jack wanted to kiss you. And, if he wasnât mistaken, you looked like you wanted him to kiss you, too.
A great crashing sound came from the kitchen, shattering the perfect moment, and Jackâs stomach sank when you flinched. You tried to hide your reaction, staring at him innocently like you hadnât recoiled at the loud sound, but he was reminded that he should be taking things slowly, carefully, making sure you werenât overwhelmed by all that had happened throughout the night.
âEat up, angel,â he rumbled, giving your thighs one last squeeze before moving to stand, pushing himself up with one hand on his desk. He gritted his teeth through the pain in his limb as he settled back onto his prosthetic, and gave you another of his hopefully charming winks. âIf youâre a good girl, Iâll make you some dessert to go with your kitchen tour.â
At that comment, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sultry smile spreading slowly across your face. When you looked up at Jack, your eyes were a little hazy, and your body swayed closer to him, almost like you couldnât help yourself.
âOh, Iâll be good,â you murmured, looking more sexy than you had any right to curled up in Jackâs desk chair. âI promise, chef.â
There it was again, that title rolling off your tongue and licking straight down Jackâs spine. He had half a mind to gather you up in his arms and kiss you until you were murmuring that word into his mouth, his neck, into the center of his chest while he pressed between your thighs and slid inside youâŠ
âIâll be back when it slows down,â Jack promised, wrenching himself away from his fantasy and backing toward the door of the office. If he didnât know better, he thought you mightâve been smirking as you hummed your acknowledgement. âEnjoy your dinner, sweetheart.â
âThank you, chef,â you chirped sweetly, turning back to your mealâthough not before catching Jackâs eye over your shoulder, a flirty spark in your gaze.
A goofy grin spread across Jackâs face, and for a moment, he let himself watch you as you pulled out your e-reader and began to read while you ate the meal heâd prepared. His chest filled with warm sunlight while something in his gut settled. It felt right to have you here in Jackâs office, in his space, looking safe and comfortable and content.
Holding that sense of rightness close to his heart, Jack ducked back into the kitchen, taking a moment to retie his apron before jumping into the fray. He felt steadier than he had before heâd brought you some dinner, and while Jack knew part of that was because he knew you were fed, it was also because heâd accepted itâhe was interested in you and he was going to pursue you.
Jack was done feeling guilty or creepy for wanting to spend time with you, even if you were one of his restaurant guests that heâd had to save from an atrociously bad date. Jack believed what heâd told you, that you could take care of yourself, and if you wanted to spend time with him, too, then Jack wasnât going to feel bad about it.
So he took his place beside his sous chef and got to work on the endless stream of orders coming into Night Shiftâs kitchen. He let himself fall into the rhythm of the work, plating up and putting the finishing touches on all kinds of dishes before they were whisked away into the dining room. He worked with a methodical determination, knowing that the sooner he cleared out all the orders, the sooner he could check back in on you.
When things finally slowed down, Jack heaved a sigh of relief. It was a strange feeling, knowing he had someone in his office that he eagerly wanted to get back to, and it wasnât until he caught John giving him an annoying looked that he realized he was smiling.
Jack tugged off his black nitrile gloves, tossed them in the trash, and flipped off John while he made his way back to his office. Jackâs heart squeezed at the sight that greeted him.
He found you snuggled up in his chair, his leather jacket tucked around you like a blanket, your head lolled to the side as you slept soundly. Jack marveled at the beauty of your faceâthe soft slope of your nose, the pretty curve of your mouth, the delicate fan of your lashes against your cheeks.
Somewhere deep in his chest, Jackâs heart knocked against his ribs like it was trying to get his attention, and he knew exactly what it wanted to sayâyou could be his. If you let him, and if you wanted him, too, Jack could fall for you. That night could be the start of something new, something spectacular.
Thinking about how he could very much get used to seeing you in his chair, in his office, Jack tucked his leather jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, holding his breath when your cheek nuzzled against the back of his hand. His heart thumped happily when you smiled softly in your sleep and it took every bit of his strength to pull away.
As quietly as he could, Jack cleared the empty plate and silverware from his desk, taking care not to disturb you. He carried it to the door, where he paused to look at you again, watching you sleep for just a moment longer.
It struck Jack then, like a lightning bolt, that he wasnât just interested in you or attracted to you. He was completely gone for you. He was yours, and he could only hope that youâd want to be his.
Even before you were fully awake, you knew you were safe.
Warmth, and the scent of leather and herbs, surrounded you, easing you back into reality from dreams about a hot, silver-haired chef and big, capable hands on your body. Desire curled lazily, low in your belly, and you snuggled deeper into the leather jacket wrapped around your shoulders, wishing for more time of with your dream chef.
But before you could slip back into sleep, it struck you suddenly how quiet it was in your little cocoon. Youâd fallen asleep to the chaos and clatter of the kitchen at Night Shift, but the noise had dwindled down to a dull murmur. It hit you that you mustâve slept longer than youâd intended.
Youâd only meant to close your eyes for a few minutes. Youâd been so full from eating the comfort meal Jack Abbot had cooked for you, and youâd felt so warm and cozy once youâd tugged his jacket off the back of the chair and wrapped it around yourself. You hadnât been able to stop yourself from letting your eyes close and falling asleep.
Reaching out from beneath the jacket, you checked the time on your phone and confirmed youâd not only slept through the rest of the dinner rush, but through Night Shiftâs closing time. Slowly, you began to uncurl yourself from your position in Jackâs chair, stretching and looking toward the door of his office, wondering why he hadnât woken you up sooner.
Had he forgotten about you?
It was a little dizzying, the sheer amount of disappointment that swept through you at that thought, and it took you a moment to wade through the emotions to get back to rational thought. Jack had been so kind and attentive since heâd rescued you from your bad date, it didnât sit right to think he mightâve forgotten about you.
It also just didnât make sense based on the way heâd looked at you before heâd left you alone to eat. Heâd stared at you so intently with those dark hazel eyes of his, youâd felt like he wanted to consume you. Even just the memory of his stare was enough to warm you from the inside out, heat swirling through your belly before settling between your thighs.
Intending to get to the bottom of why Jack had let you sleep in his office for so long, you did a quick check of your makeup in your phoneâs camera and set your feet on the floor. You were just rising to stand when Night Shiftâs head chef stuck his head in through the open door.
âYouâre up,â he said, his sharp eyes taking in the way you wobbled on your heels, wincing at the pain of wearing them for so long. He came into the room and took your hand, setting a steadying palm on your hip while his fingers twined with yours. âHow are you feeling?â
His attentive question sent more warmth spiralling through your chest, and you smiled softly at the chef, leaning into his warmth. He was still wearing the thin white t-shirt that pulled obscenely across his shoulders and highlighted his bulging biceps, but the brown apron heâd had on earlier was gone, leaving him in just a simple pair of dark jeans and black shoes.
Meanwhile, you were still in the little black dress and heels youâd donned for your date, but somehow you didnât feel overdressed around Jack. You enjoyed the way his eyes raked down your body, appreciating the way your dress clung to your curvesâhugging your hips and cupping your tits. It made you crave the chefâs touch everywhere he looked.
âI feel good, chef,â you murmured huskily, your lips quirking into a little smirk when heat flared in Jackâs eyes. âI needed a little rest, but now Iâve got a second wind.â
âStill want that kitchen tour, sweetheart?â Jack rumbled, his hand on your hip pulling you closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the warmth of it teasing every inch of your bare skin. âYou were such a good girl during the dinner rush, Iâve got that dessert I promised you.â
Something deep inside you clenched tight at the way Jackâs voice rumbled over the words âgood girlâ, his praise going straight to the place between your legs that was beginning to throb the longer his hand remained on your hip. To steady yourself, you lifted your hands to Jackâs biceps, feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingers as you looked at the chef from under your lashes.
âReally?â you asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of your voice, out of your smile.
Jackâs mouth pulled to the side in a slow, wicked grin, his eyes sparkling with humor and something that looked a lot like hunger. âHow do you feel about coffee and chocolate?â
Excitement bubbled up your throat, and you bounced a little on the balls of your feet as you confirmed your undying love for coffee and chocolate. With another grin that had your core clenching, Jack guided you back into the kitchen, his big hand firm against your lower back.
Most of the kitchen staff had cleared out, leaving the space spotless and easier to navigate as Jack walked you through. He showed you each of the stations, and introduced you to the few remaining kitchen staffâincluding his sous chef John Shen and senior chef Parker Ellis.
Jack left you chatting with John and Parker while he rustled around in a fridge, pulling out some containers and setting up a work station on one of the long, silver tables in the center of the room. Once he was done, the other chefs each gave Jack a handshake and half-hug before bidding you a goodnight.
As they left, John exchanged a loaded look with Jack that had the head chefâs face twisting into an exasperatedly stern expression, and you had to bite back a smile. It was clear Jackâs staff loved him, respected himâand teased him every chance they got.
It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, to know that you werenât the only one who felt safe with Jack. He was a good boss, a good man, to everyone in his life. He was the exact opposite of the man youâd gone on a date with and needed to be rescued from.
Jack Abbot was the kind of man you could be alone with in a deserted kitchen and feel only excitement, only the thrumming awareness that something might happen between you two. You turned to him, your gazes meeting, and for a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other, silently acknowledging the sparks igniting in space between your bodies.
âHop up,â Jack said, his voice as rough as a knife on metal. With one hand, he patted the counter beside the cutting board heâd set up, his dark eyes watching you intently.
Your gaze snagged on that hand, on the thickness of his fingers and the smattering of freckles along the back. You remembered how that hand had felt on your hip, on your thigh, and you nearly whimpered with the need to feel his palm on you again, but you managed to bite it back.
Instead, you did as the chef said. You pressed back against the counter, planting your hands on the edge and arching your spine just a little more than necessary to stick out your tits. You were rewarded with Jackâs gaze dropping quickly to your chest before he dragged his eyes back up to your face. With a smirk, you jumped onto the counter, careful not to put too much weight on the wrist your date had grabbed.
The cold metal of the worktable was a stark contrast to the warmth of your bare thighs, and you hissed softly, your shoulders trembling as a shiver snaked down your spine. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your body and wished you hadnât left your jacket in Jackâs office.
But then Jackâs hand was on your knee and he was giving you a concerned look, his silver brows lowered over his hazel eyes. âCold, sweetheart?â
âYeah,â you answered sheepishly, giving a light shrug and trying to shake off the chill. You leaned into Jack, your body seeking his warmth. âThe kitchen gets cold without all the ovens and stoves on, huh?â you asked wryly, trying to get a reaction from the chef, and soften the worried lines of his face.
Jack huffed a laugh, shooting you an amused smirk even as he squeezed your knee in chastisement. The weight of his palm, the soft press of his fingers, had tendrils of heat licking down your spine and settling between your thighs. It took a great deal of effort not to shiver and grab hold of Jack to pull him closer.
âStay here,â he rumbled, pulling away and striding toward his office. You nearly whined at the loss of his body heat, but you perked up quickly when he returned with his leather jacket.
The chef stepped close enough to your legs that your knees brushed his thighs, and your gaze snagged on his. He was so close, you could see the lines in his weathered face, the silver stubble along his jaw, and the light freckles dusted across his cheeks.
Tension crackled as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, his fingers brushing gently against your bare skin, and you leaned closer, until you could feel his unsteady breaths on your lips. Jack went still, his eyes searching yours and you tried your best to tell him without words how much you wanted him to kiss you.
But either Jack didnât get the message or he chickened out, because he swallowed hard and tucked the lapels of the leather jacket around your shoulders, making sure you were ensconced in its warmth before he moved back to his workstation. It seemed to take him a moment to gather himself before he spoke.
âBetter?â he asked, his voice raw with a hunger that made you squeeze your thighs together against a pulsing ache.
âYeah, better,â you answered, your voice faint, trying and failing to shake off the unslaked desire burning through your body. You didnât know if Jack was purposefully ignoring all the signals you were giving him, or if he was truly unaware, but you didnât know how much longer you could last before you simply grabbed the chef and kissed him yourself.
Despite the almost-kiss, you and Jack fell into an easy quiet, him pulling out some dark chocolate and beginning to chop it up into tiny shards while you watched him work.
The muscles in his arms moved mesmerizingly as he worked his knife against the cutting board, his freckled forearms flexing deliciously, his biceps straining the hem of his white t-shirt. You had to wrap your fingers around the edges of Jackâs leather jacket and bury your nose in the collar, breathing in his herby, masculine scent, to keep from reaching out to touch him.
Whatever expression was on your face made Jack smirk when he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. After that, you couldâve sworn he started flexing his arms on purpose, getting fancy with his knife work, like he was trying to impress you.
From anyone else, that mightâve made you roll your eyes, or turned you off entirely, but Jack was so skilled, so charming, and just so downright hot, that it worked for him. His confidence came from his competence, and it was so attractive, it made you squirm where you sat on the counter beside him, the warmth blooming between your thighs becoming nearly impossible to ignore.
âWhatâre you making?â you asked in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from watching the muscles of Jackâs shoulders shift beneath the obscenely thin fabric of his white t-shirt. That t-shirt looked well-loved, and you had a sneaking suspicion it would feel really good to wearâwhile staying the night in Jackâs bedâŠ
âWeâve got some leftover coffee mousse from tonightâs dessert special,â Jack answered, seemingly unaware of how you were ogling him as he continued to chop the dark chocolate into little pieces.
His hands were so deft and skilfull, his fingers so thick and sure, you couldnât help but imagine what it would feel like for Jack to touch you. You imagined him putting his hands on your body, groping your soft curves, slipping his fingers between your thighs to press against your damp pantiesâŠ
âIâm just adding some chocolate to elevate it a little,â Jack glanced at you, and you knew your filthy thoughts were written all over your face by the way his eyes heated when they raked over your face. âChocolate makes everything better, doesnât it, sweetheart?â
Jackâs voice had lowered, sending delightful little tendrils of lust licking down your spine. Even if youâd wanted to, you couldnât have looked away from Jackâs dark gaze, the steady thwack of the knife against his cutting board matching the rhythm of the pulse between your thighs.
Slowly, you nodded your head. âYes, chef,â you murmured, your voice raspier than youâd expected, matching Jackâs lower tenor. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, you thought you might be able to hear it in the quiet kitchen, but it was only your soft, panting breaths.
The measured sounds of Jackâs knife ceased, his eyes dropping to your mouth, watching you breathe for one long moment, and then another, before dragging his gaze back to yours. Tension crackled electrically between your bodies, and it wasnât until your wrist gave a twinge of pain that you realized your hands were braced on the edge of the counter and you were leaning closer to Jack.
He seemed to notice the position of your body at the same time you did, his eyes darting down to where your tits were bouncing softly with your sharp breaths before looking up, a light pink blush appearing beneath his freckles. His gaze collided with yours, and you could feel the older man holding himself back, keeping himself in check.
But that wasnât what you wanted. You wantedâŠhim. Badly.
âJack.â His name was a desperate whimper, barely louder than your breathing, tumbling from your lips. Something in him seemed to break at the sound of his name from your lips, and you thought he might kiss you.
Instead, he surprised you by grabbing a piece of chocolate from his cutting board and lifting it to your lips. He met your stare with his own heated eyes, looking like melted chocolate mixed with caramel.
âHere, sweetheart, have a taste.â
Jackâs words were a low, delectable rumble from deep in his chest, and you couldnât hold back the shiver that raced down your spine, making your shoulders tremble with excitement under the onslaught of his voice and his closeness. You could smell his earthy, masculine scent, and you wanted more.
The tips of Jackâs bare fingers pressed to your lower lip and, instinctively, you parted for him, allowing the older man to feed you the chocolate. The rich, decadent taste burst in your mouth, and your tongue darted out, licking the pads of Jackâs fingers, making his eyes darken even further as he watched your lips close around the bite of chocolate.
You let the confection melt in your mouth, your eyes sliding closed of their own accord as you savored the delicious dark chocolate. You mightâve felt like you were in your own little world, but Jackâs hand fell to your thigh, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress where it rode high on your leg. You had to stifle another shiver as you hummed in delight, catching the rumble of a muffled groan coming from the chef.
When you opened your eyes again, it was to find Jackâs intense hazel eyes searing into yours, his gaze so blisteringly hot, you felt your core clench in anticipation. And since you knew you werenât alone in your attraction and lust, you licked your lips, watching Jack track the movement with his gaze.
âYum,â you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly through the hair on Jackâs arm, nails raking subtly against his warm, freckled skin. You were prepared for him to pull away again, but he didnât, and you let a small smile curve your mouth. âDo you have anything else for me to taste, chef?â
Although your question was, on its surface, innocent, you imbued your words with enough innuendo for your real meaning to get through to him. You knew that it had when the corner of Jackâs lips quirked into a smile, but instead of leaning forward and giving you what you wantedâhis mouthâhe pulled away and turned to something at his station.
The chef popped open one of the storage containers heâd taken out of the fridge and swiped his finger through the mousse inside. You almost squirmed in excitement as he held his hand in front of your mouth, offering you the sweet treat.
Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you held Jackâs scorching gaze as you brought his finger to your lips. You licked teasingly at the mousse, making sure not to touch Jackâs skin with your tongue, and had to fight a smirk when he let out a barely suppressed groan.
Putting both of you out of your misery, you closed your lips around Jackâs thick finger and licked the mousse off of him. The bittersweet taste of the coffee mousse exploded in your mouth, with just a hint of salt from Jackâs skin, and it had you moaning around Jackâs finger. His whole body jerked at the sound and the vibrations.
âChrist, sweetheart,â he groaned softly, his other hand grabbing your thigh, gripping you tightly as he nudged your knees open so he could step between your parted legs. âYou make the prettiest sounds when youâre eating my foodâI just wanna tasteâŠâ
Jackâs finger, still sticky with sugar, slid from your mouth and his hand cupped your cheek, tipping your face toward his. For a moment, he lingered with his lips just barely brushing yours, close enough that you were certain he could taste the coffee and chocolate on your breath.
It felt like he was memorizing the moment, savoring the tension that crackled between your bodies, the way your breath hitched with him so close. Your knees squeezed his sides, your fingers dancing up his ribs, and a soft, breathy whined sounded in your throat as you tried to pull him closer.
âIs this alright, sweetheart?â Jack asked, his thumb stroking your cheek, swiping over the corner of your mouth.
The genuine care in his deep, raspy voice was nearly your undoing. This man had done nothing but take care of you since heâd come striding out of the kitchen to save you from your bad date, but you were tired of him treating you with kid gloves. You wanted him so fucking bad.
Fingers curling in the sides of his t-shirt, you tugged Jack closer, sliding your body to the edge of the counter at the same time, uncaring about how high your dress was riding up your thighs. You parted your lips, tilting your head into the handsome chefâs hand as you pressed your soft body against his hard one.
âYes, Jack,â you whimpered, unable to stand the crackling tension any longer, even as you wanted to bask in it for the rest of your life. âKiss me. Please, chef.â
Jack didnât need to be asked twice. He closed the distance between his mouth and yours, capturing your lips in a slow, decadent kiss that had your heart soaring. His lips were soft, but firm, as they moved against yours, taking immediate control while you were left to gasp and whimper into his mouth.
It was everything youâd hoped it would beâthe older man kissing you sweetly at first, before pressing his thumb to your chin and tilting your head back so he could sweep his tongue into your mouth. The hot slide of him was determined and possessive and so fucking hot, you moaned against his lips, trembling as you met the fervor of his kiss with your own heady lust.
Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you wrapped your arms around Jackâs shoulders, your fingers sinking into the soft, steel gray curls at the back of his head. Your fingers tangled in the strands, tugging lightly on his hiar as your nails raked lightly against his skin, earning you a desperate groan. Jack deepened the kiss again until you couldnât do anything else but breathe him in.
The chefâs hands skimmed down your sides beneath the edges of his leather jacket where it was still balanced precariously on your shoulders. His palms were warm as his thick fingers wrapped around your ribs, pulling you even more flush against his chest, your legs splaying wide to make room for his broad body.
His thick, half-hard cock pressed against your soft inner thigh, and you shifted until he was nestled against your warm center. You rocked your hips, grinding against his bulge, dragging a desperate groan out of the older man.
âFuck, angel, you taste like heaven,â Jack rasped, pressing kisses along your jaw, tickling you with the silver scruff on his cheeks. When he suckled on a spot beneath your ear, you moaned and writhed in his arms, pressing your aching pussy against his hardening cock. âFeel like it, too.â
âGod, you feel so good, Jack,â you babbled breathlessly, rubbing against his body like a cat in heat. You hiked your thighs higher around his waist, using the leverage to hump against his thick cock through your clothes. âI want you. Please, chef,â you begged against Jackâs ear, nipping at the lobe and smiling wildly when he shuddered in your arms, his hips grinding his cock harder against your soft core.
âI thought you were going to be a good girl for me, sweetheart,â Jack growled, his voice softly recriminating as he grabbed your hips hard, his fingers digging roughly into your soft flesh.
But instead of dragging you closer and giving you what you wanted, he pushed you back. Lifting his head from your neck, he gave you a stern look, softened by the affectionate twist of his mouth and the spark of desire in his eyes, sending a zing of lust straight to your dripping slit.
âDonât you wanna be good for me, angel,â he rumbled, his voice deliciously raspy, âand let me feed you some dessert before you start begging me to fuck you?â
Your jaw dropped and you sucked in a sharp breath at Jackâs filthy words, heat suffusing your body so fully, you couldnât find a single word in your entire head to respond. You could only stare at the older man, your thighs squeezing his hips and wordlessly begging him to put your body out of its misery, but Jack simply chuckled at your reaction.
He stole a kiss from your parted lips before gently extricating himself from your clinging body, shushing you softly when you whined at the loss of him. Giving your hips one last rough squeeze, he stepped out from between your legs and adjusted his thick cock in his jeans as he moved back to his workstation.
It was absurd how cold you felt without him, and you pulled Jackâs leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, pouting at the chef. He pretended to ignore you, scooping up chocolate shards and dumping them into a bowl along with some mousse while you kicked your feet petulantly and whined, âJaaack.â
That got you an amused smirk. âJust a few bites,â he urged, picking up the bowl and beginning to whisk the chocolate into the mouse, melting it into the dessert. âI promise itâll be worth it,â Jack said, giving you another of his charming winks.
It had its intended effect, and you softened, endeavoring to wait patiently, though you still made a show of grumbling your discontent even as you got distracted by watching him work. Jackâs arms flexed deliciously while he whisked the chocolate into the mousse, his biceps straining the sleeves of his t-shirt so enticingly, you wanted to bite them, then lick every freckle, then bite him again.
Jackâs low chuckle let you know heâd caught your hungry look, and heat flooded your cheeks, but you didnât get a chance to stammer out an apology or an explanation before he was setting the bowl down and grabbing a spoon. Scooping up some of the mousse mixture, he lifted it to your lips.
You opened eagerly, already knowing whatever Jack made would be delicious, and let him pop the bite into your mouth. Jack watched you closely as he pulled the spoon out, giving you a moment to taste what heâd given you.
The delectable flavors of rich coffee and velvety chocolate melted on your tongue, and your eyes slid closed as you savored the sweetness, a low moan slipping from your lips at how good the dessert tasted.
âJesus, Jack, thatâs the best thing I think Iâve ever had in my mouth,â you groaned, opening your eyes. You found Jack staring at you, a wild look in his eyes, and so much hunger in their depths, it stole the breath from your lungs. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
You half expected the chef to pounce on you, to kiss the remnants of the dessert from your lips and show you what other things he could stuff in your mouth, but you shouldâve known better. Jack didnât take the bait of your comment as he kept a white-knuckle grip on himself, holding back even as more tension than ever snapped and crackled between the two of you.
âWant some more, sweetheart?â he rasped, holding your gaze.
Your head was bobbing an eager nod before heâd even finished the question, and he lifted another spoonful of mousse to your lips, watching as you ate it happily, humming in delight. When Jack fed himself some of the sweet concoction, you could only watch with rapt attention as it disappeared inside his mouth, his tongue flicking out to catch some left at the corner of his lips.
The need in your body had pulled you taut as a bowstring, your skin practically vibrating with desire by the time youâd finished enough of the dessert for Jack to hopefully be satisfied. It was a testament to his culinary skills that you were still able to taste the chocolatey coffee confection with how much lust was swirling through your body, simmering low in your belly.
You squirmed where you sat, the metal beneath your thighs warm from your skin, and felt how wet you were, your panties nearly soaked with your desire. You were hot enough that you pushed the jacket from your shoulders, and looked directly at Jack, pouting at the chef once more.
âJack, please,â you whined, your fingers curling around the edges of his t-shirt, knuckles brushing his ribs. You felt him suck in a breath as he let you tug him back between your legs, your body trembling with excitement and need. âIâve had enough dessert, I need something elseâŠâ
The older man didnât respond immediately, his head ducked, watching as his palms skimmed up the outside of your bare thighs, like he could barely believe you were letting him touch you. Your fingers trailed up his arms, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails raking lightly against his skin. You watched him close his eyes at the sensation, knowing he enjoyed it.
âIâve been a good girl, havenât I?â you murmured in Jackâs ear, feeling the tension in his shoulders as they bunched beneath your arms. He let out a slow breath, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. âIâve been so good, and I want you so bad, Jack. Touch meâplease, chef.â
The last thread of Jackâs control snapped at your commentâyou felt it in the way his muscles moved, poised on the edge of giving in before he finally let his desire loose after your begging plea. His hands grabbed you roughly, fingers digging into your bare ass beneath the hem of your dress as he yanked you closer.
His mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a blisteringly hot, devouring kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. He wrapped you up in his arms, crushing you to his chest as he kissed you, gorging himself on your mouth, his hands groping greedily at your body while you clung to him.
It was everything youâd wanted from the chef, and the corners of your lips curved in an attempt at smile, but then Jack was kissing you harder, overwhelming you until you were moaning mindlessly into his mouth. Youâd never felt more desired than you did when Jack kissed you, and youâd never felt more in danger of letting yourself fall for someone.
You were mostly lost to your lust, your nipples puckered and needy where they were pressed against the chefâs chest and your pussy aching to be filled, but it occurred to you that Jack was different from all the other men youâd dated. He was kind and gentle and steady, and he kissed you so good your head spun.
It struck you suddenly that while you knew you were safe with Jack, you were in danger of losing your heart to him. But that was the kind of danger you wanted to be inâespecially since you knew that if you fell for him, Jack would catch you.
So you kissed the chef right back, pouring your desire for him into the slide of your mouth against his, holding him close as you flung yourself off the edge, letting emotions swirl and swell in your chest, confident that heâd carry your heart in his hands and protect it with his life.
Youâd never been safer in your entire life than you were in Jack Abbotâs arms.
Jack Abbot was in heaven.
In all his years of cooking, of being a chef, heâd never tasted anything as divine as you.
He could gorge himself on you and still never get enoughânot of the way your mouth moved against his, your lips soft and tongue eager as it twined with his. He couldnât get enough of the feel of your body beneath his hands, so sweet and supple and responsive.
Every press of his fingertips into your spine had you arching into him, breathy, little whines slipping from your lips for him to devour. He could taste the coffee and chocolate on your tongue, and he sucked on your plump lower lip, groaning as he savored the combination of the dessert heâd fed you with the natural flavor that was all your own.
Kissing you was making him unbelievably hardâharder than heâd been in a long timeâhis cock heavy and weeping in his jeans. The only thing that saved him from embarrassment was how enthusiastically you were grinding against his bulge, the dampness of your panties leaving a wet spot where his cock was straining against the dark denim.
Jack dragged his hands up your sides, wrapping his fingers around your ribs, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your tits, teasing you both with the barest of touches. You let out a soft, keening sound against his mouth, making him smirk before he pressed kisses along your jaw and down the smooth column of your neck.
âMore, Jack, please,â you begged, your hands fisted in his shirt and tugging on him restlessly. The desperation in your voice, the way you begged for him, it made his cock twitch for you.
He shifted his hands higher, groping your tits through your dress and dragging a filthy moan from your pretty lips. The pads of his thumbs teased your hardened nipples, and he reveled in the way your body shuddered in his arms. Your spine arched, pressing your tits into his hands and he rewarded you by rubbing your nipples more with his thumbs.
âYa like this, sweetheart?â Jack rasped against your neck, raising his head enough to nip at your ear. âLike letting an old chef feel up your pretty tits?â
âOld, hot chef,â you shot back, correcting him in a deliciously breathless voice.
Jackâs cock twitched at the compliment, and he couldnât believe how lucky he was to have found youâsomeone so beautiful and full of life. Someone so into him.
He pressed his smile into the spot beneath your ear, kissing and licking your skin until you were moaning softly.
âAnd yes, chef, I love it. Touch me more, touch me harderâplease,â you begged, squirming where you sat on the metal counter in his kitchen.
What was Jack supposed to do? Deny you?
He couldnât even fathom the idea of not giving you what you asked for, even if he knew that he was letting things get a little out of control. The two of you were still at Night Shift, and though the staff had left for the night, it wasnât the best idea to have sex in his kitchen.
But Jack couldnât seem to stop himself, not when you were making such pretty noises while he sucked a hickey into your neck and teased your nipples with the lightest of pinches. His mouth trailed up your throat before capturing your lips in another kiss, swallowing your sounds of pleasure while he played with your tits.
It had been so long since Jack had lost himself in anyoneâthere hadnât been anyone whoâd awoken that desire in him the way you did. Not since his wife passed. You were a siren calling him to the danger of your body, to the promise of losing his heart to you, and Jack knew he could drown in you if you let him. He hoped to god you let him.
For long, endless minutes, Jack kissed you and groped your tits, playing with your nipples and seeing how many different noises he could pull from your lips. And for a while, you let him, the sounds of your pleasure growing more high-pitched, your hips working more desperately to hump against his cock.
Eventually, your need mustâve grown too great, your frustration too acute, because you grabbed one of Jackâs wrists and shoved his hand down between your bodies, until his fingers brushed your soaked panties.
âTouch me here, Jack, pleaseâI need it,â you whimpered in his ear, and it was nearly his undoing.
It was his turn to gasp and groan, the tips of his fingers stroking against the sodden fabric as he used every ounce of the self-control heâd learned in the army not to spill himself in his jeans right then. You were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet.
Jack teased his fingers along the seam of your slit through your panties, hoping you couldnât tell how much his hand was shaking. You felt so perfect, it was overwhelming. Heâd stopped kissing you, your mouths close as you breathed each otherâs air, panting your excitement together while he pressed into your cunt through your slick panties.
âLike this, sweetheart?â he rumbled, the edge of his mouth pulling up in a smirk when you let out a desperate little mewl. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly while you rocked your hips onto his hand.
âJaaack,â you sobbed, and heâd never heard anything as sweet as the sound of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, pleasure soaked into your voice.
You pulled harder on his hair, and the jolt of pain went straight to his dick, which leaked even more precum into his jeans. Jack responded by pushing his fingers deeper between the lips of your pussy, his progress restricted by your panties, which prevented him from burying his fingers in your hole.
A violent shiver wracked your body, and Jack wrapped his other arm more tightly around your lower back, holding you close while he fucked you shallowly with his fingers. His thumb teased your clit with a featherlight touch, drawing a feral sound from your perfect mouth.
âPlease, oh god, please, chef, touch meâfuck me with your fingers, please, please, please,â you babbled, yanking on his hair to draw him closer. But instead, Jack took the opportunity to lean back and take a look at youâand what a sight you were.
Your head was thrown back, your expression openly desperate with lust. Your gorgeous eyes were dazed with desire, your plump, perfect lips parted and panting for air. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths, enough that your tits threatened to spill out of your mussed dress, which was hiked up high, Jackâs big hand pressed between your soft thighs.
You looked debauched. You looked so beautiful, Jackâs heart clenched in his chest and he couldnât stop himself from imagining you looking like this in a million different waysâon the desk in his office, in the backseat of his car, on his couch at home, in his bed.
In that moment, Jack wanted nothing more than to have you in all those ways. He wanted to move you into his place and put a ring on your fingerâhe wanted to make you his and keep you forever. He was stunned by how much he wanted you.
âJaaack,â you whined, your sweet voice bringing him back to the moment. Your eyes were wide and pleading as you looked at him. âI was a good girl, wasnât I?â you asked so pitifully, Jackâs heart ached.
A single tear slipped down your cheek and he cupped your face, panic stealing into his gut and making his stomach drop. He wiped your tears away, already knowing he was going to give you whatever you wanted. If youâd asked him to lay down and die for you, he wouldâve done it without a second thought.
âYouâre being so mean, chef, when I was so good for you,â you whimpered, your hips worked against his hand. The movement reminded Jack of how heâd been teasing you with his fingers, dragging you to the edge of desperation when all you wanted was to be full of him.
âOh, baby, baby, baby,â Jack groaned, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
He held your face in one hand as he kissed you, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips, while the other tugged your panties to the side. He pushed one of his thick fingers into your tight, dripping hole, swallowing your moan like it was the most exquisite decadence heâd ever tasted.
âIâm sorry, angel, youâre right,â he rumbled against your mouth, pumping his finger steadily into your pussy, feeling your gummy walls gripping him tight. âYou were such a good girl for meâso good that âm gonna make you come on my fingers, alright?â
âPromise?â you asked, pouting up at him from under your lashes, and Jack knew he was in trouble, because that look on your face could get him to do anything you asked.
The corner of your mouth twitched, like you were holding back a grin, and Jackâs heart thumped in his chest because you knew the effect you had on him. He liked that a little too much. He liked that you werenât afraid of torturing him a little bit after heâd teased you a little too much. It felt intimate, like you were building something real together, something that would certainly last past the night.
âI promise, angel,â he cooed, stroking his finger deeper before adding a second one, watching the way your breath caught on a gasp, biting back a self-satisfied smirk. âThereâs a rule in my kitchen, yâknow,â he went on, talking out of his ass to keep your attention on him even as he finger-fucked your pussy. âGood girls always get to come on the chefâs fingersâand youâve been such a good girl for me, baby.â
You let out a soft, breathy giggle at that, just like Jack had hoped, and he pumped his fingers harder into your wet, gripping cunt, making your laugh devolve into a dirty moan. Your body went loose and languid in his arms, and he rewarded you by pressing his thumb against your clit. He rubbed the little bundle of nerves, watching how you reacted until he found exactly what you liked most.
âThink you can take another, sweetheart?â Jack asked, pressing kisses to your heated cheeks and cleaning away the remnants of your tears with his lips. He trailed his mouth down to your neck, enjoying the way you shivered when his stubble rasped against your sensitive skin. âCan you take one more finger in this sweet cunt, baby?â
âYes, please, chef,â you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin through his thin t-shirt.
Every pinprick became throbbing pleasure as it zinged down to his cock. He hadnât been so close to coming in his pants since he was a teenager, but he fought off his own desire and focused on you. You and your pleasure were what mattered to him, not his dick.
âGood girl,â Jack purred, grinning into your neck when your pussy pulsed at the praise. He eased a third finger into your slick hole, biting back a groan when your tight warmth enveloped him. He pressed his cock against your soft thigh, looking down and watching your pussy take his thick fingers. âFuck, angel, look at youâtaking me so well.â
You leaned back, looking down your body, and Jack knew the moment you saw his fingers disappearing inside your cunt because you clamped down hard around him, like your body was trying to suck him deeper. He stifled another helpless groan, pumping into you, pressing against a spot that had you shivering and moaning wantonly.
You fell back further, planting your hands on the counter to hold yourself up, trying to use your leverage to bear down further on his fingers. But youâd barely rocked your hips in a slow roll when you let out a cryâthe tenor making the hairs on the back of Jackâs neck stand upâas your arms gave out and you fell backward.
Quick as he could, Jack slid his free arm up your back, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to catch you before your head could hit the shelves above the counter. He pulled his hand from between your legs, holding onto your bare thigh with his sticky fingers as he ducked his head to meet your eyes.
âWhatâs wrong, baby? What happened?â he asked, his gaze searching your face, which was twisted like you were trying to hide your pain. âDid I hurt you?â he asked, his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the thought.
You shook your head, rejecting the idea, which calmed Jack for a moment. Until you spoke.
âMy wrist,â you whimpered. âHurts.â
It took all of a second for Jack to understand what had happened. Youâd put too much pressure on the wrist that your worthless excuse of a date had grabbed, had hurt, and it had given out. Rage flooded through Jackâs body, his blood pumping hot with the desire to track down Curtis Larsen and beat him to a bloody pulp.
But Jack knew that wouldnât help anyone, least of all you, so he worked to rein in his anger. He focused on you, making sure you could sit up on your own before taking the hand of your injured wrist in his.
When he held it up to the bright lights in the kitchen, he could see bruises had formed where Curtis had grabbed you. Before he could stop it, a choked off growl rumbled beneath his sternum, the animalistic sound only ceasing when you stroked your palm down his chest, soothing him.
It took Jack another moment to collect himself, to gather his anger and put it in a box to deal with later. Gently, he lifted your hurt wrist to his mouth and brushed the sweetest, softest butterfly kisses over the bruises mottling your skin.
âIâd kill him if I thought I could get away with it,â Jack confessed, hoping to make you giggle again, his eyes lifting to your face to watch your reaction.
Although you didnât laugh, his words did the trick of bringing the spark back into your eye. A shy smile curved the corners of your pretty mouth, and you lifted your other hand to cup Jackâs jaw, your thumb teasing over the stubble on his cheek.
âHeâs not worth the effort,â you said, and though Jack agreed with you, he didnât like the idea of letting Curtis Larsen get away with hurting you.
âHmm,â Jack hummed noncommittally, wondering if he could call the police tomorrow and report the man for assault since itâd happened in his restaurant.
He liked that idea.
He liked the idea of locking up Curtis Larsen and throwing away the key even more. But you were his priority, not that jackass that had been your date, so he focused back on you.
Jack squeezed your thigh, his thumb teasing close to the edge of your panties. âDo you want to keep going, sweetheart?â he asked, his gaze watching you carefully. âI can take you home if youâd prefer.â
The change in your expression was immediate, your lower lip pushing out in a pout, your eyes widening and looking at Jack from under your lashes.
âI want to keep going,â you murmured, almost shyly, meeting Jackâs gaze before it dropped to his mouth. Your free hand fell to his arm, moving his hand from your thigh back between your legs then looking up at him. âI donât want my shitty date to ruin our nightâand you promised me Iâd get to come on your fingers.â
A small smile curved Jackâs mouth and he ducked forward, stealing a quick kiss from your pouting lips before he pulled away. His grin was cocky as he pushed your panties to the side and teased your tight hole with the tips of his fingers.
âYouâre rightâand I always keep my promises, baby,â he assured you, pressing his fingers into your pussy while he watched you closely, making sure he didnât hurt you.
Once they were buried inside you, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your injured wrist, then brought your hand to his shoulder. He gave you a pleased smile when you lifted your other arm to circle loosely around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape.
âHold on to me, angel,â Jack urged, easing his fingers out, then back inside your pussy, feeling your slick, tight cunt stretch around him. He watched your eyes go hazy with lust, your mouth falling open as you panted through your pleasure. âIâll make you feel goodâmake you forget everything that happened tonight before I came to your table.â
With a soft, sweet sigh, you draped your arms over Jackâs shoulders, taking all the weight off your wrists, and leaned forward to nuzzle into the side of his neck. Warmth suffused his body, his cock twitching in his jeans when he felt you press a kiss to the underside of his scruffy jaw.
âThank you, Jack,â you murmured, your voice almost low enough to be drowned out by the quiet whir of machinery in the kitchen. Your warm breath brushed against Jackâs throat and he had to suppress a shiver, focusing on your words. âYouâre all I want to remember about tonight.â
Jackâs arm tightened around your lower back, instinctively pulling you closer as his heart gave a heavy thump in his chest. Your sweet words called to something deep in his soul, something that hadnât been fed in too long for him to be normal about it.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell you he wanted to spend every night with you, that he wanted you in his bed when he woke up in the morning and to come home to you in his kitchen. He wanted to cook for you and take you out and move you in with himâŠ
But Jack knew it was way too soon to be having those thoughts, let alone say them out loud, so he put on the charm, hoping you couldnât tell where his mind had wandered.
âAnd the food, right?â he asked, his tone teasing and light as he fucked you with his fingers again, his thrusts building you back up to where youâd been. He could feel the way your body trembled in his arms, and he held you tighter so he could feel the pleasure work through you. âYou want to remember the food, right, sweetheart?â
You huffed a laugh against Jackâs neck, your tongue darting out and swiping up the side of his throat, making him groan helplessly at the obscene feeling of you licking him. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, his cock grinding against your soft inner thigh.
âOh yes, chef,â you purred in his ear, your voice shaky and breathless and so, so sweet as he pumped his fingers into you harder, his thumb rubbing your clit. âI want to remember everything I got to taste tonight.â
Your words conjured images of your pert mouth on Jackâs cock, your teasing tongue swirling around the tip, licking up his precum before sucking him deep between your soft lips. It was such a hot image, Jack had to duck his head and muffle his tortured groan into your shoulder.
It took him a full minute to get himself together, your giggles echoing softly in the empty kitchen while your nails raked through his silver curls. Once he was able to focus again on the present, Jack pressed his mouth to your collarbone, licking and sucking your skin down to your tits, pushing the top of your dress down so he could take your nipple into his mouth.
The older man was rewarded with a sharp cry from your lips, your spine arching and pressing your tits further into his mouth. Jack grinned into your soft flesh and began to lavish them with his attention, his fingers still working in and out of your pussy while his thumb rubbed your clit in teasing, maddening circles.
It occurred to Jack that he could stay right where he was for a long, long time and be happy to keep sucking on your tits, learning what made you squirm and moan, all while he fucked your cunt with his fingers. But all too soon, you were hovering on the edge of your release, your pussy fluttering around Jackâs fingers, your cries turning high-pitched and desperate while your body worked to find your pleasure.
Your fingers were threaded in his hair, clutching his head tight to your chest as you moaned and rocked your hips harder on his fingers. Mindless pleas were falling from your kiss-swollen lips, frantic appeals for âmoreâ and âharderâ, begging him to give you the release you needed.
Jack was torn between drawing out the moment, making it last forever, and giving you what you wanted. Eventually, his need to take care of you won out, and he pushed his fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb mercilessly rubbing your clit while he lifted his head from your chest.
âCome for me, sweetheart,â he growled in your ear. âShow me what a good girl you are and come all over chefâs fingersâlet go, let me see you come for me.â He pressed his fingers against that spot deep inside your body and stroked your clit, feeling you tighten around him.
Pulling back enough to see your face, Jack watched you succumb to pleasure, your release taking hold of your body and making you throw your head back, a desperate, breathy cry bursting from your mouth. Your fingers tightened in hair, and your pussy clamped down on his fingers, making him work to keep fucking you through the waves of pleasure surging through your body, which trembled in his arms.
âGood girl,â Jack rumbled, his fingers slowly sliding in and out of your pulsing channel, wringing every ounce of bliss from your body. âSweet girl, perfect girl.â
You curled forward and sobbed your pleasure into Jackâs neck, and when you shuddered at the overstimulation of his fingers, he gently eased you down from your peak. Once your release had ebbed, he slipped his fingers out of your body, and helped you to sit up.
âYou gonna keep being a good girl and clean me up, baby?â he asked, touching his wet, dripping fingers to your plump lower lip. Jack didnât know what had come over him, but the desire to see you taste yourself was too great to ignore, and he hoped he wasnât making you uncomfortable.
He was pleased when your already unfocused eyes went even more hazy, your head nodding and a smile curling the edges of your mouth before you parted your lips and let Jack slip his fingers inside. You hummed a happy sound that went straight to Jackâs dick then got to work cleaning your own release from his skin.
It was such an erotic sight that Jack thought he could watch you suck on his fingers for the rest of the night, but then he realized heâd given away the opportunity to taste you himself and he got ridiculously jealous. You werenât done cleaning him up, but he pulled his fingers from between your lips and shoved them into his own mouth.
Jack groaned at your taste, savoring the musky flavor of your pleasure while he held your gaze, letting you watch him lick his fingers clean. Your eyes were hooded and full of renewed lust, your lips swollen and parted as you panted for him.
He couldnât stop himself. Between one breath and the next, his mouth was crushing against yours in a mindless, feral kiss. He could taste your pussy on your tongue when his delved into your mouth and it drove him wild. His arms wrapped around your body, crushing you to his chest while he kissed you harder, groaning when your fingers pressed into his spine and clung to him just as tightly.
âJack, I want more,â you cried when your lips wrenched free from his, your fingers trailing around his ribs and down over his stomach until you could cup his thick erection through his jeans. âI need you inside meâneed you filling me until Iâm so full of your cock, itâs all I can think about.â
âFuck, angel, you beg so pretty, how can I say no?â Jack teased, his voice only a little unsteady. He tried to pull away, but couldnât bring himself to when you were stroking his cock through his pants, wringing desperate whimpers from him that wouldâve embarrassed him if you werenât smiling like the cat that got the cream. âCâmere, baby, let me fill up that greedy pussy of yours.â
But when Jack grabbed your ass and pulled you close to he could thrust into your pussy through your clothes, he felt a twinge of pain in his leg where it rubbed uncomfortably against his prosthetic. The pain shot straight up his spine, making his mind go completely blank for a moment, his breath catching in his lungs.
During work, Jack could typically grit his teeth and bear the pain when it hit, but heâd been on his feet for too long. Heâd pushed himself beyond his own limits and his body was reminding him that he wasnât the young, spry man heâd once been.
âJack?â you asked, your voice thick with concern.
The older man took stock of himself, and realized heâd half collapsed against you, his head on your shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants as he breathed through the pain. Heâd shifted his weight to his one good foot, leaving him a little off-balance and using you to steady himself.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly, stroking your fingers comfortingly through his hair and across his shoulders. When he relaxed into your touch, you held him tighter, not seeming to mind that he was putting some of his weight on you.
âMy prosthetic,â he grumbled, not entirely happy that this was how he was telling you, but not shying away from the truth either. âHurts.â
âYour prosthetic?â you asked after a moment, and Jack paid close attention to the tone of your voice. You sounded confused, maybe a little curious, but Jack was relieved that there wasnât revulsion or, worse, pity in your tone.
âLost my leg while I was in the army,â he explained, taking a deep breath as he began to recover his strength. The pain had subsided, leaving him a little shaky and off-balance, but fine.
âOh, okay,â you said, nothing but acceptance in your tone.
Your fingers were still idly playing with Jackâs hair and that, more than anything else, helped him feel betterâthough he knew heâd have to get off his feet soon. He was trying to work out how to tell you he couldnât fuck you on the counter in this position when you took him by surprise with another question.
âIs that how you got the medal?â
Jack paused. Of all the questions you couldâve askedâand heâd heard most, if not all of themâthat wasnât one heâd anticipated. Most folks didnât know about the medal, and it took him a moment to remember that he kept it on his desk in his office, where youâd spent most of the evening.
The realization that youâd been curious enough about him to look through his desk made his heart soar, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. For some reason, it didnât bother him, you going through his things. It felt right, the idea of you being comfortable in his space.
âWere you snooping through my stuff, sweetheart?â Jack asked teasingly, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze, curious about how youâd react to the question.
He watched your eyes widen slightly, your gaze darting away before returning to his with a sheepish look on your face. âIt was on top of your desk,â you mumbled, shrugging, then wincing at how blithe you sounded. âI didnât go through any drawers or anything, I swear.â
Jack couldnât help but chuckle at how guilty you looked, and he smoothed a hand down your spine in a reassuring gesture. âYouâre adorable,â he murmured, capturing your lips in a kiss to let you know you were forgiven. âAnd yes, itâs how I got the medal. Iâve made peace with it, but sometimes, it makes thingsâŠtricky.â
You nodded somberly as you absorbed that information, your eyes dropping down to where Jack was still half-leaning against you. The chef could practically see the gears turning in your head as you thought, but he was still taken by surprise when you lifted your gaze back to his and asked, âWould it help if I was on top?â
Your question made Jack pause again. Heâd been with his wife already when heâd lost his leg, and sheâd helped him figure out what worked afterward. It had given him the confidence heâd needed to eventually move on after sheâd passed on. But the few flings heâd had since werenât as easily accepting as you, and none of them had been as considerate.
It made Jackâs heart clench in his chest as he realized all over again how glad he was to have found you. Although he wished the circumstances of your meeting were differentâhe wished youâd never been hurt by your dateâhe was grateful that the universe had brought you together.
âYeah, actually, it would,â Jack said, matching your serious tone with his honesty.
It was another moment where the weight of his feelings for you took him by surprise, especially after knowing you for such a short time. In an effort not to scare you away by revealing how he felt, he used his charm to lighten the mood. Ducking his head, he caught your eye and let a smirk play on his lips.
âDo you wanna ride me, baby?â he asked, his tone teasing, his smirk spreading into a full-blown confident grin when lust bloomed in your eyes, none of it tainted by pity or fear or disgust. It made his cock throb for you. âWanna ride chefâs cock and make us both feel good?â
âYes, please, chef. Iâd love to ride you,â you purred, pushing him gently back to give you room to move.
You held his gaze as you reached beneath the hem of your dress and wiggled until youâd yanked your panties off, looking at him expectantly. Jack unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, shoving his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free.
He watched your eyes dart down, then widen when you took in the size of his thick cock. His dick wasnât the longest, but it was fat enough that his three fingers stretching your pussy would feel small in comparison. Suddenly, he hoped you werenât afraid.
It was on the tip of his tongue to reassure you, to tell you that you could stop this at any time and the two of you could go slow if that was what you needed. But before he could get the words out, your eyes lifted to his and he saw the spark of eager excitement in their depths, in the curve of your grin.
You looked like a sultry creature feral with lust, your pretty, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a sensuous smile as you hopped off the counter and prowled closer to him, only wobbling a little in your heels. Jack reached for you at the same moment you spun him around and shoved him onto the counter so you could climb on top of him.
âIâm gonna make us feel sooo good, chef,â you promised, settling your knees on either side of Jackâs hips and rising up, wrapping your fingers around his thick cock. Jackâs hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up so he could see your bare pussy where you rubbed the tip of his dick through your slick folds. âGonna ride your cock until youâre coming hard in my cunt. Tell me you want it, tooâplease, chef.â
For a moment, all words fled Jackâs mind. All he could do was feel the teasing warmth of your pussy kissing the tip of his cock, hear the soft wet sounds of your desire, smell the scent of your arousal. All he could see was you, looking like a goddess above him, promising him pleasure.
Fuck, Jack Abbot really was in heaven, and he hoped he never had to leave.
You were right where you were meant to be.
You couldnât explain what had come over youâwhether it was simply the lust youâd felt at the sight of the older manâs thick cock or if it was everything about the chefâbut you had the sense that everything youâd been through that night was worth it because youâd met Jack Abbot.
He was everything youâd been looking for in a partnerâkind and capable, charming and funnyâand plenty that you hadnât known youâd wanted, like the way he could talk just as dirty as you, and cook way better than you ever could. Heâd been gentle when heâd kissed your injured wrist, but hadnât held back when heâd fucked you with his fingers, giving it to you as rough as you needed to get off.
Jack had made you feel safe and desired. Heâd taken care of you in every way youâd needed throughout the night, and you were in serious danger of falling for him. If you hadnât already. It mightâve been a little crazy, but you mightâve fallen for him already.
The weight of your feelings were too heavy to tell the chef just yet, so you focused instead on the moment, on the feeling of Jackâs broad tip teasing between the lips of your pussy, of the firm grip of his hands on your hips, and the heat of his eyes as he watched you tease his cock.
It was intoxicating, seeing the unrestrained lust in Jackâs face, darkening his hazel eyes and twisting his mouth into something feral and hungry. The thought crossed your mind that you could try to tease him until he snapped, the last remnants of his patience falling away as he yanked you down on his cock. But just the fantasy had you pulsing with need.
You needed Jackâs cock inside you. Immediately.
But before you could start to lower yourself down on Jackâs bare length, you remembered yourself. You paused, hovering above his thick, throbbing cock, and took a breath to steady yourself. Still, your voice was a little shaky as you spoke.
âIâm on birth control; Iâve been tested, and it was clear,â you rushed to say, hoping Jack could understand your words even as they tripped over each other to fall off your tongue. You braced one hand on his shoulder and looked dead in the older manâs eyes. âI want you bare, Jack, please.â
âJesus,â he cursed, letting his head fall against your chest. His shoulders were trembling slightly, and it took a moment for the man to get himself together to look at you. You wanted him without a condom too badly to rush him. âIâm all clear, too, angel,â he rasped, staring into your eyes. âIt would be the honor of my life to fuck you raw, baby.â
Your heart soared, battering against your ribs like a caged bird wanting to take flight. You were so overcome by emotion, by your desire for this man, that you couldnât think of doing anything else but kiss him. Jack cupped your face while your fingers sank into his steel gray curls, both of you holding each other tight as you kissed, hard and deep, with all the wild, unfettered emotion you felt.
Before the kiss even ended, you were already pressing down on his cock, only pulling away from Jackâs mouth when the tip pushed inside your body, the stretch making you gasp. He was wider than anything youâd taken before, and it sent a filthy shiver sliding down your spine as you felt your body straining to take him.
âGod, Jack, youâre soâfuck, youâre so fucking big,â you whimpered, your eyes crossing a little as you lowered yourself another inch, grateful that heâd already finger-fucked you to orgasm once, since it made the slide slightly easier. You shuddered with the effort not to impale yourself all at once, knowing it would be a mistake if you didnât go slow.
âCareful, sweetheart, donât hurt yourself,â Jack warned, but there was a hint of a teasing chuckle in his tone that drove you wild, your pussy clenching around and suckling on the tip of his cock. His words devolved into a pleasured groan that trickled down your spine like warm honey. âFuck, I can feel you squeezing me alreadyâyouâre so tight and warm and wet. Jesus.â
âUh huh, uh huh, so wet for you,â you babbled, bouncing a little on Jackâs cock to take him deeper. Your pussy stretched to accomodate him and the feeling of fullness stole the breath from your lungs. âYouâre splitting me open so good, Jack, fuckâfuck, chef.â
âMm,â Jack hummed, his hands kneading your ass and sliding up your spine beneath your dress, pulling you flush against his chest. His mouth found your neck, pressing kisses to your skin that had you shivering in his arms. âYouâre gonna take it all, arenât ya, baby,â he rumbled into the hollow of your throat, âbecause youâre such a good girl for me, huh?â
You couldnât explain it, but Jackâs words had a ridiculous effect on you, making your pussy gush even more while your heart soared. Your hips rolled, pressing down determinedly and taking his cock nearly to the root, the stretch dragging a gasp from your lips while you clutched the older man close, reveling in the feel of his mouth on your neck.
âYuh huh, your good girl,â you moaned, feeling Jackâs cock deep in your body. It filled you up so good, stretching you nearly to your limit, but youâd gone slow enough that it didnât hurtâjust made you impatient to have all of him.
You squirmed in his lap, lifting up and pressing back down, taking more and more of him with every downward thrust. Jack chuckled darkly as his hands hand returned to your hips, groping you with those thick, skillful fingers of his while he helped you bounce on his cock.
âThatâs right, my good girl,â Jack rumbled, the possessiveness in his voice making your whole body clench, wringing a desperate groan from his mouth. He pulled you closer at the same moment when you spread your knees wide, and the result was your body being finally fully impaled on his cock.
The sudden, complete fullness was a delicious shock to your system and you wrapped yourself tightly around Jack, your arms circling his shoulders while you trembled and adjusted to the size of his fat cock buried in your cunt. It took you a breath to return to the moment, feeling Jackâs hands smoothing over your bare thighs in soothing gestures.
âAtta girl,â Jack praised, pressing a kiss to your sweat-damp temple. âYouâre taking me so well, sweetheart. Feels like you were made for meâmade to take my cock.â
A soft, breathy laugh burst from your lips, because those words were exactly what you wanted to hear, and it surprised you to hear them from Jackâs mouth. It made you feel like you werenât alone in the big, overwhelming feelings you were having too soon for the chef, and you pressed your face into his shoulder to silence yourself before you said something too soon.
Instead, you focused on the feel of Jack. Every little movement of your body had his cock shifting inside your tight channel, his heavy length dragging against your sensitive inner walls, making your surprised laughter turn into a helpless moan.
âYou feel sooo good,â you murmured, rocking your hips and getting lost in sensation. With your head fuzzy and full of pleasure, you sat up enough to look into Jackâs face, staring deep into his eyes. âIf I was made to take anyoneâs cock, Jack, Iâd want it to be yours,â you said, not realizing until the words were out of your mouth just how revealing they were.
But instead of the depth of your desire scaring the chef, his gaze turned more intense, and a flicker of a smile played around the corner of his mouth. He drew you closer, until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth away from his. His eyes were hot and dark as they stared deep into your soul.
âIâm so glad you came into my restaurant tonight, angel,â Jack rasped, so much genuine affection in his tone, it made you melt further into him, your knees squeezing his hips while you clung to his shoulders. âMeeting you has made this the best night of my lifeâI hope youâll let me see you again.â
âOh, Jack,â you whispered, tears stinging your eyes, not from sadness but a boundless happiness. You tried to blink them away, embarrassed to be crying while Jackâs cock was still buried in your body, but the older man didnât seem to mind, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and brushing away the few tears that fell. âIâd really like to see you again, too.â
âGood,â he said, his voice so decisive that you knew it was settled. Your heart soared in your chest, and a smile broke across your face. You couldnât have said which of you leaned forward first, closing the distance so your mouths came together in a kiss, a promise.
The kiss was slow and sensual, one of Jackâs hands cupping the back of your head while you explored each other. It was a delicious kiss, made all the more exquisite when Jackâs tongue licked into your mouth, drawing needy sounds from your lips as he kissed you deeper, like he wanted to remind you that he was buried in more than one of your holes.
You barely noticed when your hips began to rock, fucking yourself on Jackâs big cock. But when his hands dropped to your hips, urging you on, you had to pull away from his mouth with a gasp.
Tossing your head back, you focused on riding your chef, lifting up onto your knees and slamming back down on his hard, thick length. It was dizzyingly glorious, the heat and hardness of him filling your tight hole, punching the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but let out mindless sounds of pleasure.
âThatâs my girl, fuck yourself on my cock,â Jack murmured encouragingly, his hands on your ass helping you lift yourself up and slide back down his stiff shaft. He groaned, loud enough to drown out the wet sounds of your pussy and the soft clap of your ass hitting his thighs. âFuck, angel, you feel so goodâsuch a good girl, riding chefâs cock like a fucking champ.â
A shiver raced down your spine at his praise and your fingers tangled in Jackâs hair, bracing yourself so you could bounce harder on his cock. Every thrust of his dick deep into your cunt was driving your pleasure higher, until your head was filled with clouds and your body was tingling, balancing on the precipice of your release.
âYes, yes, yes, your girl, your good girl,â you panted, your eyes heavy-lidded but still open as you watched Jackâs face, his skin flushed red, making his freckles stand out in stark relief. âPlease, chef, Iâm so closeâplease, I needâŠâ
Your words devolved into a moan as Jack took control of your body, changing the angle of your hips so your clit was grinding against the base of his cock. All you could do was gasp and whimper and whine and try to hold on to him while he helped you ride him.
âMy sweet girl, my perfect girl, my gorgeous girl,â Jack cooed, punctuating his words by pulling you down on his cock over and over and over again, making sure your clit rubbed against him with each thrust. âI know what my girl needsâcome for me, pretty girl. Wanna see you let go, wanna feel you come on my cock, baby, please.â
Jackâs words and the way he guided your body, helping you find your pleasure, were your undoing. Tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core until it suddenly snapped. You were sent tumbling over the edge of your release, every muscle in your body pulling taut before you exploded with a wailing cry, pleasure crashing through you in violent, euphoric waves.
A groan tore from Jackâs mouth and his arms tightened around your body. He held you crushed against his chest, moaning his own pleasure into your neck while his hips jerked between your thighs, fucking you through both your releases.
You clung on to him, your body writhing on top of his as you eked out every bit of bliss from each other, until the waves of your release began to recede. With a sated sigh, you collapsed against the older manâs shoulder, fingers raking idly through his hair while his hands stroked everywhere on your body he could reachâyour hips, your thighs, even down your calves and up your spine beneath your dress.
Between your thighs, you could feel his hot release beginning to leak from your hole, and you squirmed a little at the strange feeling of loss that settled in your gut. Jack pressed one of his palms to your lower back, urging you to settle on his lap, and you let yourself relax, reveling in the feeling of his softening cock still filling your pussy.
After giving you a few moments to recover, Jackâs fingers trailed down the side of your face where your head was laying on his shoulder. He curled a finger around your chin and tilted your head up enough so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.
âAlright, angel girl?â he asked softly, his voice so low and raspy, it sent little tingles dancing down your spine. You smiled against his mouth.
âSooo good,â you answered, your mouth quirking into a smirk as you continued. âOr should I say, âThank you, chef, that really hit the spotâ?â
Jack huffed a surprised laugh, squeezing you tight in his arms as he shook his head. âWhat am I gonna do with you, baby girl?â
It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jack that what he should do was take you back to his place and keep you forever. That thought was so surprisingâyouâd only known him for one night!âand felt so right, that instead of answering, you kissed him.
You could feel the smile on his lips before he kissed you back, and that little expression had you realizing just how fond youâd grown of the chef in such a short time. It was so astonishingly easy to picture yourself going home with Jack, sleeping in his bed, cuddled up in his arms, then having breakfast together in the morning.
The night had started with you not expecting much from your date. You thought maybe youâd hit it off and see him again, but you hadnât dared to have much hope.
And now, the night was ending with you kissing a different man, one youâd only just met, and wanting so much more with him. You wanted to get to know Jack Abbot and see if your initial compatibility and attraction could lead to something more.
For the first time in a long time, you had hope. It felt like everything that had happened earlier in the evening was fate conspiring to bring you and Jack togetherâand you were all too excited to see where things would go.
The best part, you realized, as Jack kissed you back, his mouth moving sensuously against yours, was that he seemed just as excited to get to know you, too. Heâd shown you nothing but green flags all night, and had even already asked to see you again. It felt like something close to magic to know that the man you liked, liked you back.
A smile fluttered at the corner of your mouth as you let yourself focus on kissing Jack, knowing thereâd be time to overthink everything later. For the time being, you wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with your chef, because you were certain it was the beginning of something beautiful.
For a long while, the two of you were making out just for the fun of it, for the enjoyment of being with each other, until Jackâs soft cock slipped from your body and made you shiver. He grabbed his leather jacket from where youâd tossed it on the counter and wrapped it around your shoulders, giving you one last kiss before he began to ease you off his lap.
âIâve got to clean up here,â he said, tucking his cock away and zipping up his jeans before he helped you straighten your dress, his eyes wandering shamelessly over your body, like he hadnât yet had his fill of worshipping you. âOnce Iâm done, I can take you home. Sound good, sweetheart?â
âThat depends,â you said, your fingers snagging in the hem of Jackâs white t-shirt, preventing him from moving too far away. You werenât usually the clingy type, but you couldnât bear to be away from him just yet. âAre you gonna take me back to my place, or yours?â
The older manâs gaze darkened and his hands settled on your hips, pulling you close again. Your arms wound instinctively around his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair in a way that already felt so comfortable and familiar.
âI was planning to take you to your home,â Jack began, a smirk curling his mouth when you pouted up at him from under your lashes. âBut if youâd like, I can take you back to mine.â His eyes softened as he looked at you, his smirk melting into a smile. âIâd love to cook you breakfast, sweetheart.â
The depth of the affection in Jackâs gaze and his words made you feel suddenly shy, and you ducked your head a little. âIâd like that,â you murmured, sneaking a peek at him and finding the chef grinning like heâd just won the lottery. It gave you the confidence to lift your head and give him a confident smirk. âBe careful, though, if you keep making me such delicious food, youâll never get rid of me.â
Something devilish flickered across Jackâs face and his smirk was all smug confidence as he swooped in and stole a kiss from your lips, leaving you breathless when he pulled away a moment later. âThatâs the plan, angel girlâIâm gonna keep you around any way I can until you get sick of me.â
You were already shaking your head before heâd even finished talking, your fingers tugging lightly, admonishingly, on his hair. âThatâll never happen,â you said, your tone more serious than youâd intended. But your honesty was rewarded with Jackâs mouth twisting into a smile and him kissing you again.
It was such a privilege, you realized, to be with someone who wanted you just as badly as you wanted themâwho liked you just as much as you liked them. From the moment youâd met him, Jack had made you feel safe, had taken care of you, had shown you that you were special simply for being you. And you hoped youâd done the same for him.
When Jack finally pulled away from the kiss, you whined a little, making him chuckle. âCâmon, baby girl, letâs clean up and go home,â he rumbled, kissing each of your cheeks, then your nose, before giving you one last kiss on your mouth.
His words and his sweet kisses had you smiling and giggling, and you nodded, your heart warm and light as you let Jack move away to begin cleaning up his workstation. As he did, you fetched your things from his office, turning off the light and closing the door.
By the time youâd returned, Jack was done, and he held his hand out for you to take. You did so happily, handing off your jacket and purse for him to carry when he offered.
Stepping out into the brisk, spring evening, a breeze sweeping through Pittsburgh and making you glad to have Jackâs jacket around your shoulders, you felt like you were leaving the little bubble you and the chef had created. But as you watched him lock up the back door of Night Shift, using only one hand so he could keep holding yours, you knew you didnât need that bubble.
You may have had to endure the date from hell to meet Jack Abbot, but it felt like fate had designed the night so that you ended up right where you were meant to beâwith the hot, older chef who looked at you with so much awe and affection, it made your heart pitter-patter in your chest.
Jack walked you to his car, pushing you gently against the passenger door to kiss you some more before he helped you into the seat. He held your hand as he drove you back to his place, kissing your knuckles every few minutes, then leaning across the center console to kiss your mouth after heâd parked in front of his house.
The two of you didnât talk much as you got ready for bed, but you didnât need to. A comfortable silence had fallen over you and Jack, and you didnât feel the need to fill it, especially with how tired you were. You changed into one of his t-shirts, brushed your teeth with the extra toothbrush he had on hand and cleaned your makeup off your face.
When you slipped into bed beside Jack, he was still massaging his leg, easing the pain heâd felt from wearing his prosthetic all night. You hoped heâd one day let you do that for himâhelp him to relieve the ache of the dayâs grind from his leg, his shoulders, and anywhere else that might pain him.
Before you could gather the courage to offer, though, Jack turned and slid under the sheets beside you. He wrapped you up in his arms, and both of you let out little sighs of contentment. You didnât know what exactly Jack was thinking, but you suspected it felt just as right to him as it did to you to be in his bed and in his arms.
You fell asleep knowing in your heart that you were right where you were meant to beâwith Jack Abbot.
thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
#yeah... I want chef jack abbot to make me breakfast too...#yanno AFTER he spent the night helping me work up an appetite đ€đ#absolutely amazing read!!#beautifully written#stunningly hot and sexy#funny sweet charming and fluffy as well! #I could hear all his inner thoughts and spoken dialogue in his sexy ass raspy voice and I am a legit puddle of goo...#like đ« đ« đ« #đ„â€ïžâđ„đ„”đŹ
ohhh chef Jack Abbot is making you breakfast, lunch, AND dinner all over again đ€ he's keeping you fed and very satisfied, especially on his days off hehehe
thank you for reading, i'm so glad you enjoyed!! âĄâĄâĄ
summary: when your already bad date takes a turn for the worse, the head chef of the restaurant comes to see what he can do to help. when he offers to give you a tour of the kitchen, you jump at the chance to escape, and your bad night turns into something else entirely.
warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), some verbal and physical abuse against reader during her date, reader sustains a minor injury (bruised wrist), some hurt/comfort, unspecified age gap, porn with feelings, kinda instalove, eventual smut, dry humping, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, big cock, cock warming, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, come eating, marking/hickeys, sorta scent kink, dirty talk, chef kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby), aftercare, happy ending
word count: 26.0k
a/n: it's finally hereeeee!!! i've been working on nothing else but this fic for the last month and it's finally done đźâđšđ it was inspired by Shawn Hatosy's Quinn audio (although i haven't actually listened to it yet). i just had to write something for chef!Jack Abbot, and i'm really happy with how this turned out! it feels almost like a smutty little romance novella, which i think is cool. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!
if you'd rather read the fic broken down into chapters, check it out on AO3
âHey, chef.â
With just those two words, Jack Abbot knew his night was about to take a turn for the worse. Nothing good could come from the underlying urgency and overt hesitance in the voice of one of his servers, Nazely Toomarian.
But Jack also knew, from his years as head chef and owner of one of Pittsburghâs most popular fine dining restaurants, Night Shift, that it wasnât Nazelyâs fault. No, it was very likely to be one of the insufferable guests who frequented his restaurant who ruined his night.
So Jack swallowed his sigh, kept stirring the sauce of that nightâs special, and glanced at his server, giving her a nod to go on.
âWeâve got a situation in the dining room.â
Of course they did.
Jack finally let loose the sigh that had been building between his ribs, wondering distractedly if the situation was some jagoff businessmanâs card declining, an impossible-to-please socialite sending every bite of her food back, or if another influencer was insisting on getting their meal comped in exchange for free publicity on their Instagram or TikTok or whatever.
Jack knew he was old and out of touchâthat was why heâd hired one of the daytime servers, Victoria Javadi, to run the restaurantâs social mediaâbut he also knew a scam when he saw it. Someone who genuinely wanted to work with him asked about partnership deals before eating an entire meal they expected to be free.
Grumbling about influencers under his breath, Jack gave the sauce on the stove one last stir, adding a little more salt, then handed the wooden spoon off to his sous chef, John Shen. Quickly, but methodically, Jack took off his gloves, turned to Nazely, and tucked his arms behind his backâa remnant from his days in the army.
âWhat kind of a situation?â Jack asked, his voice calm and measured even as he was already preparing himself for the worst.
The chef listened attentively as his server explained what had brought her back into the kitchen with that concerned look in her eyes. The frown on Jackâs face deepened the more he heard about the date going decidedly bad in his dining room.
Finally, Nazely finished up her story with a breathless, âDo you want me to have security handle it?â
Jack knew it was the easiest solution, to call security and have them escort the man creating the situation out of the restaurant. But it would cause a scene, and everyone else in the packed restaurant would be talking more about what had happened than his food.
It would be better for Night Shiftâs business if Jack could remedy the situation himself, as quietly as possible.
Instead of answering his serverâs question, Jack walked to the double swinging doors that led out to the dining room. He peered through the window, feeling a bit like a king overlooking his kingdom, and he had a sudden, fierce impulse to protect it.
âWhich table was it?â Jack asked, glancing back at Nazely, whoâd followed him to the doors.
âTable 12,â she answered quickly.
Jack looked out across the sea of glamorous guests dining in his restaurant, a swell of pride in his heart when he saw beyond the expensive clothes and glitzy jewelry to the smiles and laughter of people enjoying his food. In his heart of hearts, Jack just wanted to make food people liked eating, and it never failed to overwhelm him when he got a chance to see the delight he brought to complete strangers whoâd entrusted their time and money to him.
Pushing those thoughts and feelings aside for the moment, Jack focused back on the room, his eyes tracking along the tables until he found the one Nazely had indicated. For the first time in a long time, Jack Abbotâs heart skipped a beat and he froze at the sight in front of him.
The first thing about you that rendered Jack speechless was your mouth, the curve of your lips, the tension around the edges as you hid a frown behind a sip of wine. Jack knew, instinctively, that your lips would look gorgeous when you smiled, that your mouth would look exquisite while eating his foodâand he knew, too, that heâd do anything to make you smile, to feed you, to take care of you.
Jack shook his head at those thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the situation Nazely had told him about, the date going irreparably sideways.
Still, the chef couldnât help but rake his eyes over you, telling himself he was simply assessing how much distress you were in. Jack noted the stiffness in your shoulders, how you were curling in on yourself slightly, like your body was trying to protect itself. He also noticed the pretty color of your eyes, the curve of your cheekbones, the sweep of your dress at it fell across your thighs.
You were beautiful, enchanting in a way Jack hadnât experienced in a long, long timeâand you were miserable. That much was clear from your body language and the way you regarded your date with no small amount of disgust and fear deep in your pretty eyes.
Finally, the chef dragged his gaze across your table to your date.
Immediately, Jack didnât like the arrogant slant of the manâs shoulders, the imperious tilt of his chin, or the pompous way he held his glass as he spoke and drank. Even the way the man took a sip of wine, smacking his lips before resuming his tirade where heâd left off, made anger coil like a poised predator in Jackâs gut.
Something shifted in the man, and Jack looked back at you, seeing indignant rage boiling beneath the surface of your expression. Jack watched you say something through bared teeth, hissing at your date like you were trying not to make a scene.
Your hands were braced against the edge of the table, and you pushed to standâbut then your date moved to stop you, grabbing your wrist, and something in Jack snapped.
Later, heâd tell himself he wouldâve had the same reaction if any man had put his hands on a woman in his restaurant. But in that moment, he was driven almost entirely by the edge of something else threaded through the fury in his chestâsomething greedy and selfish that you, and only you, had inspired in him.
âIâll handle this myself,â Jack growled, tossing the words over his shoulder at Nazely without taking his eyes off where your dateâs hand was still wrapped around your wrist, holding you chained to the table like a misbehaving pet.
All Jack could think, as he strode across the dining room, his chest churning with wrath and violence, was that it was a good thing he didnât have a knife in his hand.
You were on the date from hell.
And the worst part? You werenât even sure when everything had gone wrong.
Was it when youâd let your coworker set you up with her boyfriendâs best friend, a man named Curtis Larsen?
Was it when youâd gotten your hopes up and donned your favorite dressâthe black fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places and showing off your legsâonly for Curtis not to say a word when he picked you up from your office building in downtown Pittsburgh?
Was it when you decided you could put up with his pretentious posturing about his job and his golf game to enjoy one night at Night Shift, the restaurant youâd always wanted to try but could never afford?
Hiding a sigh by taking a sip of your wineâa bitter red youâd never have ordered for yourselfâyou decided that was probably when things had gone wrong.
From the moment youâd gotten into Curtisâs car, heâd been nothing but insufferable. You shouldâve left before walking into the restaurant, but youâd heard such good things about Night Shift, and its head chef Jack Abbot, that youâd ignored your instincts and soldiered on.
You were rewarded for your selfishness by watching Curtis talk down to everyone he came acrossâthe hostess, who sat you in the middle of the dining room only for Curtis to complain you werenât in one of the booths; the server, who tried to recite the nightâs specials only to be interrupted by Curtis asking about a specific dish; the sommelier, who had to put up with Curtis acting like he knew more about wine than the man whose job it was.
It was all you could do to offer the restaurant workers apologetic smiles and slip them some money from your own purse when Curtis wasnât looking. You tried to grin and bear it, to soak up the ambience of the restaurant despite the black hole of unearned smugness sitting across from you.
Truthfully, Night Shift was spectacular enough to almost distract you from your horrible date and everything that was wrong with him.
The space was decorated in rich, emerald greens and dark, roughhewn wood, with real, lustrous plants and other greenery breaking up the dining room to give each table a pretense of privacy. Warm candles and low lighting gave the restaurant an intimate atmosphere, even while it was packed full.
All told, Night Shift was the perfect place for a date. It was too bad you were there with a man who mightâve been worse than the devil.
You were hiding another frown behind a sip of your disgusting wine when Curtis launched into a tirade about how the woman heâd marry should have a respectable job and make a good salaryâand sheâd also be responsible for keeping his house clean and taking care of his kids.
It took all of your self-control to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You werenât exactly surprisedâyouâd been set up with enough financial analysts like Curtis to know a lot of them were useless assholes who wanted a mommy more than a wife. But you could feel your desire to put up with the date for the sake of trying Night Shiftâs food slipping away, and you hadnât even ordered your appetizers yet.
Resolving to treat yourself to a dinner at Night Shift for your next birthday, you interrupted Curtisâs egotistical diatribe about modern women and tried to politely excuse yourself. You were kinder than you thought he deserved when you told him you didnât think the two of you were a good fit and it would save you both some time to cut the date short.
But Curtisâs eyes flashed in a way that had fear suddenly bursting in your gut, and his expression turned mean as he leaned forward across the small table, invading your space.
âThe date isnât over until I say itâs over,â Curtis said, his voice so cold, you froze in your seat. âYouâre not going anywhere.â
For a moment, you sat in your seat in surprise. Youâd been on some bad dates, and while some of the men had reacted badly when youâd left early, none of them had scared you the way Curtis was. There was something so aggressive about the way he spoke, and it was then that you noticed a strange haze in his eyes.
Was he⊠high?
Thankfully, a sever mustâve caught Curtisâs words, or his tone of voice, because she came over to check on you. Her brown eyes were sharp, but kind as they stayed fixed on you, asking if everything was okay.
âWeâre fine,â you told her weakly, giving her the most reassuring smile you could offer while silently begging her to help you somehow. You didnât want to make a scene, and you were sure the restaurant didnât want that either, but you would if you needed to.
Thatâs what you hoped to convey, and you thought the server mightâve understood because she gave a firm nod and headed off with a determined spring in her step. You saw her walk quickly toward the kitchen before your attention was diverted by Curtis.
âYou better not embarrass me in front of the staff,â Curtis was saying, clutching his wine glass a little too tight and swirling the liquid enough that you worried heâd spill some on the expensive decor. âI bring a lot of high-profile clients here, I canât have you leaving earlyâyou know how people like them talk.â
The fear youâd felt melted away in the face of indignant anger on behalf of the restaurant staffâwho Curtis had treated like garbage since heâd walked in. It was a miracle he was even allowed in the doors after what youâd seen that evening.
âWhat kind of people is that exactly?â you asked, quiet fury lacing your voice. You could put up with the indignity of being ordered around by your date, but you wouldnât sit by and listen to him disparage the people whoâd only tried to help the two of you that evening.
Curtis clearly didnât hear the warning in your tone, because he gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, gesturing thoughtlessly with his hand holding his wine. Some sloshed over the edge, spilling on the floor.
âYou know, low-class people.â
There was so much casual disdain dripping from his voice, you had to wonder, if Curtis was such a regular at Night Shift, why hadnât the sommelier poisoned him alreadyâitâs not like the world wouldnât be better off without your date, who was somehow still talking.
âThe type of people too poor to get a real jobâlike us,â Curtis said, fixing you with what he clearly thought was a winning smile. It did not make him look like a winner.
At the implication that you were anything like Curtis, your stomach roiled unpleasantly, and you were suddenly afraid that what little wine youâd drank was about to come back up.
That was it, youâd officially reached the end of your patience. You didnât care if it caused a scene, you couldnât spend another moment in this manâs presence without vomiting.
âYouâre a small-dicked, pathetic excuse for a man, Curtis Larsen,â you hissed at him, trying to keep your fury in check as you braced your hands against the edge of the table and moved to stand. âAnd I would fuck every one of the people who worked here before I let you anywhere near me ââ
As you pushed yourself up from the table, Curtis reached for you quicker than you wouldâve expected, snatching your wrist in his big, meaty hand. He yanked on your arm hard enough that you sat back down, biting back a cry as a jolt of pain shot through your shoulder.
âDonât you dare fucking try to leave,â Curtis snarled, his face contorted into an ugly mask of rage. It was clearer, in that moment, that he was high. It was making him more aggressive, so even when you tried to pull free of his grasp, he held on tighter, hurting you even more.
Just then, movement over Curtisâs shoulder caught your attention and your gaze snagged on a man pushing through the door to the kitchen, an air of violence and vengeance about him that made your heart leap in hope. He carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence weak-willed men like Curtis could only dream of, and he was heading straight for your table.
In the brief time it took the man to make his way through the dining room, you took stock of his appearance. The first thing you noticed was how handsome he was. Silvery, steel gray curls were swept back from his face, giving you a clear view of his sharp, hazel eyes, straight nose and a soft mouth bracketed by short stubble.
The man was clearly older than you, in his 50s, but he looked competent and put together in a way that had your belly swooping as your eyes raked down his body. A plain white t-shirt stretched around his bulging biceps, freckles dusted down his tanned, weathered arms. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were accentuated by the brown apron hanging from his neck.
Something about the man looked familiar, like youâd seen him somewhere before, but between the pain in your wrist, the fear inspired by Curtisâs aggressive change in mood, and the sudden attraction you felt toward the handsome chef, you couldnât place him.
At least, not until you looked back at his face and saw the intent determination in his expression. It was the same exceedingly hot look heâd been wearing in the photos youâd seenâthe ones in the article about Night Shift and its chef-slash-owner.
You realized, with sudden clarity, two very important things: The man approaching your table was the restaurantâs owner and world-renowned head chef, Jack Abbot. And he looked furious enough about the way Curtis was still holding on to you that he was liable to murder your date.
Jack Abbot could not kill a restaurant guest.
He could not. No matter how much that guest might deserve it for putting his filthy fucking hands on a woman in his restaurant. No matter how much Jack wanted to rip this guyâs head off for daring to touch someone as sweet-looking as you.
He could not kill a guest. He could not kill a guest.
Those words were a refrain playing in his head as he made his way to your table, the one with the situation Nazely had told him aboutâa situation that had clearly escalated to physical. Because your date had put his hand on you and all Jack could think about was murder.
He hated the way this pompous asshole was holding your wrist tight enough that it looked painful, though your face was a stony mask like you refused to give the guy the satisfaction of showing him heâd hurt you. And Jack especially hated the fact that heâd stupidly left his knife in the kitchen, so he couldnât cut off the guestâs hand for the crime of touching you with so much violence.
Jack was nearly at the table when he heard your date talking, and he immediately recognized the smarmy voice of Night Shiftâs #1 worst regular: Curtis Larsen.
In that moment, Jack knew he shouldâve banned the guy after the last time he came in, when heâd terrorized the staff and tipped basically nothing for their efforts. Well, that was a mistake Jack was going to rectify immediately, once he got you away from the shithead.
So focused on his thoughts, and trying to quell his inclination toward murder, Jack didnât fully register what Curtis was saying until he was right next to the table.
ââDidnât take you for such a cheap whoreââ
Any possibility of Jack politely interrupting Curtis went out the window when he heard those words. What came out of him instead was: âSir, you need to shut your fucking mouth.â
Jack was louder than heâd meant to be, making you gasp softly. His gaze found you, wanting to make sure he hadnât scared you, and he ended up getting lost in your eyes. They were bright and smart, and watching him with such a keen interest, it made Jack feel 20 years younger.
It was then that Jack really looked at you, and he realized just how young you were. Not young enough to make him feel like a complete creep, but⊠young enough to make him feel at least a little bit like a creep.
Especially when he raked his eyes down your bodyâtelling himself he was just checking to make sure you were okayâand he couldnât help but notice the way your dress clung to your curves, taunting him with how high the hem rode up your thigh. Your bare legs were a tease beneath the tablecloth, and Jack wondered if your skin felt as soft as it lookedâŠ
Reminding himself that you needed help, not to be ogled by a creepy older man, Jack shook himself free of the spell youâd cast on him with your wide, trusting eyes and your pretty, tempting curves. He turned to Curtis, giving the man his most fearsome glower, the one that kept the most unruly of restaurant guests in line.
âAnd keep your fucking hands to yourself,â Jack growled, making a point of looking down at where Curtisâs hand was still holding your wrist before returning his gaze to the manâs face. âOr do I need to teach you a lesson about putting your hands on woman without her consent?â
Jack knew he sounded dangerousâunhinged, probablyâbut he couldnât bring himself to care, not when his thinly veiled threat did the trick and Curtis let go of you like he was dropping a hot pan.
Something settled in Jackâs chest, and he felt soothed knowing he hadnât even needed to resort to violence to save you from Curtis. But that feeling quickly shriveled as Jack watched you bring your hand to our chest and cradle your wrist.
He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to wrap you up in his arms and tell you no one would ever hurt you again. Not on his watch. But somehow, Jack managed to keep his hands tucked behind his back, even as the tips of his fingers prickled with the desire to touch you, to soothe you.
Those thoughts and urges were troubling enough, but then you lifted your eyes and gave Curtis a withering look that had the other man cowering almost as much as he had under Jackâs glare. The chef felt a threat of pride weave through his heart.
Jack could see your strength, your resilience, and he knew in that moment that you could take care of yourself. You couldâve freed yourself from Curtisâs hold, you hadnât needed saving, but that only made Jack want to whisk you away all the more. He wanted to take care of you in a way heâd never felt before.
Biting back a sigh at himself, Jack realized one very important thing: He was a goner for you. Already. Even though he didnât even know your name.
Unable and unwilling to stop himself from acting selfishly, Jack held a hand out to you, giving you a soft, encouraging smile and nodding toward your hurt wrist.
âMy nameâs Jack, I own this restaurant. Can I take a look, sweetheart?â he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it, a low, raspy rumble that he hoped felt like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. âI used to be a medic in the army.â
It made Jackâs heart soar when you looked at him for a moment, like you were taking his measure, and decided you could trust him. Your fingers were soft and a little cold as they slipped into Jackâs plam, his own hand closing reflexively around them to warm you up.
Carefully, Jack turned your wrist one way, then the other, bending low over your hand to examine whether it was injured. All the while, he kept an eye on your face, watching for any wince or twinge in your expression to indicate he was hurting you.
Thankfullyâfor you, for Jack, and most especially for your dateâit didnât look like Curtis had done any real damage.
âNo sprain, just some bruising,â Jack said, giving your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze and lifting his gaze to yours. He nearly lost himself in the admiration and gratefulness in your eyes, but managed to continue. âI have some ibuprofen in my office.â
Your eyes widened a little in surprise, and Jack was forced to endure the torment of watching you nibble on your lower lip while uncertainty filled your expression. He understood your reticence to trust a man so soon after another had hurt you, so Jack tried to put you at ease.
âWhaddya say, sweetheart, do you want the kitchen tour?â
Jack shot you a cheesy, hopefully charming wink, and when you let out a soft giggle, shaking your head at him like you couldnât believe how corny he was, he felt like he was flying. He felt like he could soar above all of Pittsburgh with only the confidence he earned from making you laugh.
âThat would be nice,â you said, looking up at him from under your lashes. Jack was immediately entranced by your voice, by the way your lips moved as you spoke. âThank you, chef.â
It did absurdly wild things to Jackâs heart, which was already beating a fast, staccato rhythm in his chest, to hear you call him âchefâ. It shouldnât have affected him so much, it was a title he heard about a hundred times a night from dozens of other people.
But hearing it from your pretty mouth made Jack feel like it was a badge of honor, and he was glad to have earned it.
Distracted by thinking of ways to get you to call him âchefâ some more, it wasnât until you clutched his fingers more tightly that he remembered heâd intended to get you away from Curtis as quickly as possible. Using it as an excuse to keep holding your hand, Jack helped you to stand up.
When he was sure you were steady on your feet, after wobbling for a moment in your heels, Jack nodded to your chair and said, âGrab your things, angel. You wonât be coming back.â
Even though Jack was leaning into you when he said it, Curtis mustâve caught the words because his expression turned from icy resignation to red-hot fury as he pushed himself to stand. But Jack was quicker, putting himself between you and your former date, growling at the younger man before he could fully stand up.
âSit down, sir.â
A stunned Curtis plopped back into his chair. Jack raised his chin, staring down his nose at the other man while he tucked his hands behind his back, standing guard between you and your former date. Images of knives began dancing in Jackâs head, and he let it fuel the anger in his expression to keep Curtis in check.
Jack could sense you moving around behind him. Youâd dropped his hand when youâd turned to grab your jacket and purse, but you mustâve been done because you slipped your fingers back into his palm.
You grasped his hand tentatively, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, his heart soaring in his chest even as he continued glaring at the man at the table, who looked riotous at the thought of Jack stealing you away.
âYou canât do this,â Curtis snarled, trying to puff up his chest and make himself look big, even as he remained sitting in his seat, too much a coward to actually challenge Jackâs authority.
The chef responded to the other manâs posturing by looming over him, an unkind smile on his face. Jack was more than a little satisfied by the way Curtis cowered, just a little, in his seat.
âThis is my fucking restaurant,â Jack said, his voice even but ruthless. âSo let me tell you how this is going to go.â Jack kept your hand tucked in his, holding you behind him while he dealt with your ex-date. âYouâre going to pay your bill, leave your server a generous tip, and then youâre never going to step foot in here again. Do you get me?â
Jack watched emotions flit across the younger manâs faceâsurprise, frustration, indignation, furyâand he could practically feel the temper tantrum brewing, like a storm rolling in. But he could also smell the booze on him and, if Jack wasnât mistaken, he could see the telltale signs Curtis had been indulging in more than wine.
Night Shift really didnât need the scene or the paperwork that would come along with the temper tantrum, which would inevitably lead to someone calling the cops. So Jack went in for the metaphorical kill.
âIf I ever see your face in here again,â Jack said, lowering his voice even more so only you and Curtis could hear him. âYouâre going to pay for putting your hands on a woman in my restaurantâand Iâll take that payment with my knife.â
Jack watched as Curtis blanched, his tanned skin going ghostly pale as all the fight drained out of him at the threat of actual violence. The younger manâs gaze finally fell to the table, and Jack knew he wasnât going to challenge him again.
It was completely unhinged to threaten Curtis like that, he knew that, but all Jack worried about was that heâd scared you. When he turned to check on you, though, he found you staring at him with so much admiration, Jack wanted to puff up his own chest and take on every asshole whoâd ever wronged you.
You took a careful step closer to Jack, looking at him with those wide eyes, a smirk flirting around the edges of your pretty mouth, and wrapped your other hand around his bicep. âThank you,â you murmured for only him to hear, and Jack offered you an answering smile.
âReady to go, sweetheart?â he asked charmingly, squeezing your hand gently.
Your smirk bloomed into a full-blown grin, and he caught the edge of excitement in your expression, making Jackâs heart thump harder in his chest. He could hardly believe someone as young and beautiful and strong as you wanted to go anywhere with him. Not only did you look like you wanted it, you looked eager for it.
âYes, please, chef,â you purred, the sound of your voice calling him âchefâ again going straight to his dick.
Oh yeah, Jack was definitely a goner for you.
You could hardly believe how drastically the course of your night had changed in just a few minutes.
Youâd gone from being on the absolute worst date of your life, trying to figure out how you were going to get away from the man whoâd accosted you, to being on the arm of one of the most talentedâand handsomeâhead chefs in all of Pittsburgh.
Jack Abbotâs hand was warm and strong in yours, his stride steady and determined as he led you through the dining room toward the kitchen. His presence at your side helped to settle the wobbliness you felt in the wake of the fear and adrenaline that had rushed through you when Curtis had grabbed you.
Leaning further into Jackâs side, you got a hint of his scentâfresh laundry something earthy, like sage or rosemaryâand you let it stoke the little ember of interest that burned deep your core, the one that had flared to life when you watched the chef put your date in his place.
What did it say about you that you thought it was inexplicably hot the way Jack had threatened Curtis with his knife? What did it say about you that you felt safer with Jack than you had with any man youâd ever gone out with?
With those questions rattling around in your head, you were glad that Jack didnât try to make conversation beyond asking for your name as he guided you to the kitchen. He seemed to understand you needed a moment to process everything thatâd happened, and he remained quiet as the two of you walked together through the crowded dining room, the soft chatter of the other diners filling the silence so it wasnât awkward.
When Jack pushed through the double swinging doors to the kitchen, the gentle murmur of the restaurantâs dining room gave away to the chaos of the kitchen. Immediately, you felt the buzzy, almost electric energy, of the staff, and you took your first full breath since youâd walked into Night Shift, something about the kitchen making you feel like you were coming home.
Your eyes were opened wide as you looked around because there was so much to take inâa whole army of chefs and cooks moved around the silver metal tables and big, gas range stoves, grabbing things out of fridges, chopping vegetables and searing meat. It was like a masterfully choreographed dance, the way everyone moved around each other.
And it smelled divine. Herbs and spices and so many other scents filled your nose, making your mouth water and your stomach grumble, though there was no way anyone could hear it over the noiseâthe clatter of knives and pans, the people calling out orders, the slamming of fridge doors.
Everything seemed to revolve around on particular chef, an Asian man spooning some sauce onto a plate and conferring with a Black woman. He was the calm in the center of the storm, obviously running things while Jack had been dealing with your date.
The head chef himself tugged you to the side of the room, pulling you out of the way of the steady stream of servers coming in and out of the double doors, carrying big trays filled with all kinds of dishesâsalads and seafood, pasta and chicken. All of it smelled amazing, looked amazing, and it was all you could do to stare around the kitchen with awe no doubt written plainly on your face.
Gradually, you became aware of Jackâs gaze on your face, and when you looked at the chef, you found him watching you closely, so much intensity in his hazel eyes, it made you feel a little shy. Here was this older, accomplished chef, and he was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in his entire kitchenâhis entire restaurant.
You offered him a tentative smile, your heart skipping a beat when he towed you just a little closer by your still clasped hands.
âWhat do you think, sweetheart?â Jack asked, and you could tell by the tenor of his voice that he actually cared about your answer. He sounded worried, hopeful, and so achingly interested that it made you unsteady on your feet.
âI think itâs amazing,â you answered honestly, your voice more than a little breathless with wonder. You leaned further into his side, staring into his eyes and getting a little lost in them. âEverything looks and smells delicious, chef.â
A small, pleased smile curved Jackâs mouth, even as his eyes darkened at what youâd called him. It stole the breath from your lungs, the knowledge that you could affect him so clearly just by calling him âchefâ. It made you want to say it more, to say it while his mouth was on your body, just to see if you could drive him wildâŠ
Tension crackled between the two of you, sharp and electric, sucking all the oxygen out of the room so it became a little hard to breathe normally. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your legs trembled, and still, you couldnât tear your eyes away from Jack, your gaze drifting down to his mouth and the silvery stubble that surrounded it.
âJack?â you murmured his name softly, a question in the single syllable, as you raised your eyes back to his. There was an answer in his gaze, in the way his own eyes dropped to your lips and back up, like he was fighting the same urge as you.
âEverything good, chef?â
You and Jack jumped apart, your hands disentangling as you put a respectable amount of space between your bodies. You watched Jack straighten, his expression shifting into something much more professional, much more appropriate for his workplace, as he turned to the room.
âGimme a few more minutes, chef,â Jack called back to the Asian man whoâd addressed him. You got the sense that the man was amused by the two of you, even though his face remained unreadable. âIâll be back to dig you out of the hole of the dinner rush.â
The man who mustâve been Jackâs sous chef huffed a laugh and, without looking up from the dish he was plating, said, âDonât worry about us, old man. Weâve got this.â
âWhoâs he calling old?â Jack muttered under his breath, making a laugh burst from your lips at how disgruntled he sounded. A smirk flickered at the edge of Jackâs mouth, like he couldnât help himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement, and he leaned closer to you. âDo you think Iâm old, angel?â
Jackâs voice was little more than a rasp, and you swore that you could feel it skim down your spine and settle deep in your core, where heat was blooming hotter. All you could do was stare at Jack, at the weathered lines of his freckled face, and the silver curls that you wanted to run your fingers through, as you tried to think of something to say.
A little lop-sided smile tilted Jackâs mouth, like he could somehow see the odd mixture of awe and lust swirling in your body, in your brain, making you tongue-tiedâand he didnât hold it against you. âDonât answer that,â he grumbled good-naturedly, his eyes still fixed on your face.
The two of you hung suspended in that moment for longer than was strictly necessary, the hustle and bustle of the kitchen fading away, until you finally remembered how to speak. Though once the words came out of your mouth, you wished youâd stayed silent.
âI donât think youâre too old.â
That statement got Jackâs attention in a way you hadnât experienced in all the short time youâd been in his presence. His eyes darkened, dropping to your lips once again before dragging their way back to meet your gaze. A charming grin made his mouth look far too tempting.
âToo old for what, angel?â Jack asked innocently, a hint of playful teasing in his tone that had your body burning hotter. His dark hazel eyes were knowingâlike he knew what you really meant to say, that you didnât think he was too old for you.
But you couldnât say that, couldnât answer him. You already felt like youâd said too much, and there were too many emotions still swirling around in your chest, in your belly, between your thighs, to make sense of any of them.
Thankfully, Jack seemed to understand you were overwhelmed and he didnât push it. Instead, he pressed a hand to your lower back, the heat of his palm scorching through the thin fabric of your dress, even in the warmth of the kitchen. He guided you gently to a narrow doorway tucked into the corner of the kitchen you hadnât noticed before.
Jack led you into a small office that you knew immediately was his. The space was nice and neat, just like his kitchen, with homey touches that reflected the dining room of his restaurant with emerald green walls and a dark wooden desk, which held a few framed photos and other keepsakes alongside his paperwork and computer.
Also, it smelled like himâfresh and clean, with just a hint of garlic and sage.
The room was small, barely big enough for a desk, chair and a couple of filing cabinets, but it was cozy, and you felt just as safe in Jackâs office as you did in his presence. Being away from the loud clamor of the kitchen also helped to settle your nerves and, without being invited to, you sank into the chair, leaving Jack to lean against the edge of his desk.
âHowâre you holding up, sweetheart?â Jack asked gently, crossing his arms over his chest and ducking down to catch your eye. You gave him a weary smile.
âIâm ok,â you said, then paused to take stock of yourself to see if that was really true. âA little shaken, a lot hungry,â your smile tured rueful. âI was really looking forward to trying your food,â you told him, dropping your gaze to where your hands were twisted together in your lap. âBut we didnât even make it to the appetizers.â
Jack shifted closer to you, his knee nudging lightly against yours, and you felt a little zing of happiness at even that small touch. You almost huffed a laugh at yourself for the silly crush you were developing on the hot, older chef, but managed to bite it back and looked up at the man whoâd so gently gotten your attention.
âIf you want to go home, I can have security escort you out back,â Jack started, his mouth twisting into the vague impression of a frown, like he didnât particularly like that idea. âOr, if you want, you can hang out in here, I can make you something to eat, and then later, I can give you that kitchen tour.â
He shot you another one of those exaggerated winks and you couldnât help but giggle softly. Jack was charming and he knew it, and if you werenât careful, you were definitely going to develop a big olâ crush on the man. He made it too easy to feel comfortable around him.
âItâs your choice, sweetheart,â Jack said, pausing for a moment like he wasnât sure if he should go on, but then he did. âI do hope youâll let me cook for you, though.â He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against the edge of your jaw, his touch so light you could barely feel it. âI donât like the idea of sending you home hungry.â
Before you could lean into Jackâs hand, he snatched it back, like he was worried heâd crossed a line. He crossed his arms more tightly across his chest, his hands tucked away as if he was worried they couldnât be trusted not to touch you again, and you had to smile.
Maybe it wasnât the worst idea in the world to develop a crush on the hot, older chef whoâd saved you from the worst date of your lifeâespecially since it seemed like the hot, older chef was having trouble keeping his gentle hands off you.
âIâd like to stay,â you murmured, looking up at Jack from under your lashes.
Almost against your will, your body swayed closer to the charming chef, your hand reaching out to wrap around his forearm. The light dusting of Jackâs hair tickled your fingers, and you couldnât help but notice how strong and firm his arm was beneath your palm.
Your lips quirked into a small smile, putting a little flirty edge on your words as you said, âIf you donât mind, chef.â
Jackâs eyes were dark, liquid heat as he stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered wildly if he might kiss you. The thought had excitement fluttering to life in your belly, but before you could get your hopes up too high, Jack swallowed and looked away. It was only then that you noticed the faint flush pinkening his cheeks.
âMake yourself comfortable, sweetheart,â Jack said, pushing away from the desk and stepping toward the door. âIbuprofenâs in the top drawer.â
The movement had your hand dropping from his arm and you immediately missed the warmth of his skin. When he looked back at you, he mustâve caught something on your face, something that had him cracking a small smile.
âIâll be back soon, alright?â His voice was a little rough, teasing your body with its low tenor, but you managed a smile and a nod.
âIâll be here,â you said, as brightly as you could. âThank you, Jack.â
Jack looked at you another moment, his eyes going a little soft, before he ducked through the office door. He pulled it most of the way closed behind him, leaving it open just a crack, somehow knowing you wanted some peace, but not to be cut off from the kitchenâfrom himâentirely.
Left alone to your own devices, you only had your own thoughts as company. You knew your brain wanted to spiral about your dateâWhy hadnât you seen the red flags from Curtis earlier? Why hadnât you cut the date short sooner?âbut instead you focused on what was in front of you.
Tossing your purse and jacket onto the desk, you got comfortable in Jackâs chair, leaning back and noticing a leather jacket thrown over the back. Shooting a quick glance at the door to make sure no one could see in, you tucked your face into the collar and breathed in, a smile curving your lips as you inhaled Jackâs clean, earthy scent.
Once youâd had your fillâor, rather, once your shame caught up with you and you forced yourself to stop sniffing the hot, older chefâs jacket like a mindless hussyâyou let your eyes roam around the room, taking in the almost military precision of the organization in the office.
The desk was mostly clear, save for the keyboard attached to his computer monitor, and a stack of order forms for things for the restaurant. There were also the photos and keepsakes. You picked them up one by one, looking closely at the people and things Jack cared about, not bothering to feel bad about your nosiness.
The first photo was of Jack and his whole kitchen crew at the opening of Night Shift, looking worn out but exultant in their success. Another photo depicted Jack with a man about his age, tall with brown hair and a salt and pepper beard, standing next to a motorcycle. They had their arms slung around each other like they were old friends.
Next, your fingers trailed over a medal of honor that was tucked into a corner of the desk. It was purple and gold, in the shape of a heart with a manâs side profile in the center. You remembered Jackâs comment about being in the army and wondered what had earned him the medal.
Feeling like youâd possibly overstepped, you set the medal back in its place on Jackâs desk and focused on finding the ibuprofen. After taking the pills with the glass of water heâd grabbed for you from the kitchen, you snuggled deeper into his chair, your head falling back against the collar of the chefâs leather jacket.
It occurred to you suddenly that you really liked Jack Abbot. You hadnât known him for long, and you didnât know all that much about him, but you wanted to.
You wanted to know why heâd named his restaurant Night Shift, and why heâd become a chef after being a medic in the army. You wanted to know what his favorite thing to cook was, and whether he needed readers to read texts on his phone.
You wanted to know if he was going to ask you for your number.
That thought made you stop and smile as you considered what youâd do if Jack asked for you number and actually used it. Your fingers played idly with the soft, supple leather of his jacket, letting the sounds of the kitchen lull you into deeper comfort as you imagined what it would be like to date world-renowned chef Jack Abbot.
You suspected it would be a helluva lot better than going on a date with Curtis Larsen, that was for sure.
Jack Abbot could not be interested in the young, pretty restaurant guest heâd saved from a bad date.
He paused just outside the door to his office, trying to get his head on straight, but all he could think about was the way youâd looked at him, like you were attracted to him, like you trusted him to take care of you. His fingers flexed at his side, and he could still feel the softness of your skin beneath his grazing touchâso pretty, so tempting.
His mind was consumed with the sweetness of your scent filling his office, invading his private space, and how much that pleased him. Jack already knew that scent would haunt him for the rest of the evening, that heâd fall asleep just to dream of you.
Wiping a hand down his face, Jack felt like a creep for even thinking about how you smelled, how your hand felt like a perfect fit in his own, how he wanted you to look at him with nothing but lust in your eyes. He was supposed to be helping you, taking care of you, making sure you got home safe, not thinking about what itâd feel like to put his hands on your body and pull you closeâŠ
With a hard shake of his head, Jack refocused on the task at handâmaking you something to eatâand strode back into the kitchen. He walked up to stand beside his sous chef, who was busy plating a whole tray of that nightâs special. John didnât even look up as Jack approached.
âHow are things looking?â Jack asked, busying his hands by retying the strings of his apron while he took a look at the line of orders still needing to be made. It was a busy Friday night at Night Shift, but his sous chef was keeping on top of things.
âDonât worry about us, chef, we got this,â John said, before raising his voice and calling out to the rest of the kitchen staff. âDonât we, nightcrawlers?â
âHoo-rah!â came the answering reply and Jack had to twist his lips to the side to hide the proud smile that wanted to break through. Annoyingly, John noticed.
âSeriously,â John said, straightening up and setting the last of the plates onto a tray for a server to take them out into the dining room. He turned to Jack. âIâve got this under control, if thereâs somewhere else youâd rather be.â
Johnâs eyes drifted over Jackâs shoulder in the direction of the office before returning his gaze to the head chef and waggling his brows a little.
âI wonât take it personally if thereâs someone else youâd rather be with than me,â the sous chef quipped, grabbing his Dunkinâ Donuts iced coffee from the shelf over the worktable and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.
âItâs not like that,â Jack grumbled, hoping to nip that thread of conversation in the bud before it began. The last thing he needed was for his business with you to get around the kitchen. Everyone who worked at Night Shift were talented, good people, but they gossiped more than little old ladies.
Jack tugged on some black nitrile gloves and grabbed a knife and cutting board. But when he returned to his station with the ingredients heâd need for what he planned to cook you for dinner, John was giving him a skeptical look.
âRight,â John said, not dropping the subject, no matter that Jack was no longer looking at him and was instead focused entirely on chopping up some rosemary and garlic. âThatâs why you stepped in and took care of her date instead of letting security handle it.â
Johnâs tone was dry enough to give the Sahara a run for its money, but Jack refused to rise to the bait. Huffing an exaggeratedly beleaguered sigh, John cut to the chase. âDo you know her or something?â
âNo,â Jack said quicklyâtoo quickly, he knew. He could feel Johnâs indefatigable gaze drilling into the side of his head while he worked. He knew John wouldnât give up the interrogation until he got something so Jack finally admitted, âBut⊠maybe I want to get to know her.â
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a wide grin spread across his sous chefâs face a moment before John clapped him on the shoulder. âThatâs great, chef,â he said, but he mustâve noticed Jack wasnât grinning along with him because he asked, âIt is great, isnât it? I mean, itâs been a while for you, hasnât it?â
âSheâs too young for me, man,â Jack said, his voice harsher than heâd intended. He paused, swallowing, then grabbed a pan and some chicken cutlets, getting to work breading and seasoning them. âBesides, sheâs had a rough nightâthat jackass grabbed her.â Jack had to stop again and take a breath to contain his anger before he went on. âShe doesnât need some old man creeping on her, too.â
âDude,â John started, before getting distracted by plating up a new round of orders. It took him a moment to get back to the conversation. âYouâre not that old,â he said, shooting Jack a look like the head chef should know all his âold manâ comments were in good fun. âAnd if you think sheâs not interested, you didnât see the way she was looking at you.â
At Johnâs comment, Jack fumbled the pan he was cooking in, nearly spilling oil and chicken into the fire of the stove. He glanced at John, back to what he was doing, then to his sous chef again, who was watching him with a not-so-small smirk on his face.
âH-how was she looking at me?â Jack finally asked, unable to stop himself, not even daring to hope John wasnât somehow fucking with him.
Sure, Jack knew youâd wrapped yourself around his arm while heâd walked you back to the kitchen, and he couldnât get the memory of the way youâd touched his arm out of your head. But that wasnât flirting⊠was it? And certainly there wasnât anything particularly interested in the way youâd looked at him. Right?
Johnâs incredulous look told him otherwise. âJack, the girl practically had hearts in her eyes when she looked at you,â he said, and when Jack opened his mouth to protest, he cut him off. âSheâs into you, dude.â
âWhat, noâno, no, sheâs justâŠâ Jack couldnât believe how idiotic he sounded, fumbling around his own kitchen while John tried to tell him you were interested. It was like he was a young, inexperienced teenager all over again with his first crush, disbelieving she could ever like him back.
âEllis, back me up,â John was saying, calling over one of Night Shiftâs senior chefs while he set a new round of plated meals onto a tray for a server. âThe girl Jack brought back here had heart eyes for our head chef, didnât she?â
It was only his decades of experience that allowed Jack to continue cookingâboiling water and adding pasta, mixing milk and cheese in with the chicken to create a creamy sauceâwhile he waited with bated breath for Parker Ellisâs response. Jack trusted the senior chef not to bullshit him or fuck with him the way John sometimes did.
âOh yeah, full-on heart eyes,â Parker announced, stopping beside John for a moment to drop off some more plates in need of their finishing touches. She glanced at Jack, who was still trying to process her pronouncement. âYou gonna do something about it, chef?â
Was Jack going to do something about it? Everything in him ached to do somethingâto touch you, to kiss you, or, at the very least, ask for your number and take you out for a real meal sometime. He wanted to get to know you, he wanted to impress you with the most romantic of dates, and then he wanted to take you home and take care of you in every way he knew how.
It had been a long time since Jack had wanted any of those things with anyone, and it was a shock to his system to feel them for someone so soon after meeting them. But Jack could tell you were special. There was a spark between the two of you that he knew heâd be a fool to ignore.
However, he was still wary about scaring you off or creeping you out. But maybe he wouldnât if Jack could take things slow. He could feed you, make sure you were comfortable in his office, and then later, heâd give you a tour of his kitchen and see how things went from there. If you seemed into it, he could ask for your number and take you out on a real date.
Happy with his plan, Jack finally looked up from where he was finishing the meal heâd made for you. He found both John and Parker looking at him expectantlyâand a little impatiently. He twisted his mouth to the side to bite back a smirk.
âDonât you two have something better to do than discuss my love life?â he grumbled good-naturedly, knowing neither of them would take him too seriously.
True to form, Parker snickered and gave Jack a mock salute. âHappy for you, chef,â she said before heading back into the crowded kitchen.
Meanwhile, John was grinning to himself. âGet your girl, old man,â he quipped, giving Jack a sly look out of the corner of his eye.
Jack made a show of grumbling about his impertinent staff while he plated up the dish heâd made for youâchicken and pasta with a creamy, cheesy sauce flavored with plenty of rosemary and other herbs. Then, it was time to bring it to you, and even Jack was a little surprised by how eager he was to get back to you, striding across the kitchen as quick as he could.
Knocking lightly before pushing inside his office, Jack found you curled up in his desk chair, your legs tucked underneath you, an e-reader in your hands. For a moment, Jack was struck by the easy domesticity of the sceneâhim bringing you dinner while you looked sexy and cozy in his office.
It would be all too easy for Jack to get used to this, having you visit him at his restaurant and waiting in his office for him to finish up for the night so he could take you out for a late-night drink, or some ice cream. And then, heâd take you home and get you underneath him so he could have a late-night snack of his ownâŠ
âOh hi, is that for me?â
Your question dragged Jack from his reverie, and he couldnât help but smile when he saw your wide eyes looking up at him. He stepped forward to set down the dish and silverware heâd brought on the desk in front of you, your sweet scent tickling his nose before he stood back to give you some roomâand so that he could watch your reaction.
You tucked your e-reader back into your purse, and Jack knew the exact moment you smelled the food in front of you because you went still and your eyes slid closed. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and when you exhaled, it was with a low, throaty moan that went straight to Jackâs dick.
For the first time since heâd hit middle age, Jack was actually glad he wasnât as quick to harden as when he was younger. Still, he had to curl his hands into fists at his sides and tamp down on the instinct to adjust his cock, which was twitching to life, not wanting to bring any attention to how your innocent reaction was affecting him.
Instead, he focused all his willpower on keeping himself from getting harder, which became more difficult when you blinked your eyes open, looking almost dazed with hunger and pleasure. It was all Jack could do to hold himself back from touching you, from tracing the shape of your mouth with his fingers, from kissing you so that the desire in your eyes was all for him and not his food.
âIt smells delicious, chef,â you purred, your voice low and husky in a way that Jack could tell wasnât intentional, which made it affect him all the more.
âGive it a try, sweetheart,â Jack said, unable to keep the gravel out of his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to stop himself from reaching for you. He wanted to grab you by your hips, put you in his lap, and feed you. But he reminded himself he was taking things slow, so he leaned against the desk and watched you intently. âI want to know if you like it.â
Bobbing your head in a nod, you grabbed your fork, scooped up some of the pasta and speared a piece of chicken, popping the whole bite into your mouth. Some cream sauce lingered in the corners of your lips, and Jack had to clench his fists to stop from swiping it away with his thumb. He was nearly undone, biting back a groan, when your tongue peaked out and licked it up with a garbled moan.
âOh my god, thatâs the best thing Iâve ever tasted,â you proclaimed. The pleasure in your voice made Jack harder, but he focused instead on the pride blooming, warm and sweet, in his chest.
Still, he couldnât completely ignore his cock twitching to life in his jeans. For once, he was grateful for the apron covering his front, helping to shield the bulge growing between his thighs. God, he felt like a fucking teenager.
âAh, th-thanks,â he said, stumbling over his words, flustered by just how much you visiblyâand verballyâenjoyed his food. âItâs a personal recipe, not on the menu.â He shot you a wink, hoping desperately that it came across as charming, and not unbearably cheesy. âI figured you could use some comfort food.â
The somber note in Jackâs voice seemed to strike you right in the heart, and you blinked, your eyes dropping from his for a moment. Jack wondered if heâd made a mistake by referencing your bad date, but then your hand darted out, playing idly with the edge of his apron just below where his arms were crossed.
âI canât thank you enough for getting me out of that situation, Jack,â you said softly, and the chef was so distracted by the sound of his name on your tongue that he almost missed what you were saying. But then you looked up and your gaze was arresting. âI thought I could handle itâcould handle himâbut I donât know what I wouldâve done if you hadnât been thereâŠâ
Jack hated how small you sounded, how unsure of yourself.
Before he knew what he was doing, Jack was sweeping down onto one knee, barely biting back a wince when his prosthetic protested, and settling his hands gently on the outside of your thighs. He tried to ignore the heat of your bare skin against his palms, forcing himself to focus on you and making sure you saw yourself the way he saw you.
âYou wouldâve been fine, sweetheart,â Jack said in his firmest tone, even as he made sure to keep his voice gentle. He could tell from the uncertainty in your eyes that you were hanging on his every word, and he felt compelled to go on. âYou can take care of yourself, and if youâd needed to, you wouldâve handled that asshole.â
Something like pride and confidence swirled in your eyes, and Jack let his mouth twist to the side in a smile. It made him feel good to know he could put that look in your eye, and he felt his chest puffing up a little bit before he got control of himself and gave your thighs a reassuring squeeze before continuing.
âI am glad I could help, though,â Jack said, his voice rougher than it had any right to be. But he was kneeling so close to you that he breathed in your sweet scent with every inhale, and it was going straight to his head. âThank you for letting me feed youâthank you for letting me take care of you.â
Your eyes were wide and bright and fixed so intensely on Jackâs that he barely felt it when your hands settled gently on his shoulders, holding on to him like he was the one steady thing you could count on. His grip on your thighs tightened, drawing you closer until your knees collided with his chest.
âAnytime, chef,â you murmured, your lips parted and glistening and looking so fucking tempting.
A little growl rumbled in Jackâs chest and he watched your eyes flare with interest, before settling back into a heavy-lidded stare. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, curling into the cotton of his white t-shirt, and he could feel you lightly tugging on him, trying to bring him closer.
Fuck, Jack wasnât just interested in you, he craved you. It didnât matter that heâd known you for such a short time, he wanted to devour you. He wanted to take you into his arms and kiss the breath from your lungs, make you come apart and then hold you tight until you put each other together again.
He wanted to go back to work knowing you were safe and sound in his office, eating the food heâd cooked for you, then give you a tour of the kitchen later. When that was done, he wanted to drive you home, make sure you got in safe, and make plans to see you again. He wanted to take up as much space in your head as you were taking up in his.
Jack wanted to kiss you. And, if he wasnât mistaken, you looked like you wanted him to kiss you, too.
A great crashing sound came from the kitchen, shattering the perfect moment, and Jackâs stomach sank when you flinched. You tried to hide your reaction, staring at him innocently like you hadnât recoiled at the loud sound, but he was reminded that he should be taking things slowly, carefully, making sure you werenât overwhelmed by all that had happened throughout the night.
âEat up, angel,â he rumbled, giving your thighs one last squeeze before moving to stand, pushing himself up with one hand on his desk. He gritted his teeth through the pain in his limb as he settled back onto his prosthetic, and gave you another of his hopefully charming winks. âIf youâre a good girl, Iâll make you some dessert to go with your kitchen tour.â
At that comment, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sultry smile spreading slowly across your face. When you looked up at Jack, your eyes were a little hazy, and your body swayed closer to him, almost like you couldnât help yourself.
âOh, Iâll be good,â you murmured, looking more sexy than you had any right to curled up in Jackâs desk chair. âI promise, chef.â
There it was again, that title rolling off your tongue and licking straight down Jackâs spine. He had half a mind to gather you up in his arms and kiss you until you were murmuring that word into his mouth, his neck, into the center of his chest while he pressed between your thighs and slid inside youâŠ
âIâll be back when it slows down,â Jack promised, wrenching himself away from his fantasy and backing toward the door of the office. If he didnât know better, he thought you mightâve been smirking as you hummed your acknowledgement. âEnjoy your dinner, sweetheart.â
âThank you, chef,â you chirped sweetly, turning back to your mealâthough not before catching Jackâs eye over your shoulder, a flirty spark in your gaze.
A goofy grin spread across Jackâs face, and for a moment, he let himself watch you as you pulled out your e-reader and began to read while you ate the meal heâd prepared. His chest filled with warm sunlight while something in his gut settled. It felt right to have you here in Jackâs office, in his space, looking safe and comfortable and content.
Holding that sense of rightness close to his heart, Jack ducked back into the kitchen, taking a moment to retie his apron before jumping into the fray. He felt steadier than he had before heâd brought you some dinner, and while Jack knew part of that was because he knew you were fed, it was also because heâd accepted itâhe was interested in you and he was going to pursue you.
Jack was done feeling guilty or creepy for wanting to spend time with you, even if you were one of his restaurant guests that heâd had to save from an atrociously bad date. Jack believed what heâd told you, that you could take care of yourself, and if you wanted to spend time with him, too, then Jack wasnât going to feel bad about it.
So he took his place beside his sous chef and got to work on the endless stream of orders coming into Night Shiftâs kitchen. He let himself fall into the rhythm of the work, plating up and putting the finishing touches on all kinds of dishes before they were whisked away into the dining room. He worked with a methodical determination, knowing that the sooner he cleared out all the orders, the sooner he could check back in on you.
When things finally slowed down, Jack heaved a sigh of relief. It was a strange feeling, knowing he had someone in his office that he eagerly wanted to get back to, and it wasnât until he caught John giving him an annoying looked that he realized he was smiling.
Jack tugged off his black nitrile gloves, tossed them in the trash, and flipped off John while he made his way back to his office. Jackâs heart squeezed at the sight that greeted him.
He found you snuggled up in his chair, his leather jacket tucked around you like a blanket, your head lolled to the side as you slept soundly. Jack marveled at the beauty of your faceâthe soft slope of your nose, the pretty curve of your mouth, the delicate fan of your lashes against your cheeks.
Somewhere deep in his chest, Jackâs heart knocked against his ribs like it was trying to get his attention, and he knew exactly what it wanted to sayâyou could be his. If you let him, and if you wanted him, too, Jack could fall for you. That night could be the start of something new, something spectacular.
Thinking about how he could very much get used to seeing you in his chair, in his office, Jack tucked his leather jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, holding his breath when your cheek nuzzled against the back of his hand. His heart thumped happily when you smiled softly in your sleep and it took every bit of his strength to pull away.
As quietly as he could, Jack cleared the empty plate and silverware from his desk, taking care not to disturb you. He carried it to the door, where he paused to look at you again, watching you sleep for just a moment longer.
It struck Jack then, like a lightning bolt, that he wasnât just interested in you or attracted to you. He was completely gone for you. He was yours, and he could only hope that youâd want to be his.
Even before you were fully awake, you knew you were safe.
Warmth, and the scent of leather and herbs, surrounded you, easing you back into reality from dreams about a hot, silver-haired chef and big, capable hands on your body. Desire curled lazily, low in your belly, and you snuggled deeper into the leather jacket wrapped around your shoulders, wishing for more time of with your dream chef.
But before you could slip back into sleep, it struck you suddenly how quiet it was in your little cocoon. Youâd fallen asleep to the chaos and clatter of the kitchen at Night Shift, but the noise had dwindled down to a dull murmur. It hit you that you mustâve slept longer than youâd intended.
Youâd only meant to close your eyes for a few minutes. Youâd been so full from eating the comfort meal Jack Abbot had cooked for you, and youâd felt so warm and cozy once youâd tugged his jacket off the back of the chair and wrapped it around yourself. You hadnât been able to stop yourself from letting your eyes close and falling asleep.
Reaching out from beneath the jacket, you checked the time on your phone and confirmed youâd not only slept through the rest of the dinner rush, but through Night Shiftâs closing time. Slowly, you began to uncurl yourself from your position in Jackâs chair, stretching and looking toward the door of his office, wondering why he hadnât woken you up sooner.
Had he forgotten about you?
It was a little dizzying, the sheer amount of disappointment that swept through you at that thought, and it took you a moment to wade through the emotions to get back to rational thought. Jack had been so kind and attentive since heâd rescued you from your bad date, it didnât sit right to think he mightâve forgotten about you.
It also just didnât make sense based on the way heâd looked at you before heâd left you alone to eat. Heâd stared at you so intently with those dark hazel eyes of his, youâd felt like he wanted to consume you. Even just the memory of his stare was enough to warm you from the inside out, heat swirling through your belly before settling between your thighs.
Intending to get to the bottom of why Jack had let you sleep in his office for so long, you did a quick check of your makeup in your phoneâs camera and set your feet on the floor. You were just rising to stand when Night Shiftâs head chef stuck his head in through the open door.
âYouâre up,â he said, his sharp eyes taking in the way you wobbled on your heels, wincing at the pain of wearing them for so long. He came into the room and took your hand, setting a steadying palm on your hip while his fingers twined with yours. âHow are you feeling?â
His attentive question sent more warmth spiralling through your chest, and you smiled softly at the chef, leaning into his warmth. He was still wearing the thin white t-shirt that pulled obscenely across his shoulders and highlighted his bulging biceps, but the brown apron heâd had on earlier was gone, leaving him in just a simple pair of dark jeans and black shoes.
Meanwhile, you were still in the little black dress and heels youâd donned for your date, but somehow you didnât feel overdressed around Jack. You enjoyed the way his eyes raked down your body, appreciating the way your dress clung to your curvesâhugging your hips and cupping your tits. It made you crave the chefâs touch everywhere he looked.
âI feel good, chef,â you murmured huskily, your lips quirking into a little smirk when heat flared in Jackâs eyes. âI needed a little rest, but now Iâve got a second wind.â
âStill want that kitchen tour, sweetheart?â Jack rumbled, his hand on your hip pulling you closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the warmth of it teasing every inch of your bare skin. âYou were such a good girl during the dinner rush, Iâve got that dessert I promised you.â
Something deep inside you clenched tight at the way Jackâs voice rumbled over the words âgood girlâ, his praise going straight to the place between your legs that was beginning to throb the longer his hand remained on your hip. To steady yourself, you lifted your hands to Jackâs biceps, feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingers as you looked at the chef from under your lashes.
âReally?â you asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of your voice, out of your smile.
Jackâs mouth pulled to the side in a slow, wicked grin, his eyes sparkling with humor and something that looked a lot like hunger. âHow do you feel about coffee and chocolate?â
Excitement bubbled up your throat, and you bounced a little on the balls of your feet as you confirmed your undying love for coffee and chocolate. With another grin that had your core clenching, Jack guided you back into the kitchen, his big hand firm against your lower back.
Most of the kitchen staff had cleared out, leaving the space spotless and easier to navigate as Jack walked you through. He showed you each of the stations, and introduced you to the few remaining kitchen staffâincluding his sous chef John Shen and senior chef Parker Ellis.
Jack left you chatting with John and Parker while he rustled around in a fridge, pulling out some containers and setting up a work station on one of the long, silver tables in the center of the room. Once he was done, the other chefs each gave Jack a handshake and half-hug before bidding you a goodnight.
As they left, John exchanged a loaded look with Jack that had the head chefâs face twisting into an exasperatedly stern expression, and you had to bite back a smile. It was clear Jackâs staff loved him, respected himâand teased him every chance they got.
It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, to know that you werenât the only one who felt safe with Jack. He was a good boss, a good man, to everyone in his life. He was the exact opposite of the man youâd gone on a date with and needed to be rescued from.
Jack Abbot was the kind of man you could be alone with in a deserted kitchen and feel only excitement, only the thrumming awareness that something might happen between you two. You turned to him, your gazes meeting, and for a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other, silently acknowledging the sparks igniting in space between your bodies.
âHop up,â Jack said, his voice as rough as a knife on metal. With one hand, he patted the counter beside the cutting board heâd set up, his dark eyes watching you intently.
Your gaze snagged on that hand, on the thickness of his fingers and the smattering of freckles along the back. You remembered how that hand had felt on your hip, on your thigh, and you nearly whimpered with the need to feel his palm on you again, but you managed to bite it back.
Instead, you did as the chef said. You pressed back against the counter, planting your hands on the edge and arching your spine just a little more than necessary to stick out your tits. You were rewarded with Jackâs gaze dropping quickly to your chest before he dragged his eyes back up to your face. With a smirk, you jumped onto the counter, careful not to put too much weight on the wrist your date had grabbed.
The cold metal of the worktable was a stark contrast to the warmth of your bare thighs, and you hissed softly, your shoulders trembling as a shiver snaked down your spine. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your body and wished you hadnât left your jacket in Jackâs office.
But then Jackâs hand was on your knee and he was giving you a concerned look, his silver brows lowered over his hazel eyes. âCold, sweetheart?â
âYeah,â you answered sheepishly, giving a light shrug and trying to shake off the chill. You leaned into Jack, your body seeking his warmth. âThe kitchen gets cold without all the ovens and stoves on, huh?â you asked wryly, trying to get a reaction from the chef, and soften the worried lines of his face.
Jack huffed a laugh, shooting you an amused smirk even as he squeezed your knee in chastisement. The weight of his palm, the soft press of his fingers, had tendrils of heat licking down your spine and settling between your thighs. It took a great deal of effort not to shiver and grab hold of Jack to pull him closer.
âStay here,â he rumbled, pulling away and striding toward his office. You nearly whined at the loss of his body heat, but you perked up quickly when he returned with his leather jacket.
The chef stepped close enough to your legs that your knees brushed his thighs, and your gaze snagged on his. He was so close, you could see the lines in his weathered face, the silver stubble along his jaw, and the light freckles dusted across his cheeks.
Tension crackled as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, his fingers brushing gently against your bare skin, and you leaned closer, until you could feel his unsteady breaths on your lips. Jack went still, his eyes searching yours and you tried your best to tell him without words how much you wanted him to kiss you.
But either Jack didnât get the message or he chickened out, because he swallowed hard and tucked the lapels of the leather jacket around your shoulders, making sure you were ensconced in its warmth before he moved back to his workstation. It seemed to take him a moment to gather himself before he spoke.
âBetter?â he asked, his voice raw with a hunger that made you squeeze your thighs together against a pulsing ache.
âYeah, better,â you answered, your voice faint, trying and failing to shake off the unslaked desire burning through your body. You didnât know if Jack was purposefully ignoring all the signals you were giving him, or if he was truly unaware, but you didnât know how much longer you could last before you simply grabbed the chef and kissed him yourself.
Despite the almost-kiss, you and Jack fell into an easy quiet, him pulling out some dark chocolate and beginning to chop it up into tiny shards while you watched him work.
The muscles in his arms moved mesmerizingly as he worked his knife against the cutting board, his freckled forearms flexing deliciously, his biceps straining the hem of his white t-shirt. You had to wrap your fingers around the edges of Jackâs leather jacket and bury your nose in the collar, breathing in his herby, masculine scent, to keep from reaching out to touch him.
Whatever expression was on your face made Jack smirk when he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. After that, you couldâve sworn he started flexing his arms on purpose, getting fancy with his knife work, like he was trying to impress you.
From anyone else, that mightâve made you roll your eyes, or turned you off entirely, but Jack was so skilled, so charming, and just so downright hot, that it worked for him. His confidence came from his competence, and it was so attractive, it made you squirm where you sat on the counter beside him, the warmth blooming between your thighs becoming nearly impossible to ignore.
âWhatâre you making?â you asked in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from watching the muscles of Jackâs shoulders shift beneath the obscenely thin fabric of his white t-shirt. That t-shirt looked well-loved, and you had a sneaking suspicion it would feel really good to wearâwhile staying the night in Jackâs bedâŠ
âWeâve got some leftover coffee mousse from tonightâs dessert special,â Jack answered, seemingly unaware of how you were ogling him as he continued to chop the dark chocolate into little pieces.
His hands were so deft and skilfull, his fingers so thick and sure, you couldnât help but imagine what it would feel like for Jack to touch you. You imagined him putting his hands on your body, groping your soft curves, slipping his fingers between your thighs to press against your damp pantiesâŠ
âIâm just adding some chocolate to elevate it a little,â Jack glanced at you, and you knew your filthy thoughts were written all over your face by the way his eyes heated when they raked over your face. âChocolate makes everything better, doesnât it, sweetheart?â
Jackâs voice had lowered, sending delightful little tendrils of lust licking down your spine. Even if youâd wanted to, you couldnât have looked away from Jackâs dark gaze, the steady thwack of the knife against his cutting board matching the rhythm of the pulse between your thighs.
Slowly, you nodded your head. âYes, chef,â you murmured, your voice raspier than youâd expected, matching Jackâs lower tenor. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, you thought you might be able to hear it in the quiet kitchen, but it was only your soft, panting breaths.
The measured sounds of Jackâs knife ceased, his eyes dropping to your mouth, watching you breathe for one long moment, and then another, before dragging his gaze back to yours. Tension crackled electrically between your bodies, and it wasnât until your wrist gave a twinge of pain that you realized your hands were braced on the edge of the counter and you were leaning closer to Jack.
He seemed to notice the position of your body at the same time you did, his eyes darting down to where your tits were bouncing softly with your sharp breaths before looking up, a light pink blush appearing beneath his freckles. His gaze collided with yours, and you could feel the older man holding himself back, keeping himself in check.
But that wasnât what you wanted. You wantedâŠhim. Badly.
âJack.â His name was a desperate whimper, barely louder than your breathing, tumbling from your lips. Something in him seemed to break at the sound of his name from your lips, and you thought he might kiss you.
Instead, he surprised you by grabbing a piece of chocolate from his cutting board and lifting it to your lips. He met your stare with his own heated eyes, looking like melted chocolate mixed with caramel.
âHere, sweetheart, have a taste.â
Jackâs words were a low, delectable rumble from deep in his chest, and you couldnât hold back the shiver that raced down your spine, making your shoulders tremble with excitement under the onslaught of his voice and his closeness. You could smell his earthy, masculine scent, and you wanted more.
The tips of Jackâs bare fingers pressed to your lower lip and, instinctively, you parted for him, allowing the older man to feed you the chocolate. The rich, decadent taste burst in your mouth, and your tongue darted out, licking the pads of Jackâs fingers, making his eyes darken even further as he watched your lips close around the bite of chocolate.
You let the confection melt in your mouth, your eyes sliding closed of their own accord as you savored the delicious dark chocolate. You mightâve felt like you were in your own little world, but Jackâs hand fell to your thigh, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress where it rode high on your leg. You had to stifle another shiver as you hummed in delight, catching the rumble of a muffled groan coming from the chef.
When you opened your eyes again, it was to find Jackâs intense hazel eyes searing into yours, his gaze so blisteringly hot, you felt your core clench in anticipation. And since you knew you werenât alone in your attraction and lust, you licked your lips, watching Jack track the movement with his gaze.
âYum,â you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly through the hair on Jackâs arm, nails raking subtly against his warm, freckled skin. You were prepared for him to pull away again, but he didnât, and you let a small smile curve your mouth. âDo you have anything else for me to taste, chef?â
Although your question was, on its surface, innocent, you imbued your words with enough innuendo for your real meaning to get through to him. You knew that it had when the corner of Jackâs lips quirked into a smile, but instead of leaning forward and giving you what you wantedâhis mouthâhe pulled away and turned to something at his station.
The chef popped open one of the storage containers heâd taken out of the fridge and swiped his finger through the mousse inside. You almost squirmed in excitement as he held his hand in front of your mouth, offering you the sweet treat.
Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you held Jackâs scorching gaze as you brought his finger to your lips. You licked teasingly at the mousse, making sure not to touch Jackâs skin with your tongue, and had to fight a smirk when he let out a barely suppressed groan.
Putting both of you out of your misery, you closed your lips around Jackâs thick finger and licked the mousse off of him. The bittersweet taste of the coffee mousse exploded in your mouth, with just a hint of salt from Jackâs skin, and it had you moaning around Jackâs finger. His whole body jerked at the sound and the vibrations.
âChrist, sweetheart,â he groaned softly, his other hand grabbing your thigh, gripping you tightly as he nudged your knees open so he could step between your parted legs. âYou make the prettiest sounds when youâre eating my foodâI just wanna tasteâŠâ
Jackâs finger, still sticky with sugar, slid from your mouth and his hand cupped your cheek, tipping your face toward his. For a moment, he lingered with his lips just barely brushing yours, close enough that you were certain he could taste the coffee and chocolate on your breath.
It felt like he was memorizing the moment, savoring the tension that crackled between your bodies, the way your breath hitched with him so close. Your knees squeezed his sides, your fingers dancing up his ribs, and a soft, breathy whined sounded in your throat as you tried to pull him closer.
âIs this alright, sweetheart?â Jack asked, his thumb stroking your cheek, swiping over the corner of your mouth.
The genuine care in his deep, raspy voice was nearly your undoing. This man had done nothing but take care of you since heâd come striding out of the kitchen to save you from your bad date, but you were tired of him treating you with kid gloves. You wanted him so fucking bad.
Fingers curling in the sides of his t-shirt, you tugged Jack closer, sliding your body to the edge of the counter at the same time, uncaring about how high your dress was riding up your thighs. You parted your lips, tilting your head into the handsome chefâs hand as you pressed your soft body against his hard one.
âYes, Jack,â you whimpered, unable to stand the crackling tension any longer, even as you wanted to bask in it for the rest of your life. âKiss me. Please, chef.â
Jack didnât need to be asked twice. He closed the distance between his mouth and yours, capturing your lips in a slow, decadent kiss that had your heart soaring. His lips were soft, but firm, as they moved against yours, taking immediate control while you were left to gasp and whimper into his mouth.
It was everything youâd hoped it would beâthe older man kissing you sweetly at first, before pressing his thumb to your chin and tilting your head back so he could sweep his tongue into your mouth. The hot slide of him was determined and possessive and so fucking hot, you moaned against his lips, trembling as you met the fervor of his kiss with your own heady lust.
Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you wrapped your arms around Jackâs shoulders, your fingers sinking into the soft, steel gray curls at the back of his head. Your fingers tangled in the strands, tugging lightly on his hiar as your nails raked lightly against his skin, earning you a desperate groan. Jack deepened the kiss again until you couldnât do anything else but breathe him in.
The chefâs hands skimmed down your sides beneath the edges of his leather jacket where it was still balanced precariously on your shoulders. His palms were warm as his thick fingers wrapped around your ribs, pulling you even more flush against his chest, your legs splaying wide to make room for his broad body.
His thick, half-hard cock pressed against your soft inner thigh, and you shifted until he was nestled against your warm center. You rocked your hips, grinding against his bulge, dragging a desperate groan out of the older man.
âFuck, angel, you taste like heaven,â Jack rasped, pressing kisses along your jaw, tickling you with the silver scruff on his cheeks. When he suckled on a spot beneath your ear, you moaned and writhed in his arms, pressing your aching pussy against his hardening cock. âFeel like it, too.â
âGod, you feel so good, Jack,â you babbled breathlessly, rubbing against his body like a cat in heat. You hiked your thighs higher around his waist, using the leverage to hump against his thick cock through your clothes. âI want you. Please, chef,â you begged against Jackâs ear, nipping at the lobe and smiling wildly when he shuddered in your arms, his hips grinding his cock harder against your soft core.
âI thought you were going to be a good girl for me, sweetheart,â Jack growled, his voice softly recriminating as he grabbed your hips hard, his fingers digging roughly into your soft flesh.
But instead of dragging you closer and giving you what you wanted, he pushed you back. Lifting his head from your neck, he gave you a stern look, softened by the affectionate twist of his mouth and the spark of desire in his eyes, sending a zing of lust straight to your dripping slit.
âDonât you wanna be good for me, angel,â he rumbled, his voice deliciously raspy, âand let me feed you some dessert before you start begging me to fuck you?â
Your jaw dropped and you sucked in a sharp breath at Jackâs filthy words, heat suffusing your body so fully, you couldnât find a single word in your entire head to respond. You could only stare at the older man, your thighs squeezing his hips and wordlessly begging him to put your body out of its misery, but Jack simply chuckled at your reaction.
He stole a kiss from your parted lips before gently extricating himself from your clinging body, shushing you softly when you whined at the loss of him. Giving your hips one last rough squeeze, he stepped out from between your legs and adjusted his thick cock in his jeans as he moved back to his workstation.
It was absurd how cold you felt without him, and you pulled Jackâs leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, pouting at the chef. He pretended to ignore you, scooping up chocolate shards and dumping them into a bowl along with some mousse while you kicked your feet petulantly and whined, âJaaack.â
That got you an amused smirk. âJust a few bites,â he urged, picking up the bowl and beginning to whisk the chocolate into the mouse, melting it into the dessert. âI promise itâll be worth it,â Jack said, giving you another of his charming winks.
It had its intended effect, and you softened, endeavoring to wait patiently, though you still made a show of grumbling your discontent even as you got distracted by watching him work. Jackâs arms flexed deliciously while he whisked the chocolate into the mousse, his biceps straining the sleeves of his t-shirt so enticingly, you wanted to bite them, then lick every freckle, then bite him again.
Jackâs low chuckle let you know heâd caught your hungry look, and heat flooded your cheeks, but you didnât get a chance to stammer out an apology or an explanation before he was setting the bowl down and grabbing a spoon. Scooping up some of the mousse mixture, he lifted it to your lips.
You opened eagerly, already knowing whatever Jack made would be delicious, and let him pop the bite into your mouth. Jack watched you closely as he pulled the spoon out, giving you a moment to taste what heâd given you.
The delectable flavors of rich coffee and velvety chocolate melted on your tongue, and your eyes slid closed as you savored the sweetness, a low moan slipping from your lips at how good the dessert tasted.
âJesus, Jack, thatâs the best thing I think Iâve ever had in my mouth,â you groaned, opening your eyes. You found Jack staring at you, a wild look in his eyes, and so much hunger in their depths, it stole the breath from your lungs. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
You half expected the chef to pounce on you, to kiss the remnants of the dessert from your lips and show you what other things he could stuff in your mouth, but you shouldâve known better. Jack didnât take the bait of your comment as he kept a white-knuckle grip on himself, holding back even as more tension than ever snapped and crackled between the two of you.
âWant some more, sweetheart?â he rasped, holding your gaze.
Your head was bobbing an eager nod before heâd even finished the question, and he lifted another spoonful of mousse to your lips, watching as you ate it happily, humming in delight. When Jack fed himself some of the sweet concoction, you could only watch with rapt attention as it disappeared inside his mouth, his tongue flicking out to catch some left at the corner of his lips.
The need in your body had pulled you taut as a bowstring, your skin practically vibrating with desire by the time youâd finished enough of the dessert for Jack to hopefully be satisfied. It was a testament to his culinary skills that you were still able to taste the chocolatey coffee confection with how much lust was swirling through your body, simmering low in your belly.
You squirmed where you sat, the metal beneath your thighs warm from your skin, and felt how wet you were, your panties nearly soaked with your desire. You were hot enough that you pushed the jacket from your shoulders, and looked directly at Jack, pouting at the chef once more.
âJack, please,â you whined, your fingers curling around the edges of his t-shirt, knuckles brushing his ribs. You felt him suck in a breath as he let you tug him back between your legs, your body trembling with excitement and need. âIâve had enough dessert, I need something elseâŠâ
The older man didnât respond immediately, his head ducked, watching as his palms skimmed up the outside of your bare thighs, like he could barely believe you were letting him touch you. Your fingers trailed up his arms, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails raking lightly against his skin. You watched him close his eyes at the sensation, knowing he enjoyed it.
âIâve been a good girl, havenât I?â you murmured in Jackâs ear, feeling the tension in his shoulders as they bunched beneath your arms. He let out a slow breath, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. âIâve been so good, and I want you so bad, Jack. Touch meâplease, chef.â
The last thread of Jackâs control snapped at your commentâyou felt it in the way his muscles moved, poised on the edge of giving in before he finally let his desire loose after your begging plea. His hands grabbed you roughly, fingers digging into your bare ass beneath the hem of your dress as he yanked you closer.
His mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a blisteringly hot, devouring kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. He wrapped you up in his arms, crushing you to his chest as he kissed you, gorging himself on your mouth, his hands groping greedily at your body while you clung to him.
It was everything youâd wanted from the chef, and the corners of your lips curved in an attempt at smile, but then Jack was kissing you harder, overwhelming you until you were moaning mindlessly into his mouth. Youâd never felt more desired than you did when Jack kissed you, and youâd never felt more in danger of letting yourself fall for someone.
You were mostly lost to your lust, your nipples puckered and needy where they were pressed against the chefâs chest and your pussy aching to be filled, but it occurred to you that Jack was different from all the other men youâd dated. He was kind and gentle and steady, and he kissed you so good your head spun.
It struck you suddenly that while you knew you were safe with Jack, you were in danger of losing your heart to him. But that was the kind of danger you wanted to be inâespecially since you knew that if you fell for him, Jack would catch you.
So you kissed the chef right back, pouring your desire for him into the slide of your mouth against his, holding him close as you flung yourself off the edge, letting emotions swirl and swell in your chest, confident that heâd carry your heart in his hands and protect it with his life.
Youâd never been safer in your entire life than you were in Jack Abbotâs arms.
Jack Abbot was in heaven.
In all his years of cooking, of being a chef, heâd never tasted anything as divine as you.
He could gorge himself on you and still never get enoughânot of the way your mouth moved against his, your lips soft and tongue eager as it twined with his. He couldnât get enough of the feel of your body beneath his hands, so sweet and supple and responsive.
Every press of his fingertips into your spine had you arching into him, breathy, little whines slipping from your lips for him to devour. He could taste the coffee and chocolate on your tongue, and he sucked on your plump lower lip, groaning as he savored the combination of the dessert heâd fed you with the natural flavor that was all your own.
Kissing you was making him unbelievably hardâharder than heâd been in a long timeâhis cock heavy and weeping in his jeans. The only thing that saved him from embarrassment was how enthusiastically you were grinding against his bulge, the dampness of your panties leaving a wet spot where his cock was straining against the dark denim.
Jack dragged his hands up your sides, wrapping his fingers around your ribs, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your tits, teasing you both with the barest of touches. You let out a soft, keening sound against his mouth, making him smirk before he pressed kisses along your jaw and down the smooth column of your neck.
âMore, Jack, please,â you begged, your hands fisted in his shirt and tugging on him restlessly. The desperation in your voice, the way you begged for him, it made his cock twitch for you.
He shifted his hands higher, groping your tits through your dress and dragging a filthy moan from your pretty lips. The pads of his thumbs teased your hardened nipples, and he reveled in the way your body shuddered in his arms. Your spine arched, pressing your tits into his hands and he rewarded you by rubbing your nipples more with his thumbs.
âYa like this, sweetheart?â Jack rasped against your neck, raising his head enough to nip at your ear. âLike letting an old chef feel up your pretty tits?â
âOld, hot chef,â you shot back, correcting him in a deliciously breathless voice.
Jackâs cock twitched at the compliment, and he couldnât believe how lucky he was to have found youâsomeone so beautiful and full of life. Someone so into him.
He pressed his smile into the spot beneath your ear, kissing and licking your skin until you were moaning softly.
âAnd yes, chef, I love it. Touch me more, touch me harderâplease,â you begged, squirming where you sat on the metal counter in his kitchen.
What was Jack supposed to do? Deny you?
He couldnât even fathom the idea of not giving you what you asked for, even if he knew that he was letting things get a little out of control. The two of you were still at Night Shift, and though the staff had left for the night, it wasnât the best idea to have sex in his kitchen.
But Jack couldnât seem to stop himself, not when you were making such pretty noises while he sucked a hickey into your neck and teased your nipples with the lightest of pinches. His mouth trailed up your throat before capturing your lips in another kiss, swallowing your sounds of pleasure while he played with your tits.
It had been so long since Jack had lost himself in anyoneâthere hadnât been anyone whoâd awoken that desire in him the way you did. Not since his wife passed. You were a siren calling him to the danger of your body, to the promise of losing his heart to you, and Jack knew he could drown in you if you let him. He hoped to god you let him.
For long, endless minutes, Jack kissed you and groped your tits, playing with your nipples and seeing how many different noises he could pull from your lips. And for a while, you let him, the sounds of your pleasure growing more high-pitched, your hips working more desperately to hump against his cock.
Eventually, your need mustâve grown too great, your frustration too acute, because you grabbed one of Jackâs wrists and shoved his hand down between your bodies, until his fingers brushed your soaked panties.
âTouch me here, Jack, pleaseâI need it,â you whimpered in his ear, and it was nearly his undoing.
It was his turn to gasp and groan, the tips of his fingers stroking against the sodden fabric as he used every ounce of the self-control heâd learned in the army not to spill himself in his jeans right then. You were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet.
Jack teased his fingers along the seam of your slit through your panties, hoping you couldnât tell how much his hand was shaking. You felt so perfect, it was overwhelming. Heâd stopped kissing you, your mouths close as you breathed each otherâs air, panting your excitement together while he pressed into your cunt through your slick panties.
âLike this, sweetheart?â he rumbled, the edge of his mouth pulling up in a smirk when you let out a desperate little mewl. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly while you rocked your hips onto his hand.
âJaaack,â you sobbed, and heâd never heard anything as sweet as the sound of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, pleasure soaked into your voice.
You pulled harder on his hair, and the jolt of pain went straight to his dick, which leaked even more precum into his jeans. Jack responded by pushing his fingers deeper between the lips of your pussy, his progress restricted by your panties, which prevented him from burying his fingers in your hole.
A violent shiver wracked your body, and Jack wrapped his other arm more tightly around your lower back, holding you close while he fucked you shallowly with his fingers. His thumb teased your clit with a featherlight touch, drawing a feral sound from your perfect mouth.
âPlease, oh god, please, chef, touch meâfuck me with your fingers, please, please, please,â you babbled, yanking on his hair to draw him closer. But instead, Jack took the opportunity to lean back and take a look at youâand what a sight you were.
Your head was thrown back, your expression openly desperate with lust. Your gorgeous eyes were dazed with desire, your plump, perfect lips parted and panting for air. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths, enough that your tits threatened to spill out of your mussed dress, which was hiked up high, Jackâs big hand pressed between your soft thighs.
You looked debauched. You looked so beautiful, Jackâs heart clenched in his chest and he couldnât stop himself from imagining you looking like this in a million different waysâon the desk in his office, in the backseat of his car, on his couch at home, in his bed.
In that moment, Jack wanted nothing more than to have you in all those ways. He wanted to move you into his place and put a ring on your fingerâhe wanted to make you his and keep you forever. He was stunned by how much he wanted you.
âJaaack,â you whined, your sweet voice bringing him back to the moment. Your eyes were wide and pleading as you looked at him. âI was a good girl, wasnât I?â you asked so pitifully, Jackâs heart ached.
A single tear slipped down your cheek and he cupped your face, panic stealing into his gut and making his stomach drop. He wiped your tears away, already knowing he was going to give you whatever you wanted. If youâd asked him to lay down and die for you, he wouldâve done it without a second thought.
âYouâre being so mean, chef, when I was so good for you,â you whimpered, your hips worked against his hand. The movement reminded Jack of how heâd been teasing you with his fingers, dragging you to the edge of desperation when all you wanted was to be full of him.
âOh, baby, baby, baby,â Jack groaned, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
He held your face in one hand as he kissed you, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips, while the other tugged your panties to the side. He pushed one of his thick fingers into your tight, dripping hole, swallowing your moan like it was the most exquisite decadence heâd ever tasted.
âIâm sorry, angel, youâre right,â he rumbled against your mouth, pumping his finger steadily into your pussy, feeling your gummy walls gripping him tight. âYou were such a good girl for meâso good that âm gonna make you come on my fingers, alright?â
âPromise?â you asked, pouting up at him from under your lashes, and Jack knew he was in trouble, because that look on your face could get him to do anything you asked.
The corner of your mouth twitched, like you were holding back a grin, and Jackâs heart thumped in his chest because you knew the effect you had on him. He liked that a little too much. He liked that you werenât afraid of torturing him a little bit after heâd teased you a little too much. It felt intimate, like you were building something real together, something that would certainly last past the night.
âI promise, angel,â he cooed, stroking his finger deeper before adding a second one, watching the way your breath caught on a gasp, biting back a self-satisfied smirk. âThereâs a rule in my kitchen, yâknow,â he went on, talking out of his ass to keep your attention on him even as he finger-fucked your pussy. âGood girls always get to come on the chefâs fingersâand youâve been such a good girl for me, baby.â
You let out a soft, breathy giggle at that, just like Jack had hoped, and he pumped his fingers harder into your wet, gripping cunt, making your laugh devolve into a dirty moan. Your body went loose and languid in his arms, and he rewarded you by pressing his thumb against your clit. He rubbed the little bundle of nerves, watching how you reacted until he found exactly what you liked most.
âThink you can take another, sweetheart?â Jack asked, pressing kisses to your heated cheeks and cleaning away the remnants of your tears with his lips. He trailed his mouth down to your neck, enjoying the way you shivered when his stubble rasped against your sensitive skin. âCan you take one more finger in this sweet cunt, baby?â
âYes, please, chef,â you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin through his thin t-shirt.
Every pinprick became throbbing pleasure as it zinged down to his cock. He hadnât been so close to coming in his pants since he was a teenager, but he fought off his own desire and focused on you. You and your pleasure were what mattered to him, not his dick.
âGood girl,â Jack purred, grinning into your neck when your pussy pulsed at the praise. He eased a third finger into your slick hole, biting back a groan when your tight warmth enveloped him. He pressed his cock against your soft thigh, looking down and watching your pussy take his thick fingers. âFuck, angel, look at youâtaking me so well.â
You leaned back, looking down your body, and Jack knew the moment you saw his fingers disappearing inside your cunt because you clamped down hard around him, like your body was trying to suck him deeper. He stifled another helpless groan, pumping into you, pressing against a spot that had you shivering and moaning wantonly.
You fell back further, planting your hands on the counter to hold yourself up, trying to use your leverage to bear down further on his fingers. But youâd barely rocked your hips in a slow roll when you let out a cryâthe tenor making the hairs on the back of Jackâs neck stand upâas your arms gave out and you fell backward.
Quick as he could, Jack slid his free arm up your back, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to catch you before your head could hit the shelves above the counter. He pulled his hand from between your legs, holding onto your bare thigh with his sticky fingers as he ducked his head to meet your eyes.
âWhatâs wrong, baby? What happened?â he asked, his gaze searching your face, which was twisted like you were trying to hide your pain. âDid I hurt you?â he asked, his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the thought.
You shook your head, rejecting the idea, which calmed Jack for a moment. Until you spoke.
âMy wrist,â you whimpered. âHurts.â
It took all of a second for Jack to understand what had happened. Youâd put too much pressure on the wrist that your worthless excuse of a date had grabbed, had hurt, and it had given out. Rage flooded through Jackâs body, his blood pumping hot with the desire to track down Curtis Larsen and beat him to a bloody pulp.
But Jack knew that wouldnât help anyone, least of all you, so he worked to rein in his anger. He focused on you, making sure you could sit up on your own before taking the hand of your injured wrist in his.
When he held it up to the bright lights in the kitchen, he could see bruises had formed where Curtis had grabbed you. Before he could stop it, a choked off growl rumbled beneath his sternum, the animalistic sound only ceasing when you stroked your palm down his chest, soothing him.
It took Jack another moment to collect himself, to gather his anger and put it in a box to deal with later. Gently, he lifted your hurt wrist to his mouth and brushed the sweetest, softest butterfly kisses over the bruises mottling your skin.
âIâd kill him if I thought I could get away with it,â Jack confessed, hoping to make you giggle again, his eyes lifting to your face to watch your reaction.
Although you didnât laugh, his words did the trick of bringing the spark back into your eye. A shy smile curved the corners of your pretty mouth, and you lifted your other hand to cup Jackâs jaw, your thumb teasing over the stubble on his cheek.
âHeâs not worth the effort,â you said, and though Jack agreed with you, he didnât like the idea of letting Curtis Larsen get away with hurting you.
âHmm,â Jack hummed noncommittally, wondering if he could call the police tomorrow and report the man for assault since itâd happened in his restaurant.
He liked that idea.
He liked the idea of locking up Curtis Larsen and throwing away the key even more. But you were his priority, not that jackass that had been your date, so he focused back on you.
Jack squeezed your thigh, his thumb teasing close to the edge of your panties. âDo you want to keep going, sweetheart?â he asked, his gaze watching you carefully. âI can take you home if youâd prefer.â
The change in your expression was immediate, your lower lip pushing out in a pout, your eyes widening and looking at Jack from under your lashes.
âI want to keep going,â you murmured, almost shyly, meeting Jackâs gaze before it dropped to his mouth. Your free hand fell to his arm, moving his hand from your thigh back between your legs then looking up at him. âI donât want my shitty date to ruin our nightâand you promised me Iâd get to come on your fingers.â
A small smile curved Jackâs mouth and he ducked forward, stealing a quick kiss from your pouting lips before he pulled away. His grin was cocky as he pushed your panties to the side and teased your tight hole with the tips of his fingers.
âYouâre rightâand I always keep my promises, baby,â he assured you, pressing his fingers into your pussy while he watched you closely, making sure he didnât hurt you.
Once they were buried inside you, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your injured wrist, then brought your hand to his shoulder. He gave you a pleased smile when you lifted your other arm to circle loosely around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape.
âHold on to me, angel,â Jack urged, easing his fingers out, then back inside your pussy, feeling your slick, tight cunt stretch around him. He watched your eyes go hazy with lust, your mouth falling open as you panted through your pleasure. âIâll make you feel goodâmake you forget everything that happened tonight before I came to your table.â
With a soft, sweet sigh, you draped your arms over Jackâs shoulders, taking all the weight off your wrists, and leaned forward to nuzzle into the side of his neck. Warmth suffused his body, his cock twitching in his jeans when he felt you press a kiss to the underside of his scruffy jaw.
âThank you, Jack,â you murmured, your voice almost low enough to be drowned out by the quiet whir of machinery in the kitchen. Your warm breath brushed against Jackâs throat and he had to suppress a shiver, focusing on your words. âYouâre all I want to remember about tonight.â
Jackâs arm tightened around your lower back, instinctively pulling you closer as his heart gave a heavy thump in his chest. Your sweet words called to something deep in his soul, something that hadnât been fed in too long for him to be normal about it.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell you he wanted to spend every night with you, that he wanted you in his bed when he woke up in the morning and to come home to you in his kitchen. He wanted to cook for you and take you out and move you in with himâŠ
But Jack knew it was way too soon to be having those thoughts, let alone say them out loud, so he put on the charm, hoping you couldnât tell where his mind had wandered.
âAnd the food, right?â he asked, his tone teasing and light as he fucked you with his fingers again, his thrusts building you back up to where youâd been. He could feel the way your body trembled in his arms, and he held you tighter so he could feel the pleasure work through you. âYou want to remember the food, right, sweetheart?â
You huffed a laugh against Jackâs neck, your tongue darting out and swiping up the side of his throat, making him groan helplessly at the obscene feeling of you licking him. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, his cock grinding against your soft inner thigh.
âOh yes, chef,â you purred in his ear, your voice shaky and breathless and so, so sweet as he pumped his fingers into you harder, his thumb rubbing your clit. âI want to remember everything I got to taste tonight.â
Your words conjured images of your pert mouth on Jackâs cock, your teasing tongue swirling around the tip, licking up his precum before sucking him deep between your soft lips. It was such a hot image, Jack had to duck his head and muffle his tortured groan into your shoulder.
It took him a full minute to get himself together, your giggles echoing softly in the empty kitchen while your nails raked through his silver curls. Once he was able to focus again on the present, Jack pressed his mouth to your collarbone, licking and sucking your skin down to your tits, pushing the top of your dress down so he could take your nipple into his mouth.
The older man was rewarded with a sharp cry from your lips, your spine arching and pressing your tits further into his mouth. Jack grinned into your soft flesh and began to lavish them with his attention, his fingers still working in and out of your pussy while his thumb rubbed your clit in teasing, maddening circles.
It occurred to Jack that he could stay right where he was for a long, long time and be happy to keep sucking on your tits, learning what made you squirm and moan, all while he fucked your cunt with his fingers. But all too soon, you were hovering on the edge of your release, your pussy fluttering around Jackâs fingers, your cries turning high-pitched and desperate while your body worked to find your pleasure.
Your fingers were threaded in his hair, clutching his head tight to your chest as you moaned and rocked your hips harder on his fingers. Mindless pleas were falling from your kiss-swollen lips, frantic appeals for âmoreâ and âharderâ, begging him to give you the release you needed.
Jack was torn between drawing out the moment, making it last forever, and giving you what you wanted. Eventually, his need to take care of you won out, and he pushed his fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb mercilessly rubbing your clit while he lifted his head from your chest.
âCome for me, sweetheart,â he growled in your ear. âShow me what a good girl you are and come all over chefâs fingersâlet go, let me see you come for me.â He pressed his fingers against that spot deep inside your body and stroked your clit, feeling you tighten around him.
Pulling back enough to see your face, Jack watched you succumb to pleasure, your release taking hold of your body and making you throw your head back, a desperate, breathy cry bursting from your mouth. Your fingers tightened in hair, and your pussy clamped down on his fingers, making him work to keep fucking you through the waves of pleasure surging through your body, which trembled in his arms.
âGood girl,â Jack rumbled, his fingers slowly sliding in and out of your pulsing channel, wringing every ounce of bliss from your body. âSweet girl, perfect girl.â
You curled forward and sobbed your pleasure into Jackâs neck, and when you shuddered at the overstimulation of his fingers, he gently eased you down from your peak. Once your release had ebbed, he slipped his fingers out of your body, and helped you to sit up.
âYou gonna keep being a good girl and clean me up, baby?â he asked, touching his wet, dripping fingers to your plump lower lip. Jack didnât know what had come over him, but the desire to see you taste yourself was too great to ignore, and he hoped he wasnât making you uncomfortable.
He was pleased when your already unfocused eyes went even more hazy, your head nodding and a smile curling the edges of your mouth before you parted your lips and let Jack slip his fingers inside. You hummed a happy sound that went straight to Jackâs dick then got to work cleaning your own release from his skin.
It was such an erotic sight that Jack thought he could watch you suck on his fingers for the rest of the night, but then he realized heâd given away the opportunity to taste you himself and he got ridiculously jealous. You werenât done cleaning him up, but he pulled his fingers from between your lips and shoved them into his own mouth.
Jack groaned at your taste, savoring the musky flavor of your pleasure while he held your gaze, letting you watch him lick his fingers clean. Your eyes were hooded and full of renewed lust, your lips swollen and parted as you panted for him.
He couldnât stop himself. Between one breath and the next, his mouth was crushing against yours in a mindless, feral kiss. He could taste your pussy on your tongue when his delved into your mouth and it drove him wild. His arms wrapped around your body, crushing you to his chest while he kissed you harder, groaning when your fingers pressed into his spine and clung to him just as tightly.
âJack, I want more,â you cried when your lips wrenched free from his, your fingers trailing around his ribs and down over his stomach until you could cup his thick erection through his jeans. âI need you inside meâneed you filling me until Iâm so full of your cock, itâs all I can think about.â
âFuck, angel, you beg so pretty, how can I say no?â Jack teased, his voice only a little unsteady. He tried to pull away, but couldnât bring himself to when you were stroking his cock through his pants, wringing desperate whimpers from him that wouldâve embarrassed him if you werenât smiling like the cat that got the cream. âCâmere, baby, let me fill up that greedy pussy of yours.â
But when Jack grabbed your ass and pulled you close to he could thrust into your pussy through your clothes, he felt a twinge of pain in his leg where it rubbed uncomfortably against his prosthetic. The pain shot straight up his spine, making his mind go completely blank for a moment, his breath catching in his lungs.
During work, Jack could typically grit his teeth and bear the pain when it hit, but heâd been on his feet for too long. Heâd pushed himself beyond his own limits and his body was reminding him that he wasnât the young, spry man heâd once been.
âJack?â you asked, your voice thick with concern.
The older man took stock of himself, and realized heâd half collapsed against you, his head on your shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants as he breathed through the pain. Heâd shifted his weight to his one good foot, leaving him a little off-balance and using you to steady himself.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly, stroking your fingers comfortingly through his hair and across his shoulders. When he relaxed into your touch, you held him tighter, not seeming to mind that he was putting some of his weight on you.
âMy prosthetic,â he grumbled, not entirely happy that this was how he was telling you, but not shying away from the truth either. âHurts.â
âYour prosthetic?â you asked after a moment, and Jack paid close attention to the tone of your voice. You sounded confused, maybe a little curious, but Jack was relieved that there wasnât revulsion or, worse, pity in your tone.
âLost my leg while I was in the army,â he explained, taking a deep breath as he began to recover his strength. The pain had subsided, leaving him a little shaky and off-balance, but fine.
âOh, okay,â you said, nothing but acceptance in your tone.
Your fingers were still idly playing with Jackâs hair and that, more than anything else, helped him feel betterâthough he knew heâd have to get off his feet soon. He was trying to work out how to tell you he couldnât fuck you on the counter in this position when you took him by surprise with another question.
âIs that how you got the medal?â
Jack paused. Of all the questions you couldâve askedâand heâd heard most, if not all of themâthat wasnât one heâd anticipated. Most folks didnât know about the medal, and it took him a moment to remember that he kept it on his desk in his office, where youâd spent most of the evening.
The realization that youâd been curious enough about him to look through his desk made his heart soar, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. For some reason, it didnât bother him, you going through his things. It felt right, the idea of you being comfortable in his space.
âWere you snooping through my stuff, sweetheart?â Jack asked teasingly, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze, curious about how youâd react to the question.
He watched your eyes widen slightly, your gaze darting away before returning to his with a sheepish look on your face. âIt was on top of your desk,â you mumbled, shrugging, then wincing at how blithe you sounded. âI didnât go through any drawers or anything, I swear.â
Jack couldnât help but chuckle at how guilty you looked, and he smoothed a hand down your spine in a reassuring gesture. âYouâre adorable,â he murmured, capturing your lips in a kiss to let you know you were forgiven. âAnd yes, itâs how I got the medal. Iâve made peace with it, but sometimes, it makes thingsâŠtricky.â
You nodded somberly as you absorbed that information, your eyes dropping down to where Jack was still half-leaning against you. The chef could practically see the gears turning in your head as you thought, but he was still taken by surprise when you lifted your gaze back to his and asked, âWould it help if I was on top?â
Your question made Jack pause again. Heâd been with his wife already when heâd lost his leg, and sheâd helped him figure out what worked afterward. It had given him the confidence heâd needed to eventually move on after sheâd passed on. But the few flings heâd had since werenât as easily accepting as you, and none of them had been as considerate.
It made Jackâs heart clench in his chest as he realized all over again how glad he was to have found you. Although he wished the circumstances of your meeting were differentâhe wished youâd never been hurt by your dateâhe was grateful that the universe had brought you together.
âYeah, actually, it would,â Jack said, matching your serious tone with his honesty.
It was another moment where the weight of his feelings for you took him by surprise, especially after knowing you for such a short time. In an effort not to scare you away by revealing how he felt, he used his charm to lighten the mood. Ducking his head, he caught your eye and let a smirk play on his lips.
âDo you wanna ride me, baby?â he asked, his tone teasing, his smirk spreading into a full-blown confident grin when lust bloomed in your eyes, none of it tainted by pity or fear or disgust. It made his cock throb for you. âWanna ride chefâs cock and make us both feel good?â
âYes, please, chef. Iâd love to ride you,â you purred, pushing him gently back to give you room to move.
You held his gaze as you reached beneath the hem of your dress and wiggled until youâd yanked your panties off, looking at him expectantly. Jack unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, shoving his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free.
He watched your eyes dart down, then widen when you took in the size of his thick cock. His dick wasnât the longest, but it was fat enough that his three fingers stretching your pussy would feel small in comparison. Suddenly, he hoped you werenât afraid.
It was on the tip of his tongue to reassure you, to tell you that you could stop this at any time and the two of you could go slow if that was what you needed. But before he could get the words out, your eyes lifted to his and he saw the spark of eager excitement in their depths, in the curve of your grin.
You looked like a sultry creature feral with lust, your pretty, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a sensuous smile as you hopped off the counter and prowled closer to him, only wobbling a little in your heels. Jack reached for you at the same moment you spun him around and shoved him onto the counter so you could climb on top of him.
âIâm gonna make us feel sooo good, chef,â you promised, settling your knees on either side of Jackâs hips and rising up, wrapping your fingers around his thick cock. Jackâs hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up so he could see your bare pussy where you rubbed the tip of his dick through your slick folds. âGonna ride your cock until youâre coming hard in my cunt. Tell me you want it, tooâplease, chef.â
For a moment, all words fled Jackâs mind. All he could do was feel the teasing warmth of your pussy kissing the tip of his cock, hear the soft wet sounds of your desire, smell the scent of your arousal. All he could see was you, looking like a goddess above him, promising him pleasure.
Fuck, Jack Abbot really was in heaven, and he hoped he never had to leave.
You were right where you were meant to be.
You couldnât explain what had come over youâwhether it was simply the lust youâd felt at the sight of the older manâs thick cock or if it was everything about the chefâbut you had the sense that everything youâd been through that night was worth it because youâd met Jack Abbot.
He was everything youâd been looking for in a partnerâkind and capable, charming and funnyâand plenty that you hadnât known youâd wanted, like the way he could talk just as dirty as you, and cook way better than you ever could. Heâd been gentle when heâd kissed your injured wrist, but hadnât held back when heâd fucked you with his fingers, giving it to you as rough as you needed to get off.
Jack had made you feel safe and desired. Heâd taken care of you in every way youâd needed throughout the night, and you were in serious danger of falling for him. If you hadnât already. It mightâve been a little crazy, but you mightâve fallen for him already.
The weight of your feelings were too heavy to tell the chef just yet, so you focused instead on the moment, on the feeling of Jackâs broad tip teasing between the lips of your pussy, of the firm grip of his hands on your hips, and the heat of his eyes as he watched you tease his cock.
It was intoxicating, seeing the unrestrained lust in Jackâs face, darkening his hazel eyes and twisting his mouth into something feral and hungry. The thought crossed your mind that you could try to tease him until he snapped, the last remnants of his patience falling away as he yanked you down on his cock. But just the fantasy had you pulsing with need.
You needed Jackâs cock inside you. Immediately.
But before you could start to lower yourself down on Jackâs bare length, you remembered yourself. You paused, hovering above his thick, throbbing cock, and took a breath to steady yourself. Still, your voice was a little shaky as you spoke.
âIâm on birth control; Iâve been tested, and it was clear,â you rushed to say, hoping Jack could understand your words even as they tripped over each other to fall off your tongue. You braced one hand on his shoulder and looked dead in the older manâs eyes. âI want you bare, Jack, please.â
âJesus,â he cursed, letting his head fall against your chest. His shoulders were trembling slightly, and it took a moment for the man to get himself together to look at you. You wanted him without a condom too badly to rush him. âIâm all clear, too, angel,â he rasped, staring into your eyes. âIt would be the honor of my life to fuck you raw, baby.â
Your heart soared, battering against your ribs like a caged bird wanting to take flight. You were so overcome by emotion, by your desire for this man, that you couldnât think of doing anything else but kiss him. Jack cupped your face while your fingers sank into his steel gray curls, both of you holding each other tight as you kissed, hard and deep, with all the wild, unfettered emotion you felt.
Before the kiss even ended, you were already pressing down on his cock, only pulling away from Jackâs mouth when the tip pushed inside your body, the stretch making you gasp. He was wider than anything youâd taken before, and it sent a filthy shiver sliding down your spine as you felt your body straining to take him.
âGod, Jack, youâre soâfuck, youâre so fucking big,â you whimpered, your eyes crossing a little as you lowered yourself another inch, grateful that heâd already finger-fucked you to orgasm once, since it made the slide slightly easier. You shuddered with the effort not to impale yourself all at once, knowing it would be a mistake if you didnât go slow.
âCareful, sweetheart, donât hurt yourself,â Jack warned, but there was a hint of a teasing chuckle in his tone that drove you wild, your pussy clenching around and suckling on the tip of his cock. His words devolved into a pleasured groan that trickled down your spine like warm honey. âFuck, I can feel you squeezing me alreadyâyouâre so tight and warm and wet. Jesus.â
âUh huh, uh huh, so wet for you,â you babbled, bouncing a little on Jackâs cock to take him deeper. Your pussy stretched to accomodate him and the feeling of fullness stole the breath from your lungs. âYouâre splitting me open so good, Jack, fuckâfuck, chef.â
âMm,â Jack hummed, his hands kneading your ass and sliding up your spine beneath your dress, pulling you flush against his chest. His mouth found your neck, pressing kisses to your skin that had you shivering in his arms. âYouâre gonna take it all, arenât ya, baby,â he rumbled into the hollow of your throat, âbecause youâre such a good girl for me, huh?â
You couldnât explain it, but Jackâs words had a ridiculous effect on you, making your pussy gush even more while your heart soared. Your hips rolled, pressing down determinedly and taking his cock nearly to the root, the stretch dragging a gasp from your lips while you clutched the older man close, reveling in the feel of his mouth on your neck.
âYuh huh, your good girl,â you moaned, feeling Jackâs cock deep in your body. It filled you up so good, stretching you nearly to your limit, but youâd gone slow enough that it didnât hurtâjust made you impatient to have all of him.
You squirmed in his lap, lifting up and pressing back down, taking more and more of him with every downward thrust. Jack chuckled darkly as his hands hand returned to your hips, groping you with those thick, skillful fingers of his while he helped you bounce on his cock.
âThatâs right, my good girl,â Jack rumbled, the possessiveness in his voice making your whole body clench, wringing a desperate groan from his mouth. He pulled you closer at the same moment when you spread your knees wide, and the result was your body being finally fully impaled on his cock.
The sudden, complete fullness was a delicious shock to your system and you wrapped yourself tightly around Jack, your arms circling his shoulders while you trembled and adjusted to the size of his fat cock buried in your cunt. It took you a breath to return to the moment, feeling Jackâs hands smoothing over your bare thighs in soothing gestures.
âAtta girl,â Jack praised, pressing a kiss to your sweat-damp temple. âYouâre taking me so well, sweetheart. Feels like you were made for meâmade to take my cock.â
A soft, breathy laugh burst from your lips, because those words were exactly what you wanted to hear, and it surprised you to hear them from Jackâs mouth. It made you feel like you werenât alone in the big, overwhelming feelings you were having too soon for the chef, and you pressed your face into his shoulder to silence yourself before you said something too soon.
Instead, you focused on the feel of Jack. Every little movement of your body had his cock shifting inside your tight channel, his heavy length dragging against your sensitive inner walls, making your surprised laughter turn into a helpless moan.
âYou feel sooo good,â you murmured, rocking your hips and getting lost in sensation. With your head fuzzy and full of pleasure, you sat up enough to look into Jackâs face, staring deep into his eyes. âIf I was made to take anyoneâs cock, Jack, Iâd want it to be yours,â you said, not realizing until the words were out of your mouth just how revealing they were.
But instead of the depth of your desire scaring the chef, his gaze turned more intense, and a flicker of a smile played around the corner of his mouth. He drew you closer, until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth away from his. His eyes were hot and dark as they stared deep into your soul.
âIâm so glad you came into my restaurant tonight, angel,â Jack rasped, so much genuine affection in his tone, it made you melt further into him, your knees squeezing his hips while you clung to his shoulders. âMeeting you has made this the best night of my lifeâI hope youâll let me see you again.â
âOh, Jack,â you whispered, tears stinging your eyes, not from sadness but a boundless happiness. You tried to blink them away, embarrassed to be crying while Jackâs cock was still buried in your body, but the older man didnât seem to mind, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and brushing away the few tears that fell. âIâd really like to see you again, too.â
âGood,â he said, his voice so decisive that you knew it was settled. Your heart soared in your chest, and a smile broke across your face. You couldnât have said which of you leaned forward first, closing the distance so your mouths came together in a kiss, a promise.
The kiss was slow and sensual, one of Jackâs hands cupping the back of your head while you explored each other. It was a delicious kiss, made all the more exquisite when Jackâs tongue licked into your mouth, drawing needy sounds from your lips as he kissed you deeper, like he wanted to remind you that he was buried in more than one of your holes.
You barely noticed when your hips began to rock, fucking yourself on Jackâs big cock. But when his hands dropped to your hips, urging you on, you had to pull away from his mouth with a gasp.
Tossing your head back, you focused on riding your chef, lifting up onto your knees and slamming back down on his hard, thick length. It was dizzyingly glorious, the heat and hardness of him filling your tight hole, punching the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but let out mindless sounds of pleasure.
âThatâs my girl, fuck yourself on my cock,â Jack murmured encouragingly, his hands on your ass helping you lift yourself up and slide back down his stiff shaft. He groaned, loud enough to drown out the wet sounds of your pussy and the soft clap of your ass hitting his thighs. âFuck, angel, you feel so goodâsuch a good girl, riding chefâs cock like a fucking champ.â
A shiver raced down your spine at his praise and your fingers tangled in Jackâs hair, bracing yourself so you could bounce harder on his cock. Every thrust of his dick deep into your cunt was driving your pleasure higher, until your head was filled with clouds and your body was tingling, balancing on the precipice of your release.
âYes, yes, yes, your girl, your good girl,â you panted, your eyes heavy-lidded but still open as you watched Jackâs face, his skin flushed red, making his freckles stand out in stark relief. âPlease, chef, Iâm so closeâplease, I needâŠâ
Your words devolved into a moan as Jack took control of your body, changing the angle of your hips so your clit was grinding against the base of his cock. All you could do was gasp and whimper and whine and try to hold on to him while he helped you ride him.
âMy sweet girl, my perfect girl, my gorgeous girl,â Jack cooed, punctuating his words by pulling you down on his cock over and over and over again, making sure your clit rubbed against him with each thrust. âI know what my girl needsâcome for me, pretty girl. Wanna see you let go, wanna feel you come on my cock, baby, please.â
Jackâs words and the way he guided your body, helping you find your pleasure, were your undoing. Tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core until it suddenly snapped. You were sent tumbling over the edge of your release, every muscle in your body pulling taut before you exploded with a wailing cry, pleasure crashing through you in violent, euphoric waves.
A groan tore from Jackâs mouth and his arms tightened around your body. He held you crushed against his chest, moaning his own pleasure into your neck while his hips jerked between your thighs, fucking you through both your releases.
You clung on to him, your body writhing on top of his as you eked out every bit of bliss from each other, until the waves of your release began to recede. With a sated sigh, you collapsed against the older manâs shoulder, fingers raking idly through his hair while his hands stroked everywhere on your body he could reachâyour hips, your thighs, even down your calves and up your spine beneath your dress.
Between your thighs, you could feel his hot release beginning to leak from your hole, and you squirmed a little at the strange feeling of loss that settled in your gut. Jack pressed one of his palms to your lower back, urging you to settle on his lap, and you let yourself relax, reveling in the feeling of his softening cock still filling your pussy.
After giving you a few moments to recover, Jackâs fingers trailed down the side of your face where your head was laying on his shoulder. He curled a finger around your chin and tilted your head up enough so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.
âAlright, angel girl?â he asked softly, his voice so low and raspy, it sent little tingles dancing down your spine. You smiled against his mouth.
âSooo good,â you answered, your mouth quirking into a smirk as you continued. âOr should I say, âThank you, chef, that really hit the spotâ?â
Jack huffed a surprised laugh, squeezing you tight in his arms as he shook his head. âWhat am I gonna do with you, baby girl?â
It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jack that what he should do was take you back to his place and keep you forever. That thought was so surprisingâyouâd only known him for one night!âand felt so right, that instead of answering, you kissed him.
You could feel the smile on his lips before he kissed you back, and that little expression had you realizing just how fond youâd grown of the chef in such a short time. It was so astonishingly easy to picture yourself going home with Jack, sleeping in his bed, cuddled up in his arms, then having breakfast together in the morning.
The night had started with you not expecting much from your date. You thought maybe youâd hit it off and see him again, but you hadnât dared to have much hope.
And now, the night was ending with you kissing a different man, one youâd only just met, and wanting so much more with him. You wanted to get to know Jack Abbot and see if your initial compatibility and attraction could lead to something more.
For the first time in a long time, you had hope. It felt like everything that had happened earlier in the evening was fate conspiring to bring you and Jack togetherâand you were all too excited to see where things would go.
The best part, you realized, as Jack kissed you back, his mouth moving sensuously against yours, was that he seemed just as excited to get to know you, too. Heâd shown you nothing but green flags all night, and had even already asked to see you again. It felt like something close to magic to know that the man you liked, liked you back.
A smile fluttered at the corner of your mouth as you let yourself focus on kissing Jack, knowing thereâd be time to overthink everything later. For the time being, you wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with your chef, because you were certain it was the beginning of something beautiful.
For a long while, the two of you were making out just for the fun of it, for the enjoyment of being with each other, until Jackâs soft cock slipped from your body and made you shiver. He grabbed his leather jacket from where youâd tossed it on the counter and wrapped it around your shoulders, giving you one last kiss before he began to ease you off his lap.
âIâve got to clean up here,â he said, tucking his cock away and zipping up his jeans before he helped you straighten your dress, his eyes wandering shamelessly over your body, like he hadnât yet had his fill of worshipping you. âOnce Iâm done, I can take you home. Sound good, sweetheart?â
âThat depends,â you said, your fingers snagging in the hem of Jackâs white t-shirt, preventing him from moving too far away. You werenât usually the clingy type, but you couldnât bear to be away from him just yet. âAre you gonna take me back to my place, or yours?â
The older manâs gaze darkened and his hands settled on your hips, pulling you close again. Your arms wound instinctively around his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair in a way that already felt so comfortable and familiar.
âI was planning to take you to your home,â Jack began, a smirk curling his mouth when you pouted up at him from under your lashes. âBut if youâd like, I can take you back to mine.â His eyes softened as he looked at you, his smirk melting into a smile. âIâd love to cook you breakfast, sweetheart.â
The depth of the affection in Jackâs gaze and his words made you feel suddenly shy, and you ducked your head a little. âIâd like that,â you murmured, sneaking a peek at him and finding the chef grinning like heâd just won the lottery. It gave you the confidence to lift your head and give him a confident smirk. âBe careful, though, if you keep making me such delicious food, youâll never get rid of me.â
Something devilish flickered across Jackâs face and his smirk was all smug confidence as he swooped in and stole a kiss from your lips, leaving you breathless when he pulled away a moment later. âThatâs the plan, angel girlâIâm gonna keep you around any way I can until you get sick of me.â
You were already shaking your head before heâd even finished talking, your fingers tugging lightly, admonishingly, on his hair. âThatâll never happen,â you said, your tone more serious than youâd intended. But your honesty was rewarded with Jackâs mouth twisting into a smile and him kissing you again.
It was such a privilege, you realized, to be with someone who wanted you just as badly as you wanted themâwho liked you just as much as you liked them. From the moment youâd met him, Jack had made you feel safe, had taken care of you, had shown you that you were special simply for being you. And you hoped youâd done the same for him.
When Jack finally pulled away from the kiss, you whined a little, making him chuckle. âCâmon, baby girl, letâs clean up and go home,â he rumbled, kissing each of your cheeks, then your nose, before giving you one last kiss on your mouth.
His words and his sweet kisses had you smiling and giggling, and you nodded, your heart warm and light as you let Jack move away to begin cleaning up his workstation. As he did, you fetched your things from his office, turning off the light and closing the door.
By the time youâd returned, Jack was done, and he held his hand out for you to take. You did so happily, handing off your jacket and purse for him to carry when he offered.
Stepping out into the brisk, spring evening, a breeze sweeping through Pittsburgh and making you glad to have Jackâs jacket around your shoulders, you felt like you were leaving the little bubble you and the chef had created. But as you watched him lock up the back door of Night Shift, using only one hand so he could keep holding yours, you knew you didnât need that bubble.
You may have had to endure the date from hell to meet Jack Abbot, but it felt like fate had designed the night so that you ended up right where you were meant to beâwith the hot, older chef who looked at you with so much awe and affection, it made your heart pitter-patter in your chest.
Jack walked you to his car, pushing you gently against the passenger door to kiss you some more before he helped you into the seat. He held your hand as he drove you back to his place, kissing your knuckles every few minutes, then leaning across the center console to kiss your mouth after heâd parked in front of his house.
The two of you didnât talk much as you got ready for bed, but you didnât need to. A comfortable silence had fallen over you and Jack, and you didnât feel the need to fill it, especially with how tired you were. You changed into one of his t-shirts, brushed your teeth with the extra toothbrush he had on hand and cleaned your makeup off your face.
When you slipped into bed beside Jack, he was still massaging his leg, easing the pain heâd felt from wearing his prosthetic all night. You hoped heâd one day let you do that for himâhelp him to relieve the ache of the dayâs grind from his leg, his shoulders, and anywhere else that might pain him.
Before you could gather the courage to offer, though, Jack turned and slid under the sheets beside you. He wrapped you up in his arms, and both of you let out little sighs of contentment. You didnât know what exactly Jack was thinking, but you suspected it felt just as right to him as it did to you to be in his bed and in his arms.
You fell asleep knowing in your heart that you were right where you were meant to beâwith Jack Abbot.
thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
I'm very very very jealous, turned on and soooo incredibly shjshehsisbdhiebiek. It made my stomach feel all flattered and mushy and ughhhhh loved it so muchh, I'm on the floor in a puddle.... đ
Please read the warnings before reading any FF. Most of them are +18 and Of course Bucky~
<part14 ... part16>
May 2026
tiny moves by @nonotwithoutu | +18 | one of the guys on bucky's team has been going on about his wife's pregnancy, and after a particularly long mission apart from you, he's been having some thoughts. it turns out he's not the only one.
in the red dark by @sergeantxrogers | His eyes trapped yours in their vice-like grip as he stared up at you, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans, and you swallowed heavily. You felt the rush of alcohol in your head fizzle out into smoke and embers as you sobered up quicker than you ever have in your life.
by @aquaticmercy
Waffles and Ice Cream | fluff | Neither you and Bucky were ready for your sonâs first day of school.Â
Emergency Contact | After dating for six months, Bucky is now your emergency contact. Yelena, your best friend, finds out the hard way.
by @blowingbarnes
Teacher's Pet | +18 | series | Professor Barnes is the absolute worst type of professor. He doesnât know how to teach, he wants you to already know all the answers. And you⊠poor you, living for academic validation.
Passenger Princess | +18 | Lee Bodecker x reader | First date with Lee after so so much tension and heâs not nearly as stealthy as he wishes he was. You donât mind it though.
fluff moment by @smorgaswhored | fluff | fluffy sugar daddy bucky moment.
by @buckybarnes82
Tech gone wrong. | fluff | A mission going wrong leads to you getting minorly injured. You and Bucky both stay in a safe house together, and when the thought of looming feelings comes to the forefront, do you both finally admit how you feel?
Valentineâs | fluff | Valentineâs Day was always one of those âholidaysâ you didnât care much for, until you met Bucky.
by @buckyscaptain
SKINNY JEANS | you never got the whole fighting in skinny jeans thing, so as team movie night turns into just the two of you, you decide to bring it up.
I'M YOUR SWEETHEART? | having your appendix removed has you waking up wondering what's real and what's not, your boyfriend included.
by @witchywithwhiskey
something brutal and beautiful | +18 | when your car breaks down on the way to your parents' cabin, Bucky Barnes comes to your rescue. you end up staying in the unfamiliar alpha's cabin longer than you expected, with his far-too-enticing scent driving your omega wild. then, the atmosphere in the cabin shifts suddenly and the tension that's been building finally snaps.
safe and sound | comf | you're alone at your parents' summer cottage with your dad's best friend bucky barnes when a thunderstorm strikes in the middle of the night and the childhood fear that has followed you into adulthood rears its headâso all you can do is ask bucky if you can sleep with him.
safe and sound part 2 | +18 | you've fallen asleep in the arms of your dad's best friend bucky barnes, but when the thunderstorm that found you in his bed wakes you, things between you and bucky turn from comforting cuddling into something more.
on the clock | +18 | feeling unfulfilled by your job, you sign up to become a member of the Pleasure Portal network, which allows you to have sex with monsters around the world for money. then, when you connect with an anonymous monster on a boring summer day at the office, it leads to an afternoon delightâand something more.
knocked up by the mafia enforcers on halloween night | +18 | stucky x reader | tired of your boring, lonely life as a mafia princess, you go out on halloween looking for a little fun, and end up running into two of your father's most feared enforcers. you expect them to ruin your night, but maybe they're exactly who you need to make your life more meaningful.
careful what you beg for | +18 | one night, you go to sleep naked, which turns out to be an unintended invitation for an incubusâone he can't resist.
by @vunblr
Brown Sugar and Gunmetal | +18 | comf | Who would have thought that an inconspicuous vent in a bakery alley would be what brought them together: the omega who never felt right with any alpha, and the asset who wasn't supposed to want at all.
A Star Without a Sky | +18 | A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widowâs home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.
the grooms best by @apricotsflavors | Your brothers wedding is coming up, as much as you are exited, you dread the whole rehearsals scheme of it. To make matters worse your brother has named Bucky Barnes as his best man; meaning youâll have to face him after all these years. The same Bucky Barnes you had a one night stand years back, that stupid teenage summer romance, before he ghosted you to go to college.
it's been a long, long time by @buckytakethewheel | series | Sergeant Bucky Barnes from the 107th gets injured a lot. And when he does, there's only one pair of hands he allows near him.
Redamancy by @renxzs | Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.
JAMES? by @you-have-a-metal-arm | : When you call Bucky âJamesââa name no one else dares to useâhe reveals to a stunned Steve and Sam.
pull out? yeah right? by @slutdier | mickey henry x fem!reader | +18 | On a risky midnight balcony in Athens, you let Mickey Henry fuck you against the railing despite your nervous protests, only for him to promise heâll pull out and then deliberately fill you with two hot loads while groaning âsorry, felt too good.â
eleven o'clock sin | lee bodecker x fem!reader | +18 | A late-night donut delivery turns into something far sweeter and filthier, than Sheriff Bodecker ever expected from the townâs purest little angel.
Stitches by @woncheolisms | Youâre just a clueless new medical student. Youâre not equipped to deal with charming, witty, handsome doctors. Especially not ones with pretty blue eyes that make you weak in the knees.
spilled wine by @sunmoonandeddie | Youâre nothing more than a servant who happens to warm the bed of the king. At least, thatâs what you thought you were.
by @buckysdecaflove
Ficception. | +18 | Writing fanfictions sounds fun until your muse is aware of what you're writing about him.
Bucky's sweetheart. | +18 | After Bucky gets injured on a mission, your secret gets exposed.
Happy Mistake by @sunlightdances | Being assigned roommates with modern!Bucky. He's a giant and looks like he's a bully, but he's actually so shy and soft.
dust to dust by @autumnsghosts | When you come back from the blip in the graveyard having just been at your grandmotherâs funeral, the cemetery seems like the safest place to be. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you find yourself there most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. It also doesn't hurt that a certain blue-eyed super soldier visits the cemetery weekly, placing flowers over two plots.
Too Hot, An Arm Cold by @t-lostinworlds | Cuddles from Bucky Barnes was probably one of the greatest things ever. But it was difficult to prove that point true in the middle of a heatwave while the apartment air conditioner was broken. Good thing he has a cold metal arm.
by @fckmebarnes
two bad bitches at the same damn time | +18 | stucky x reader
put on a show | +18
alabaster walls by @unificsation | +18 | avengers x reader | teamwork makes the dream home work. call americaâs best to remodel your home: lay down pipes, screw your drawers, paint your wallsâanything you need.
spoiled milk by @perdidosbucky-yyo | +18 | Every Tuesday morning the housewives of Waiting Willow Lane eagerly wait for the handsome milkman. Pearls around their neck, red lips and a tight apron to accentuate their waist, at 5AM ready to bat their eyelashes at Bucky, not you though, but what happens when you smell another woman's perfume on your husband's shirt?
you all along by @juniebjonesin | +18 | being best friends since childhood with rebecca barnes meant a life full of adventure with only one hard rule: donât ever flirt with her brother. but that rule doesnt make room for an anonymous pen pal or a love that happens anyway.
Borrowed Fairy Tales by @ilovolderman | You take a last-minute princess job at Morgan Starkâs birthday party expecting easy money and screaming children. You do not expect a grumpy Beast ruining your life with soft looks.
by @venigrantrogers
making a bracelet for roommate | +18
doctor! doctor! anything-please! | +18 | Bucky hated seeing you like this, tired, anxious, always on the edge of breaking. He'd do anything to help you feel good.
delirium by @flowersforbucky | +18 | stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.
by @dearwalker
Supersoldiers in Paris | +18 | Bucky x Reader x John | Retrieving vials from an abandoned Red Room facility gets you infected with sex pollen. You may have to make a stop in Paris with John and Bucky before you can get back home.
Would you still love me if I was a worm? | +18 | A stupid little question turns into a makeout session. Your teammates hate to see it, except for one.
by @societyfolklore
Double Take | On your first major production, all you want to do is prove you belong. One simple task;  deliver Bucky Barnesâ harness, check his notes, and get him to the rigging bay⊠should be easy enoughâŠ.right?
Dexterity | When Bucky Barnes develops a Rubix Cube/ speedcubing obsession, you discover that watching his focused hands at work is far more distracting than it has any right to be.
by @metal-armed-muse
A TORTURE CALLED LOVE | +18 | You and Bucky have history. History of hating each other. One messy fuck in a bathroom later, youâre both scrambling to pretend it didnât change anything. What better way to save oneâs heart than by breaking the other first?
neighbour | +18 | congressman Barnes is your neighbour.
first aid | +18 | What starts as first aid gets dirty fast.
Uniform Inspection. by @w1nter-fairy | +18 | Bucky had been trying to adapt himself to modern world getting a new job at the Fire Department. He only meant to stop by before his shift, but things escalated quickly after you saw him in his uniform.
needed me by @godmadeaterribleerror | +18 | you can't stand bucky barnes. despite all your attempts to get rid of him, he's always somewhere in your orbit. you say you hate it. hate him. but you're also a very good liar.
His Name Was Never Just Bucky by @marvelstoriesepic | +18 | Falling for a mysterious man has been exhilarating, until you discover his biggest secret and realize youâve been loving the most dangerous man in the city. But can you run from a monster in his own home when his eyes and ears are everywhere?
This is Her Favorite Song by @steelpaperboats | steve kamp x reader | +18 | It comes as a surprise to absolutely no one, yourself included, that Steve gets off on being a doctor. You know this; you have seen it time and time again through his well-established 'profession.' And given you aim to please, you pose the question, "Can I be your patient?"
In The Dead Of Night by @mickimoo1409 | stucky x reader | +18 | After spending so much time researching Steve and Bucky, they begin to visit you in your dreams, but are they really dreams at all?
wouldn't it be nice to live together? by @rh1nestcned
doesnât trust by @sunskisser
by @imnotjustreadingg-volume-two
I just wanna feel you | +18 | Iâd like something like reader and bucky wedding day where theyâre both anxious and nervous and they called each other because they wanna went but then things gets heated and spicy during the phone call
Current boyfriend | You apply your cream and primer and then right when you take the concealer, the door of your studio opens. Your boyfriend Bucky Barnes enters.
dating by @shadyfestivalperfection
mission shipwatch by @ellebarnesx | The New Avengers start a full-on investigation when you and Bucky look a little too comfortable in your ''fake'' relationship.
Courage by @buckysknifecollection | After a busy month of avenging, you and Bucky finally make it to Tonyâs Halloween festivities and thereâs a Haunted House you just cannot miss, no matter how much of a scaredy cat you are.
gasoline by @iamthatonefangirl | +18 | despite everything in your past, despite the circumstances under which you got together and the circumstances that have dictated the majority of your relationship until now, being with James is fun.
Payment in Blood by @buckybarneslittledoll | +18 | In which your brother owes the bratva money and the pakhan decides to take you as a payment.
DRUNK NEIGHBOR by @idontexistrightnow | +18 | Bucky has had certain needs but he didn't think getting drunk would highten the need to act upon on those needs.
Love Stands Guard by @navybrat817 | During a fun and relaxing afternoon, Bucky overhears someone making fun of your body. He doesnât take too kindly to that.
rush week by @flushedmilk | bucky barnes is the last person a cheerleader should fall for. unfortunately for you, he seems to disagree.
perfect by @smorgaswhored | +18 | imagine buckyâs got a girlfriend
pud that down! by @danysdaughter | +18 | you suggest taking a break from your deeply attached boyfriend. he reacts poorly and things somehow get worse from there.
Laundry Day by @starling-in-the-sky | On Tuesday nights, you and Bucky do laundry together.
AO3
Omega Retreat by Shamrock_Queen | +18 | As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat. You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?
pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader
summary: you wake up alone for the first time since meeting your trucker, and it leads to an unexpected revelation about your relationship.
warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), brief dubcon, smut, piv sex, brief painful sex, unprotected sex, creampie, anal sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), sex toy, double penetration with a sex toy, rough sex, sadism/masochism, choking, breathplay, dacryphilia, painplay, face slapping, spitting/spit swallowing, finger sucking, biting, rough body play, rough breast/nipple play, brief food play, multiple orgasms, cock warming, pillow humping, scent kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, heavy degradation, some praise, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), possessive sex, possessive behavior, aftercare, controlling behavior, referenced abduction, referenced sex as payment, stockholm syndrome, a mean hot manâplease please please let me know if i forgot to tag something!!!
word count: 14.2k
a/n: its been so long since i started writing this installment that i don't remember where the idea came from, but i think i wanted at least one more chapter about Ari and reader's relationship before the big finale where he takes her to see his friends. truthfully, i just don't want to finish this series because i love them so much, but i do think they needed to take this step before the ending. and i SWEAR the next update will be the finale (and the one where reader gets used by Lloyd and Curtis đ€). anyway, i hope you enjoy this filthâwith some surprisingly emotional relationship development!!
trucker king masterlist
Warm, dappled, late morning sunlight fell across your bare legs, which were twisted in well-worn sheets that felt like butter against your body. A deep, satisfied ache throbbed in your core while the rest of your limbs were loose and relaxed.
It was the perfect way to wake up, in your opinion, drifting lazily into the real world from the depths of sleep with a smile on your face, and a bone-deep knowledge that you were right where you belonged.Â
But, somewhere between sleeping and waking, you realized something: Something wasnât right in your near-perfect world. Something wasâŠmissing.
Heaving a disgruntled little sigh, your hands went searching through the soft, tangled sheets and mussed blankets of the oversized bed, looking for the familiar warmth and weight of your trucker. But your seeking fingers came up empty, and the corners of your mouth tipped down into an unhappy frown when you realized what that meant.Â
Ari Levinson wasnât where he was supposed to beâhe wasnât in bed with you.
You huffed a frustrated sound as you rolled onto Ariâs side of the bed, burying your face in one of his pillows and inhaled the musky, masculine scent that was all him. Your hands were still searching in vain for your trucker, because you had to be sure he wasnât there, but refused to open your eyes just yet.
Another discontented noise slipped from your lips, muffled by the pillow, as you reached for him only to find nothing but cold sheets and empty air. The bed you shared with Ari at his cozy bungalow by the sea was large, especially compared to the bunk in his truck, but you knew before you raised your head and cracked an eye open that he wasnât there.Â
For a moment, you were overwhelmed with yearning to be back in the cab of his truck, where there wasnât as much space and Ari was always within reach. Youâd taken it for granted that your trucker was always so afraid of you leaving that he never left you alone for long.Â
If there was one major difference about being in Ariâs home after heâd completed the long-haul route where heâd found you, it was the sheer amount of space the bungalow afforded. Even glancing around the modest-sized bedroom, which the two of you kept relatively neat despite all the clothes and things youâd begun to acquire since Ari brought you home, it seemed like more space than either of you really needed.
Closing your eyes again, sleep still tugging at the edges of your consciousness, you strained your ears for any sign of your trucker moving around in the bathroom attached to the bedroom, or the living room or kitchen beyond. But there was only silence, nothing to indicate where Ari was.Â
All of a sudden, a terrifying thought occurred to you: Was AriâŠgone? Had he left you?Â
An inexplicable fear clenched in your stomach as you turned over, rolling toward the windows that overlooked the small backyard attached to Ariâs house. His pickup truckâthe one he drove when he wasnât steering a big rig around the countryâwasnât in the driveway or the detached garage.Â
The lazy weight of sleep cleared from your mind and body, quickly being replaced by panic and anxiety. Instinctively, your fingers lifted to your neck, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you felt one of your collars still circling your neck.Â
The chain was thin and delicate against your skin, but deceptively strong, unable to be broken without serious strength or tools. The heart-shaped pendant engraved with âBabyâ on the front, and âProperty of Ari Levinsonâ on the back, still rested in the hollow of your throat.
The collar looked like a normal necklace, but it had a locking mechanism that only Ari could unfasten. No one else could take it offâincluding youâand it was still on, which you took as a good sign.Â
Surely, if Ari had decided to leave you, he wouldâve unlocked your collar first. Right?
Despite the reassurance you felt from the collar around your neck, a sense of unease still settled low in your stomach, making it churn. Something was off.Â
Ari very rarely left you alone, and when he did, he always chained you up first. In fact, the only time heâd gone out without you was when heâd taken the cab of his rig to be inspected by the company he worked for.Â
Before heâd left, Ari had looped your thick black leather collar around your throat and attached it to a chain tied to his bed, with enough slack for you to go to the bathroom if you needed. Heâd left you with food and water and made the trek to the companyâs inspection location on his own, since bringing you wouldâve raised too many questions.
It was the longest the two of you had been apart since heâd picked you up off the side of the roadâand youâd missed your trucker while heâd been gone. Youâd happily accepted the collar and the chain and waited for him to return, because youâd known he would.Â
You knew how it would sound to someone else if you ever told anyoneâyou knew it was more than a little messed up, the lengths to which Ari went to make sure you stayed with him. But youâd asked for the collar, youâd consented to being locked up and chained to his bed while he was gone.
After a lifetime spent begging people to love youâeven people like your parents, who were supposed to love you unconditionallyâand clinging on to men who barely tolerated your existence until they finally got sick of you and dumped you from their lives (literally, in the case of your most recent ex), being with Ari was exactly what you needed.Â
It was what you wantedâa man who didnât notice how needy or clingy you were because he was too busy clinging to you. He needed you just as much as you needed him, and he was so afraid of you leaving him that you never had to worry about him leaving you.Â
Even after all your time together, Ari was still worried youâd run. He was trying to get better about trusting you, and believing you actually wanted to stay with him, but it was taking time. Thankfully, you had plenty of patience, and a deep desire to prove you were nothing like the people whoâd left youâor the ones whoâd left him.Â
As far as you could tell, it had been going well. Since heâd brought you home, Ari had been getting better about letting you out of his sight. Sometimes heâd leave you to read in bed while he watched TV in the living room, or let you shower on your own while he cooked in the kitchen.Â
But those were small steps. Leaving you home alone without a chain keeping you there⊠You had to wonder if Ari had forgotten to chain you up. Â
But it was hard to believe Ari would forget such a thing. He wasnât the type of man whoâd care about waking you up to put your leather collar on, and he was possessive enough that it bordered on obsession. You couldnât wrap your mind around the thought of your trucker forgetting to chain you up before leaving you on your own.Â
There was only one other explanation you could think of: It mustâve been a test. And if it was a test, it meant you could ace itâand you could show Ari that he could trust you enough to be there when he got back.
Still, you were curious about how much freedom heâd given you. You didnât think your trucker would actually let you leave, and you were half-convinced he was hiding just outside the front door or around the corner in his truck, waiting for you to run.Â
You decided to poke around and find the limits of the false freedom Ari had given you.Â
Throwing on one of Ariâs flannel shirts, you padded through the bedroom door into the open plan living room and kitchen at the front of the house. Biting back a smile, you darted to the front door and quietly undid the bolt, then grabbed the handle.Â
Yanking the door open, you half expected Ari to be on the other side, waiting to pounce and haul you back inside. But when you whipped it open, prepared to surprise him and jump into your truckerâs thick arms, there was no one. Just the front porch of the bungalow, with its swinging bench and the many plants youâd accumulated since Ari brought you home.Â
A fissure of disappointment wormed through your gut, and your heart panged with longingânot for the world outside the bungalow, but for your trucker. It had been a long while since youâd woken up alone, since before heâd picked you up off the side of the road and didnât let you go, and you decided, right then, you didnât care for it.Â
Tentatively, still sure Ari was lying in wait for you, you stepped outside into the warm, spring sunlight. The chill of morning was still clinging to the smooth wooden boards beneath your bare feet, but the sun and the sultry breeze off the sea were ensuring it would be a beautiful day.Â
You took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of salt wafting in from the ocean, and let a smile settle on your lips. You really loved the place Ari called home, and you were glad you got to be there with himâthat heâd let you make it your home as well.Â
Stooping down, you checked on some of your plants, still thinking Ari was probably watching you and waiting for you to run. But when he didnât show, you shrugged to yourself. With one last look around the neighborhood, which had long since woken and settled into their day, you headed back inside.Â
You locked the front door behind you and skipped back to the bedroom, more than happy to wait for your trucker to return from the comfort of his bed. There was still a fissure of unease in your gut, telling you something was off, but you chalked it up to the unfamiliarity of waking up without Ari.
Shedding the flannel shirt youâd donned to go outside, you dove back into bed naked, the soft sheets tangling around your bare body. Your face found Ariâs pillow instinctively, and you breathed in deeply, inhaling the delicious, familiar scent of his musk. The thick smell went straight to your head, making your thoughts a little fuzzy while desire bloomed in your core.
Ari was, generally, cleaner while youâd been at his house and he could avail himself of his private bathroom, as opposed to when you were on the road and he didnât get a chance to shower as often. But frankly, you missed the pungent, spicy scent of his sweat, the way his smell permeated every inch of the truck cab, surrounding you and seeping into your skin until you smelled like him, too.
You took another deep whiff of his pillow, where his scent was embedded deep into the fabric. A heavenly warmth flooded your body, settling between your bare thighs, wetness gathering at your slit. All from the mere scent of your trucker. It was pathetic, how turned on you were from Ariâs smell, but you couldnât help itâand you needed more.
You whimpered into his pillow, your lips parting and drool beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth as you inhaled his smell again and again. Need rolled through you like a freight train, your body reacting instinctively to Ariâs scent and preparing yourself for his cock in your cunt.
But he was gone, and you didnât know when he was coming back. You didnât know how long his test would last, how long heâd give you to run away only for him to catch you. But you were determined to be ready and waiting for your reward when he inevitably returned and found you still in his bed.Â
Your pitiful whimpers devolved into needy whines the more you huffed Ariâs scent. It wasnât long before your hips were rocking in a humping motion, though there was only air and the thin bedsheets for you thrust against. Neither were the thick cock of your trucker, and it made your mind even fuzzier with a desperate yearning for him.
Needing more friction, you rolled onto your front and dug your knees into the mattress. You shoved a pillow between your thighs that also smelled like Ari, and pressed your dripping slit down on the seam. You didnât care if you made a mess of the pillow, it was the closest you could get to what you really needed.
You squeezed the pillow between your thighs and humped helplessly against it, grinding your greedy pussy on its softness so that every thrust of your hips rubbed your clit against the seam along the side. All the while, you kept your face shoved into Ariâs other pillow, inhaling his scent like you were getting high off it.
The delicious friction of humping Ariâs pillow was enough to keep you turned on, but the plush softness was too yielding for you to get off. So all you could do was chase your pleasure even as it remained constantly out of reach. You were writhing like a mindless thing while you waited for your trucker to return.
That was how Ari found youâwith your ass in the air, hips humping his pillow, your face planted his other pillow while you moaned and drooled over the scent of his musk.Â
You didnât notice your trucker at first, and you didnât know how long he stood at the edge of the bed watching you, but when he spoke, his rumbling, familiar voice brought you out of the delicious daze youâd fallen into.Â
âWell, what do we have here?â Ari asked, a predatory grin in his deep voice.Â
You turned your head toward the sound of him, finding your trucker towering over your naked body, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a bulge already standing proudly in the front of his pants. He looked like a kingâa godâand you were more than happy to be on your knees in front of him.
âI couldnât leave you for an hour without you humping my pillow like a bitch in heat, huh, cock whore?â Ari teased, a cruel kind of mischief glinting sharply in his blue eyes.Â
That look sent a shiver of need racing down your spine, but you barely had a chance to let out a pitiful whine before Ariâs hand was wrapping around the front of your throat, just below your chin, and he was lifting your head from his pillow.Â
He manhandled your body into the position he wanted, sitting you up on your haunches, wringing a moan from your throat when the seam of the pillow rubbed against your sensitive clit. You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, noticing the moment his gaze fell to your neck.
Something like panic flashed in Ariâs eyes before they filled with rage, his gaze narrowing on the hollow of your throat.
âBaby, whereâs your leather collar?â he asked in a growl, his voice lower and more dangerous than youâd ever heard it. âWhereâs your chain?â
It was taking every single one of your braincells to resist the urge to paw at his cock through his jeans and beg him to fuck you, so all you could do was blink innocently up at your trucker, your lust-filled mind unable to understand why he was asking those questions. Surely, he knew where your collar and chain were. Â
âWhat dâyou mean, daddy?â you asked. âI woke up like this.â
Emotions flitted across Ariâs face, almost too fast for you to understand them, but you recognized suspicion and anger. Then there was something that looked a lot like a tentative kind of hopeâbefore it bled back into fury.Â
âYou woke up like this,â Ari echoed, each word bitten off like he was using his teeth to tear through stone.Â
It was only then that his expressionâstormier than youâd seen it in all your time with your truckerâand the tenor of his voice finally broke through the haze of desire that had still been filling your head.Â
You blinked rapidly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Absentmindedly, your fingers brushed the pendant in the hollow of your throat, beneath where Ariâs hand still circled your neck.Â
âI thoughtâŠâ you trailed off, coming to the realization that it hadnât been intentional. Ari hadnât been testing you. Heâd genuinely forgotten to chain you up before heâd left.Â
But that didnât make sense. He was terrified of you leaving him, of that you were absolutely sure. Heâd never forget to make sure you couldnât leave him. UnlessâŠ
Your breath caught in your throat and you hardly dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, Ari had begun to trust you. That somewhere, deep in his subconscious, heâd known he could leave you at home without chaining you up because he could trust you to still be there when he got back.Â
âIt wasnât a test?â you asked, your voice so full of hope it threatened to burst like a bubble in your face.Â
Ariâs jaw ticked with the force of him grinding his teeth, and he used the hand around your throat to tow you closer, his gaze unreadable as it roved over your face. His fingers dug into the sides of your neck, and for a moment, you saw something wild in Ariâs blue eyes, something that made excitement zip up your spine.
âDid you go outside, baby?â Ari rumbled, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice, a slight tremor in his words. âBe honestâbe honest with me right now.â
It spoke to how unsteady your trucker mustâve been feeling that he needed to urge you to be honest. But he didnât have to worry, youâd never even considered lying to him, especially not when you were so sure you were so close to earning a shred of his trust.
âJust to the porch,â you said, staring deep into Ariâs eyes. âJust to see if you were there.â You paused, remembering the disappointment youâd felt when he hadnât been there, waiting for you. âI didnât like waking up alone.â
Ari stared at you for a long, long moment. You held yourself perfectly still, your heart beating a quick, steady rhythm in your chest while you let him look his fill. You had nothing to hide from your truckerâhe was your man, your king. Yours. And you were his.
And you were certain, down to your very bones, that he was right on the precipice of finally believing you werenât going to leave him. You held that hope close to your heart and held your breath, imploring him silently to trust you.
âYou didnât run,â Ari forced out finally, his voice rough and gravelly as an unpaved road. âYou coulda run, but you didnât.â For the first time since heâd noticed your collar and the lack of a chain affixing you to the bed, Ari let his eyes wander down the rest of your body.
His gaze flared and heated as it roved over your naked form, lingering on the way your plush thighs were straddling one of his pillows. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a small smirk when he focused in on your pussy, pressed against the seam of the pillow, an obscene wet spot visible between your thighs.Â
âYou didnât leaveâyou got back into my bed and started humping my pillow,â Ari rumbled, a strange tenor in his tone, like he wasnât sure if he believed the words he was speaking, even as he saw the truth of them right before his eyes. âDid youâŠmiss me, baby?âÂ
Ariâs gaze flicked back up to yours, and the smile he gave you was devastating. Not just because he was so handsomeâit was, after all, the same smile that had lured into into his truck all those weeks agoâbut because you knew him well enough to see the insecurity buried deep in the depths of his blue eyes. He didnât believe you could miss him.
It occurred to you then that youâd never told Ari you missed him. Granted, he didnât often give you an opportunity to miss him, but even after the trip heâd taken to get his rig inspected, youâd been too distracted by his return to tell him how youâd felt while heâd been gone.Â
You softened at his question, a sweet smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Your hands reached for him, not out of habit but because you wanted to touch him, your fingers curling in the cotton of his well-worn t-shirt. You pulled him even closer to the edge of the bed, his thighs pressing against the mattress.Â
It was all too easy and enjoyable to kiss your trucker, to press your lips against his and smile as his thick beard tickled your cheeks. Ariâs mouth was soft and yielding beneath yours, and you took the opportunity to flick your tongue teasingly against the seam of his lips, grinning when he rumbled a hungry growl deep in his chest.
âI like you, Ari,â you murmured against his mouth before pulling back and staring deep into his eyes, willing him to hear youâto believe you. âAnd yes, I missed you. I didnât like waking up alone,â you repeated what youâd said earlier, your fingers tangling tighter in his shirt. âI didnât like waking up without you.â
For the first time since youâd met him, Ari seemed at a loss for words. He was quiet, watching you while his mind worked, and you were close enough that you could see the emotions flitting across his gazeâanger and disbelief giving way to something tentative and fragile.
Ariâs hand flexed around your throat, fingers digging into the sides of your neck so deeply, you went a little lightheaded, swaying closer to your truckerâs broad body. He used your closeness to sweep a palm down your spine and grab your ass hard enough to make you yelp, your tits pressing against his firm chest as he hauled you closer.
Then his mouth descended on yours and he was claiming you with a kiss. There was a feral kind of possessiveness in the way Ariâs lips devoured yours, the way his teeth sank into the soft, plump flesh or your lower lip, and the way his tongue swept into your mouth, plunging deep like he was determined to lick your soul out from your throat.Â
Ariâs kiss was an assault on your senses, immediately overwhelming, and it was all you could do to let your body succumb to the sensations, giving your body to your trucker just as much as youâd already given him your heart.Â
He claimed and he claimed and he claimed your mouth until your head was dizzy from a lack of air, and even then, Ari didnât stop until you were squirming desperately in his arms. Finally, he wrenched his lips from yours, leaving you both gasping for air, your truckerâs broad chest heaving in time with yours where you were crushed against his body.
âYou missed getting woken up with my cock in your cunt, didnât you, you filthy little slut?â Ari cooed meanly, pushing you back so he could grin at the kiss-drunk look on your face while he slapped your ass. âShow me how much you missed me, cock whore. Show me with that depraved little mouth of yours.â
His command was your only warning before Ari shoved you down to the bed, tipping your face up so it was level with his groin. Your nose nudged the bulge in his jeans, and you felt his cock twitch in response, making you smile and nuzzle deeper into his lap.
You werenât surprised by the shift in your truckerâs mood, or by the fact that he was steering you both back to much more familiar territory rather than confronting the implications of what youâd saidâor what heâd done by forgetting to chain you up before heâd gone out. Ari wasnât the type of man to talk about his feelings, but that didnât mean something wasnât shifting between you two.
Ari was finally starting to trust you, to believe that you werenât going to leave him. You were sure of it. You just had to be patient while he came to terms with it. And if that meant sucking his cock instead of talking more? Well, it wasnât like you didnât love having Ariâs cock down your throat.Â
You let the conversation go and pressed your face against Ariâs bulge, kissing and licking his hardness through his jeans, moaning when you inhaled the familiar scent of him straight from the source. Your fingers fumbled with the button and fly of his jeans, not bothering to pull your face away because you couldnât bear to move.Â
Besides, you knew Ari would give you a hand when he was good and ready. So you focused most of your attention on worshipping his cock through his jeans, running your tongue along the thick length of him through the rough denim, mouthing and sucking on the tip until the fabric was drenched in your spit.Â
Eventually, Ari grew tired of you whining for his cock and fumbling with his fly, and he took over. He made quick work of undoing his jeans for you, shoving them down his thick thighs until his massive cock bounced freeâright into your face.Â
The long, girthy length bumped your nose and you purred happily, kissing the base of his cock and flicking your tongue out to lap at his balls. Then you craned your neck up to look at your trucker, his cock laying across your cheek as a sultry smile spread across your face.Â
âI missed your cock sooo much, daddy,â you purred, giving Ari what he wantedâwhat he needed. You pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along the line of his shaft while smiling up at your trucker. âMissed waking up to your fat cock splitting open my tight cunt, missed creaming all over your big dick first thing in the morning.âÂ
You cut off your own gushing words by taking Ariâs flushed tip into your mouth and sucking him deep into your throat. The tension that had begun to bleed from his body while you spoke drained entirely as you bobbed your mouth on his cock. You gave him a sloppy blowjob, drool filling your mouth and leaking from the corners to make a mess of your chin.
Ariâs broad shoulders were relaxed and his big hands were holding your face while his head dropped back, a pleased groan tumbling from his lips as his hips shunted forward, forcing his cock deeper into your throat. You gagged, making wet gluk-gluk-gluk sounds as he fucked your throat, trying to loosen and let him deeper as your hips humped idly against the pillow still stuck between your thighs.Â
âSuch a hungry little cock whore,â Ari rumbled, his voice rolling over you like the crashing waves of the near-distant ocean, sending pleasure down your spine and making you moan around his big cock. âGood slut, take daddyâs cock deep into that filthy mouthâlemme fuck your throat like itâs a pussy.â
Your truckerâs hips thrust forward and he buried his cock all the way to the base in your mouth, using his grip to hold you down while you choked and gagged and tried to get used to the thick girth of him. All the while, Ari groaned his pleasure, enjoying the way your throat clenched around his cock, until finally you managed to relax your muscles.
When you blinked tears from your eyes, you looked up and found your trucker grinning almost affectionately down at you, his eyes glittering like the bright sunshine off the blue water of the sea. His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, then pushed it into the corner of your mouth beside his thick cock, feeding you your salty tears while he chuckled at the way his thumb distorted your face.Â
âAre you thirsty, too, kiddo?â Ari cooed condescendingly, barely waiting for you to even think about nodding before he was moving.Â
Pulling his cock from your mouth with an obscene wet sound, Ari lifted your head away from his groin, giving you a half-hearted glare when you whimpered pathetically at the loss of his heavy weight on your tongue. His hand wrapped around the underside of your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks as a slow, cruel grin curled his mouth.
âOpen up, baby, and stick out your tongue for daddy.â
Obediently, you did as Ari commanded, opening your mouth wide and pushing your tongue out eagerly, waiting for what you knew was to come. You watched as Ari gathered saliva on his tongue, your hips wiggling excitedly while he pursed his lips. You stared up at your trucker with pleading eyes.Â
Ariâs warm spit hit your tongue and you swallowed it with a pleased smile and a happy humming sound. âThank you, daddy,â you murmured, your voice husky from how roughly heâd fucked your throat. Then you opened your mouth again and stuck out your tongue, just like your trucker had trained you.Â
It made Ari chuckle, and the delicious rumble of it sent a shower of pleasure cascading down your body to settle heavily between your thighs, where your pussy clenched around nothing. A whine worked its way up your throat, and you squirmed in Ariâs hold, not able to ask for what you wanted with your mouth open and tongue out.Â
âStill thirsty, sweetheart?â he asked in that patronizing tone you loved so much.Â
You nodded your head as best you could with his hand still gripping your chin, but it was enough to make him grin and chuckle condescendingly at your eagerness. âThatâs my good slut,â he purred, shifting his hand and pursing his lips, spitting on you again.
Instead of landing on your tongue, though, the glob of spit landed on your cheek, making you flinch a little. Blinking in surprise, opened your mouth wider and stared up at Ari, holding your pose even with his spit on your cheek.
âOops, baby, I missed,â Ari cooed, his tone so unrepentant that you knew it hadnât been a mistake. When he gathered more saliva on his tongue and spit on you again, you managed not to flinch even as he missed for a second time. âFuck, I keep missingâguess Iâll just have to feed it to you, huh?â
Ari held your throat firmly in his grip while using the fingers of his other hand to gather up the spit on your cheek. Without warning, he shoved two of his fingers deep into your mouth, feeding you his spit while you choked and gagged on him.Â
More tears sprang to your eyes as he pushed the tips of his thick fingers against the back of your throat, making you struggle and squirm in his grip. But Ari was unrelenting, his blue eyes sparkling with humor as he pulled his fingers free, scooped up the rest of his spit and thrust back into your mouth.Â
âThatâs it, kiddo, take daddyâs fingers deep in that pretty little throat,â Ari muttered, his gaze bright and intense as he watched you try hard to take his fingers. âChoke on them just like you gag on my big daddy dick.â
Warmth rushed through your body at his filthy, degrading words, and you loved it. You loved the way he treated, you the way he talked to you, and you wanted to be good for him, to do as he said. So you steeled yourself, learning Ariâs rhythm and starting to meet his thrusting fingers with a forward bob of your head.
Ari laughed when he realized what you were doing, the pleased sound washing over you as deliciously as any praise, and the corners of your mouth tipped up in a smile while drool and spit and tears streamed down your face.Â
You were a mess, but you knew your trucker loved defiling your face and body, so you didnât make any move to wipe yourself clean. Your hands stayed curled in his t-shirt, clinging to your trucker while he had his fun with you.
âThatâs my girl,â Ari purred, pulling his fingers from your mouth and laughing huskily as you sucked in air. His hand squeezed around your throat until your gaze met his. âI take such good care of you, donât I, kiddo?â he asked, a wolfish smile spreading across his handsome face.
For some reason, Ariâs question struck a chord deep in your heart, and your breath caught in your throat. You werenât sure if there was a deeper meaning to his question, or if you were just reading into it too much, but it didnât feel like simple dirty talk anymore. Without thinking, you let the truth spill from your lips.
âYes, you do, daddy. You know exactly how to take care of me,â you said in a rush, the words nearly tripping over themselves in their eagerness to tumble off your tongue. âYouâre everything I need, youâre everything I wantâyouâre everything to me, Ari.â
It was the closest youâd ever come to saying how you truly felt about your trucker, and as soon as the words were out of your mouth, you went completely still, horror washing through your heart that you mightâve read the situation and his mood wrong. Your eyes went wide, like you couldnât believe what youâd just admitted, and waited for Ari to react.Â
Everything in your gut told you he was going to dump you, that youâd pushed him too far and he was going to retreat into himself and do what everyone had always done to youâleave. As the seconds ticked on, with Ariâs unreadable blue eyes raking over your face, you were more and more certain he was going to pull away and leave you all alone.
âFuck, I need to be inside you,â Ari muttered, something deep inside your trucker snapping.Â
Between one breath and the next, he was using his hand around your neck to shove you backward onto the bed, his big body chasing you down and climbing onto the mattress to cover you.
It wasnât graceful, the way Ari bullied his hips between your thighs, and it wasnât gentle, the way he shoved his cock into your cunt without preparation. A startled cry burst from your lips, but your trucker didnât stop, pulling his hips back and plunging into your pussy again.
It felt like he was splitting you open with his thick girth, but you relished the sting because it meant Ari wasnât leaving. Instead, he was pushing deeper and deeper into your body, like he planned to stake his claim on your heart, and build a home between your ribs.Â
âAri, please,â you whined, clawing at the t-shirt he still wore until he paused long enough to tear it off over his head. Then you pulled him back down on top of you, so his big body was crushing yours into the mussed blankets of the bed. âI need moreâI need it all, daddy. I need you, please.â
You pressed your face into Ariâs beard just under his jaw so you could whimper your desperate pleas and keening sounds straight into the pulse thrumming beneath his skin. Your ankles hooked around the backs of his thighs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, clinging to your trucker for dear life as he worked his cock deeper into your body.
âThatâs fucking right,â Ari growled, pulling his hips back until only the tip of his cock remained inside you, then his hips drove forward, impaling you completely with one brutal thrust on his final word.Â
You screamed your pleasure into Ariâs beard, the cry feeling like it was torn from your throat. Already, you were shaking and overwhelmed with the delicious mix of pleasure and pain only your trucker offered, but he didnât give you even a moment to acclimate before he started fucking you, words spilling from his lips.
âYou fucking need me, donât you, baby?â Ari seethed, biting his words out through gritted teeth while he fucked you in hard, merciless strokes, making you feel every inch of his thick length as it pounded into your helpless, greedy pussy. âYou need me and only meâand youâll never fucking leave me, isnât that right, sweetheart?â
Ariâs words were a condescending sneer, but you knew your trucker well enough to hear the need beneath his tone. He was just as scared of you leaving him as you were of him leaving you. He needed reassurance that you werenât going to abandon him, and you were more than happy to give it.
âYes, yes, Ari, Iâll never leave youâI need you,â you cried, tears streaming from your eyes as emotion and pleasure swirled dangerously in your belly. âI need you, daddy, I need you. Oh god, I needâŠâ
You trailed off as a wailing sob of pleasure worked its way up your throat, spilling from your parted lips. You buried your face deeper into Ariâs beard, trying to muffle your pathetic sounds, even as they spurred your trucker on, his hips snapping furiously between your thighs.Â
âCome, cock whore,â Ari commanded, fucking you hard into the mattress. âShow daddy what a perfect little slut you are, kiddo, and come all over my big, fat dick.âÂ
He was everywhereâhis broad body covering yours, hips snapping between your thighs to bury his thick cock deep in your pussy, hitting a spot that had your breath hitching on a scream. He wrapped himself around you, his biceps bulging deliciously next to your head as he held you in the cage of his arms.Â
Ari pounded into you harder, one of his hands finding your throat and squeezing the sides until you could barely breathe. His teeth nipped at your neck, the sting of pain adding a delicious edge to the pleasure, before he was growling words in your ear that would ruin you.Â
âCome for me, baby,â Ari cooed meanly. âWhile I split this cunt open in the way only I can, so youâll never forget that you fucking need me.â
With a strangled scream, you came undone, your very being unravelling at the unguarded emotion in Ariâs words and the perfect way his cock filled you, fucked you. Pleasure washed over you and through you, shaking you down to your soul while you came apart on Ariâs cock.Â
Black crept into your vision, and you didnât even care, your mind too focused on the bliss spiralling through your body. But before you could pass out, Ari relented, a grunt spilling from his lips as he buried his face in your neck, sucking on your pulse point hard enough that your pussy clasped weakly around his cock.
Ariâs hips stuttered in their rhythm before he pressed himself deep in your cunt, but you didnât feel the twitching throb of his release filling you. He squeezed you tight in his arms, a slight tremble wracking his body like he was exerting a great deal of effort.
As you came back to yourself, you noticed your trucker was still obscenely hard inside you. You felt strangely hollow without his come leaking out around his cock. A thread of unease worked down your spine, and you lifted shaking fingers to tangle in his hair.Â
âAriâŠ?â you asked, your voice small and anxious in a way you hadnât heard it since youâd gotten into his truck. You hated how uncertain and vulnerable you sounded, but in all your time with your trucker, you couldnât think of any time when he hadnât come inside you.
Before you could wonder what youâd done wrong, Ari lifted up enough so he could meet your gaze with his dark blue eyes. He shot you a depraved little smirk, something almost affectionate in the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.Â
âYou did good, baby,â he murmured charmingly, even as a little bit of condescension crept into his tone. âBut Iâm not done with you yet.âÂ
His praise soothed the anxiety curdling in your belly, and you were so preoccupied by your relief, it took you a moment to understand his words. You didnât think you imagined the perverted glint in his gaze, and an echoing smile tugged at the edges of your mouth.
Ari pressed a quick kiss to your lips. âI got something for you while I was out,â he explained, still remaining vague. âSomething to prepare you for when I take you to meet my friends.â
That statement piqued your curiosity, and you brightened at the idea of a present. While living with Ari, heâd made sure you wanted for nothing important, and got you little gifts sometimes. But it was rare for him to get you something for a reason so mysterious, and it made you excited to see what it could be.Â
âWhat is it?â you asked, your voice still a little breathless from your releaseâand from your eagerness to see what heâd gotten you.
Extricating himself from your body, and ignoring the low moan that slipped from your lips when he pulled his still-hard cock from your sensitive pussy, Ari stood from the bed. He shed what remained of his clothes, and grabbed a paper bag from where heâd dropped it just inside the bedroom door.
You lifted your head, but couldnât make out what was in the bag. To your surprise, Ari didnât immediately rejoin you on the bed. Instead, he stalked into the bathroom, as if on a mission, leaving you to wonder what on Earth he was doing.Â
For a moment, you were distracted by the sight of Ariâs naked body.Â
After so much time on the road, when you only got to see bits and parts of his bodyâhis bare chest with its thick coat of hair that felt delicious against your tightened nipples, or his tree-trunk thighs with their muscles flexing beneath your fingertips when he fucked your throatâit still felt like a treat to see his whole bare form so often.
And you were positively gluttonous for it. Your gaze raked down Ariâs body, appreciating the broad cut of his shoulders, every golden inch of his skin, every thick thatch of hair, every ridge and vein of his fat cock as it bobbed between his thighs, every sinew and muscle moving as he walked to the bathroom.Â
As he disappeared through the doorway, you got a good look at Ariâs ass, and you nearly whimpered at the sight of it. Wildly, you had the impulse to bite it, your core clenching and a sultry smile spreading across your face at the idea of what your trucker might do in retaliation. Whatever it was, you knew itâd be deliciously depravedâŠ
Those thoughts kept you occupied while Ari busied himself in the bathroom, doing whatever it was he was doing. Distantly, you heard plastic tearing open and running water, but couldnât fathom what it meant, not when you were imagining your trucker marking your ass in his own, filthy way.
You were so distracted by your fantasies, you almost missed Ari emerging from the bathroom. Once you noticed his appearance, you smiled at your trucker, your gaze sliding curiously to his hands. When you saw what Ari was holding, your eyes widened in surprise and your breath caught in your throat on a soft gasp.
âDonât worry, kiddo,â Ari rumbled in response to the expression on your face, a sadistic smirk tugging at his mouth. âItâll fit.â
Your gaze flicked between Ariâs ruthlessly handsome face and the positively massive dildo in his hands, not so sure he was right about that. Sure, your trucker had a big cock, and youâd even taken his fist before, but the silicone cock he was holding looked even more intimidating.
âOn your knees.â
It didnât surprise you that Ari wasnât giving you a chance to wrap your mind around the idea of taking such a large toy for him, but still, you were too distracted to follow his command immediately. Impatient for your obedience, your trucker stepped closer to the bed, grabbed your ankles and flipped you onto your stomach.Â
You let Ari manhandle you into position while your thoughts remained caught on the huge dildo he held. Even without your eyes on it, you could still picture it. It was the thickest, fatest cock youâd ever seenâalmost unnaturally so.Â
It was the kind of cock that could split you open, stretch you beyond belief, ruin you for anyone but AriâŠ
Somehow, that thought made your pussy pulse with renewed desire, more wetness gathering in your already messy slit and coating your already drenched folds. Your thighs were sticky from your earlier release, but already your body craved more.Â
Suddenly, you didnât care if that included the fake dick Ari had gotten you, even if it was going to take some work to take it into your body. Your inner muscles clenched around nothing, begging to be filledâbegging to be ruined by Ariâs cock and the toy heâd gotten for you.
As he arranged your body so that you were head down, ass up on the mussed sheets of the bed, you wondered which of your holes he intended to use the dildo on. Your body squirmed a little in excitement, your hips swaying slightly side to side as your heart beat excitedly in your chest.Â
Once you were in position, you heard the sheets rustling behind you, the slight creak of the mattressâs bedsprings, and craned your head to look over your shoulder to see what Ari was doing. You watched his large body climb onto the bed, moving as swiftly and gracefully as a predator as he got behind you.
Your trucker was wearing an evil smirk on his handsome face, which only deepened when he caught you looking. He laid the thick shaft of the sex toy in the valley of your ass cheeks, letting you feel the weight and girth of it while he grabbed your hips and positioned himself.
His knees dug into the mattress on the outside of yours, forcing you to press your thighs together. You knew the position would make you feel tighter for him, and make his cock and the dildo feel even bigger inside your body. Your belly swooped with another surge of excitement, your desire dripping from your slit and making a mess of your thighs.
âWhatâs the occasion for the present, daddy?â you asked breathlessly, trying to distract yourself so you didnât whine for Ari to fuck you already. âItâs not my birthday,â you said saucily, lowering your upper body down to the bed, arching your spine and presenting your ass for your trucker.Â
âThereâs no occasion, sweetheart, itâs to prepare you,â Ari reminded you, a depraved kind of humor in his tone. He gave your ass an affectionate smack, nearly dislodging the dildo from where it lay.
You only had time to giggle at the feel of your ass jiggling before Ari swiped the toy cock and shoved it deep into your pussy. Your laugh cut off in a scream, the thick intrusion of the dildo filling you up so suddenly, it punched the sound from your lungs.Â
In all your time with your trucker, youâd gotten used to Ari thrusting his big cock into your tight hole, but it felt different with the dildo. The feeling wasnât necessarily unpleasantâyou were plenty wet enough to take the thick toy, and it felt good to be stretchedâbut you still wouldâve preferred to have your truckerâs cock inside you than the silicone dildo.
âHnghh, daddy,â you gasped when you were able to suck in some air and breathe around the fake cock filling your cunt.Â
It wasnât like Ari to give you time to adjust, and sure enough, your trucker began fucking you in short, deep thrusts with the toy. But you were still curious about why he was using the dildo and not his own cockâwhy he hadnât come inside you.Â
âPrepare me for what?â you asked, dredging the words from the depths of your mind as you tried to continue the conversation.
Ari didnât answer you right away, focusing instead on fucking you harder and faster with the silicone cock. You melted into the bed, basking in the pleasure the toy offered and letting loud moans spill uninhibited from your lips. You were halfway to mindless when he finally spoke, ignoring your question.
âLook at you, cock whore, you really were made for thisâmade for taking cock and enjoying it,â he rumbled, something close to awe in his tone. He pounded into you with the dildo, and you were so wet, your pussy was making obscene squelching sounds that had Ari chuckling. âTell me, baby, dâyou like this toy cock better than mine?âÂ
There was a low, dangerous warning in the teasing way Ari asked the question, and your cunt clasped reflexively around the dildo, trying to suck it deeper into your body. Ari obliged, pushing the fake cock into your hole until it hit the end of you, then he bullied your cervix with it, adding a delicious edge of pain to your pleasure.
âNo, never,â you cried into the sheets, drool dripping from your parted lips and tears leaking from your eyes. âYours is the best dick Iâll ever have,â you gushed, the truth spilling easily from your mouth while your body took everything your trucker had to give. âI love your cock, daddy, I love it so muchânothing will ever compare. Itâs all I ever want for the rest of my life.â
Ari laughed, the sound mocking and a little bit affectionate, sending pulses of warmth straight to your pussy and heart. He slowed the pounding of the toy cock, changing the pace to deep, long thrusts that had you gasping and making the most pornographic sounds that had ever come from your lips.
âThereâs something wrong with you, baby, if you love my dirty, filthy trucker cock that much,â he teased in a patronizing tone that made you clench even harder around the fake cock.Â
Without warning, Ari brought his hand down on your ass in a sharp spank, but it wasnât punishingâit was a reward, one that he repeated on the other cheek, slapping you hard enough for the sound to reverberate around the room. It made you moan so loud, you almost didnât hear his next words.
âThereâs something wrong with you if Iâm what you want.â
Your heart squeezed in your chest and you whipped your head around to look at Ari over your shoulder. His dark blue eyes were fathomless as he stared into your face, a challenge in his expression. You realized, suddenly, that he expected you to fight him, to tell him there wasnât anything wrong with either of youâand you knew that he knew it would be lie.
Instead, you told him the truth.
âThere is something wrong with me, Ari,â you told him seriously, no hint of a joke in your tone. âAnd youâre a sick, perverted man for taking advantage of itâbut Iâm exactly where I want to be.â You folded your hands on top of each other and lay your cheek on them, giving Ari your most wicked smirk. âSo do your worst, daddy. I can take it.â
With a feral sound, Ari fell on top of you, grabbing your face and pulling you into a wild, unrestrained kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth and taking possession.Â
He kissed you as violently as he fucked you, pouring so much emotion into your mouth that it made your head spin. He was hungry, ravenous, and it was all you could do to meet him with your own desire and passion.
Finally, Ari pulled away and sucked in a deep breath, leaving you gasping. He patted your cheek patronizingly, more than a little fondness in the gesture.Â
âThatâs my girl,â he growled against your mouth, nipping at your kiss-swollen lower lip before finally sitting back on his haunches. âNow, letâs hope you got this toy cock nice and slick, sweetheart, because I forgot to grab some lube while I was out.â
You knew your trucker well enough to know when he wasnât telling the truth, and in that moment, you knew he hadnât forgotten anything. Heâd planned to use the dildo on your ass no matter how slick it was, and that depraved realization had you moaning low in your throat, the sound ratcheting higher into a whine when Ari pulled the toy cock from your pussy.
You barely had time to mourn the thick fullness in your cunt before the rounded head of the fake cock was pressing against the tight rosebud of your ass. You were no stranger to having Ari fuck your ass, and your body relaxed on instinct to make his entrance easier on both of you.
âBe a good slut and let me in, cock whore,â Ari urged, pushing the dildo into your ass. When the tip popped past the ring of muscle, you groaned obscenely, your body twitching at the thick intrusion. âGood girl, relaxâI wanna see your ass take your new toy to the root.â
Little by little, your body yielded to the dildo. You let out a long, loud moan as Ari filled you with inch after thick, rigid inch of the fake cock. You panted while it slipped deeper and deeper, until the flared base finally pressed to your asscheeks.Â
When the dildo was fully buried in your ass, you let out an exhale of relief, feeling proud of yourself for taking everything Ari had given you. You felt so full, even as your pussy clenched weakly, your desire dripping down your thighs and making them sticky with your lust.Â
But still, you knew Ari wasnât done. If heâd wanted to fuck your ass, he couldâve used his own cock. Your mind flicked back to what heâd told you earlier, about how he was trying to prepare you for something.Â
Suddenly, you had an inkling of what might be comingâespecially with your trip to visit his friends looming so close on the horizon. Your theory was confirmed when Ari sat up on his knees and lined up his cock with your pussy. You only had time to suck in an excited breath and angle your hips higher before he began pushing inside.
âFuck, kiddo, you feel so fucking tight like this,â Ari growled, his palms grabbing big handfuls of your ass, his thumbs holding the dildo deep in your hole. âYour cuntâs choking my cockâitâs fucking heaven,â he said, his words almost slurred with pleasure.Â
Ari used his grip on your body to pull you further onto his hard, thick length, wringing a pathetic whine from your lips while he groaned his pleasure loudly. It was right on the edge of too much, your ass stuffed full and his fat cock pushing deeper and deeper, filling you beyond what you thought possible.
âMaybe I should always fuck you like this, cock whore,â Ari rumbled, a hint of teasing in his tone. âFake cock buried in one hole to make you tighter for meâor maybe Iâll fuck you with both in one hole and fucking ruin you. Gape you so wide you wonât be able to feel a single cock anymore.â
A desperate, helpless whine caught in your throat at his words, at the unbelievable stretch of being filled with two cocks and trying to imagine both in one hole. âAriâoh my god, Ari,â was all you could manage as your mind was overwhelmed with sensation.
You felt your trucker everywhereâhis cock drilling deeper into your cunt, his hands holding your hips like he never planned to let go, his scent invading your lungs from the sheets pressed against your cheek. It felt like he was damn near imprinted on your soul with how thoroughly he was possessing you. Youâd never felt such exquisite ecstasy.
When Ari was finally fully buried to the root inside your pussy, he dug one of his arms underneath your chest, his palm skimming up the valley between your tits to wrap around your throat. Using his grip on your neck, Ari hauled you up, sitting back on his haunches so you were seated on his cock.
The position had his hard length and the dildo thrusting another inch deeper into your cunt and ass, his pelvis holding the toy plugged in your hole. You cried out, the pain-edged pleasure almost too much, making you squirm between Ariâs thick thighs at the impossible fullness you felt.Â
But your trucker simply banded his other arm around your waist, holding you pinned right where he wanted you, impaled on his cock and the toy heâd gotten for this exact reason. All you could do was pant through the mind-boggling sensation of being stuffed so full, your cunt dripping indecently as pleasure burned through your blood.
âLook at you, taking two cocks in your holes,â Ari cooed in your ear, his big hand wrapped around your throat like a collar. âYouâre such a dirty, slutty cock whore, baby,â he hummed, rolling his hips and fucking you in one, long, languid movement that made it feel like he was thrusting impossibly deeper into your body.
âAri, itâs t-too much,â you cried. Youâd lost control of yourself under the onslaught of pleasure, your hips wiggling, body writhing, fighting to get away from the overwhelmingly fullness between your thighs. You were in serious danger of blacking out from the devastating euphoria.
A deep, rumbling chuckle sounded in Ariâs chest, teasing down your spine. Then, your trucker slapped your tits meanly, his fingers catching cruelly on your nipples.Â
Vicious zaps of pain joined the storm of pleasure raging in your body and you screamed, your shoulders pitching forward only for you to be forced back against Ariâs unyielding chest. The ruthless pain brought you crashing back down to earth and you were more aware than ever of Ari, of his cock and the toy inside you, and you succumbed to him.
âNothingâs too much for you, cock whore,â Ari growled in your ear, a glimmer of pride in his words that was almost hidden beneath the roughness of his tone. âBesides, this is a fucking kindness.â He rolled his hips again, his fingers squeezing around your throat and choking you savagely while he used his other hand to abuse your tits.Â
You were helpless in Ariâs arms, and it felt glorious giving the entirety of yourself over to your trucker. You were his toy to use, and it made you feel good to be used, to be the filthy, depraved cock whore he called you. You were never happier than when your trucker let loose and truly did as he pleased with you, just like he was in that moment.
So overcome by your pleasure, you nearly missed Ariâs next words, but somehow they penetrated the lustful haze in your head.
âNext week, weâll be paying my friends a visit, and Iâll pay them for their services by letting them do damn near anything they want to you,â Ari rumbled, punctuating his words with rough thrusts of his hips, fucking you deeper with his cock and pushing the dildo in your ass. âAnd if I know my friends, theyâre going to get creative about how they fuck you.â
Your mouth was open, helpless whines and desperate moans spilling from your lips uninhibited. You couldnât control the sounds coming from your mouth, just like you couldnât control the way your body shivered and your cunt clenched hard at Ariâs threatening words. And he wasnât done.
âThey might split your cunt and ass open on their cocks, sweetheart, and theyâll care even less than I do about whether itâs too much for you,â Ari ground out, using his hand around your throat to tip your head back so he could meet your gaze out of the corner of your eye. âYou should thank me, baby, for preparing you with my cock and your new toy so they donât tear you apart.â
âThank you, daddy. Thank you, daddy. Thank you, daddy,â you babbled, sobbing your pleasure, your tongue loosened by the sheer amount of delicious delirium surging through your body. âYouâre so good to me, daddy, making me feel soooo goodâIâll do anything for you. Iâll do anything you say, Ari. Anything.â
That declaration, wrenched from deepest part of your heart, seemed to surprise Ari.Â
He slowed his brutal thrusts and pressed a finger to your jaw so he could look at your face more fully. He searched your expression, and you knew your devotion to him was plain as day by the way his eyes darkened in response. Depraved possessiveness twisted his features into something even more devilishly attractive.
âAnything?â Ari asked mockingly, a new edge in his voice. âWhat if I told you to leave, baby? What if I told you to leave me and never come back?â
You felt those questions like a punch to the sternum, stealing the breath from your lungs as your heart cracked in half. Panic like youâd never known before flooded your chest, tears springing to your eyes, and you couldnât help the way your body fought against his hold.Â
But Ariâs arms tightened around you, nearly crushing you with his strength, and it finally calmed you enough to realize your trucker wasnât trying to poke at your insecurities. He was laying his own vulnerabilities bare for you to see, and you knew your answer would make or break your relationship.Â
Reaching up, you cupped your handsome truckerâs face in your hand, your fingers threading through his beard until your nails could scratch lightly at his jaw. Normally, he mightâve leaned into your touch, but his eyes were fixed too intensely on your face, waiting too anxiously for your answer.
âIf you told me to leave,â you said slowly, picking your words carefully, âIâd leave, and youâd never see me again, Ari.â You smiled sadly at your trucker, showing him the tenderest, most scarred part of your heart. âIâve been with men who didnât want me beforeâIâve clung to them until they forced me to leave them.âÂ
Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, remembering the man whoâd tossed you out of his car on the side of the road. He hadnât cared about you. Heâd thrown you away like trash. And even though it had led to you meeting Ari, it still stung to know you wouldâve given everything to a man who never wouldâve appreciated you.
âI wonât make that mistake again, I canât,â you murmured, your voice breaking on your last word as tears streaked down your cheeks. Ari didnât wipe them away, instead he looked at them hungrily, like they fed something deep and dark in his soul. âI wonât ever leave youâunless you tell me to.â
Ariâs chest was heaving like heâd run a marathon, his breaths sawing in and out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. For the first time since youâd met him, he looked too stunned for words. You took the opportunity of his silence to drive your point home.
âI am yours,â you vowed, pulling your fingers from his beard and trailing down to the pendant around your neck, the one that listed your name as Baby and defined you as property of Ari Levinson on the back. âFor the rest of my life, I belong to you, Ariâor until you donât want me anymore.â
That final comment seemed to snap Ari from the daze heâd been trapped in, and his hand shifted from your throat to wrap under your chin, gripping you ferociously as his eyes bored into yours with their intensity.
âIâll never stop wanting you.â The words felt ripped from the very depths of Ariâs soul, his voice almost animalistic in its rawness. âYouâre in my head, youâre in my fucking skinâbaby, you live in the black hole where my heart used to be.â
Ari pressed his forehead to yours, and though the angle was awkward, youâd never felt more connected to your trucker. Your breathing synchronized, and it felt like even your hearts began beating in tune with each other. For a moment, Ari simply held you, like he was gathering himself, and you were struck speechless by how undone he was.
âYou are mine, and Iâm never fucking letting you go,â Ari rumbled, his voice sounding like the roar of the ocean during a storm. âIâll never tell you to leave me. Do you understand me, baby?âÂ
âYes, Ari,â you said on a sigh of relief.Â
It was on the tip of your tongue to tell your trucker you loved him, but in your heart of hearts, you knew he wasnât ready to hear it yet. So you held the words behind your lips and dragged Ariâs mouth to yours, giving him a filthy, messy kiss, conveying all the emotions that were too big for words.
When you broke the kiss, you pressed your forehead to his and, for a moment, the two of you held each other as tight as possible. You couldnât tell Ari you loved him yet, but you knew it was true, and you were certain heâd love you as well, if he didnât already. The thought made you smile.
Then, Ari was shoving you forward onto the bed, one of his hands curling around your throat while the other palm slid over your face, two fingers thrusting into your mouth and making you gag on them. He choked you and fucked you, making a mess of your face while you drooled around his fingers, muffled moans spilling from your mouth.
It wasnât long before you could feel Ariâs cock twitching in your cunt, a sign that he was getting close. You were stretched so tight around him and the dildo, you could feel every throb of his hard length, could imagine every drop of his precum leaking into your hole.Â
âRub your clit for me, cock whore,â Ari rasped meanly in your ear, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth and making you gag loudly, only to squeeze his other hand tighter around your throat, wringing the dumbest, most obscene sounds from your lips. âCome on your daddyâs cock, kiddo.â
With how Ari had your head bent back, his hand gripping your face, the position was awkward for you, but the command from your trucker was one you especially wanted to follow. So you braced yourself on one arm and reached under your body, straining until your fingers found the puffy little bundle of nerves.Â
You rubbed your clit just the way Ari wouldâharshly, mercilesslyâand even though your fingers werenât as big or as rough as his, the delicious torture had you clenching even tighter around your truckerâs cock and the dildo in your ass.Â
He groaned, changing the pace of his thrusts to be long and hard, hitting that spot deep inside you that had your moans hitching higher into helpless whimpers. He drilled into you, chasing his release, and it was all you could do to rub your clit and chase it with him.
âThatâs it, baby,â Ari growled roughly, bringing his head close to your ear so he could nip at the lobe before spilling even more filth into your head. âCome on the cock that made you into the dirty, perfect slut youâve become since meeting me.â
With a choked, muffled scream, you shattered apart into a thousand glittering pieces of pleasure, nearly blacking out from the lack of air and overwhelming euphoria. You hung suspended in the endless moment of bliss, pleasure pusling through every nerve in your body.
Your muscles clenched down hard on the toy in your ass, and your cunt strangled Ariâs cock, dragging him over the edge after you. He came with a rough shout, burying his face in your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin as he bit his mark into you, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his mouth behind on your body.
Together, you writhed through your releases, wanton moans and whines spilling from your lips while Ari growled a litany of mean praise into your skin, telling you what a perfect cock whore you were for him, doing such a good job milking the seed from his balls while your ass was stuffed full of your new toy.
Finally, when you felt entirely wrung out, Ari let you slump to the bed, a boneless heap of sated pleasure. Your trucker was surprisingly gentle as he pulled the silicone dick from your ass, and somewhat less careful when he slipped his own softening cock from your cunt.Â
He ambled to the bathroom, giving you a perfect view of his broad back, thick thighs and perfect ass, making you smile dazedly at the delicious picture he painted.Â
Once he was out of view, you heard the sink running and assumed he was washing the dildo. When he returned, Ari deposited the fake cock on the bedside table, then flopped down beside you, his chest still heaving slightly as he caught his breath.Â
Instinctively, you scooted closer, curling into his side, throwing one leg over his thigh, neither of you caring about the mess when you pressed your well-used pussy to his hip. If anything, it made Ari rumble a happy sound, his arms curling around your body, and grabbing a possessive handful of your ass while he held you close.
âTell me something,â you began, amusement and exhaustion clear in your voice. âDid you really want to prepare me for your friends, or did you just hate the idea that they might get to DP me first?â
Ari grumbled for a moment, and you thought he wouldnât respond, though you were reasonably sure you knew what his answer would be. But your trucker surprised you by hauling you closer, until the entire length of your body was pressed against the side of his larger, stronger form.
âYouâre mine, baby,â he growled against your temple, determination clear in his tone. âIâm gonna have fun watching those fuckers I call friends use you, but they donât get to do anything to you I havenât done already.âÂ
A delighted shiver raced down your spine at the perverted kind of possessiveness in you truckerâs voice and you lifted your head enough to meet his gaze. A smirk curled the edge of your mouth, a depraved challenge in your expression.Â
âDidnât you say something about how creative they are?â you asked, a teasing lilt to your words. As you watched your truckerâs face, his expression darkened. âYou might need to work a little harder to make sure they donât come up with something you havenât thought of.â
In a second, Ari rolled you onto your back and pinned you to the bed with his massive form. He wrapped one big hand around your neck, catching on the delicate collar still circling the base of your throat. He paused, his blue eyes flaring, and an obsessive, possessive emotion flitting across his gaze.Â
The fingers of his other hand slipped beneath the pendant on your collar, touch the words thereââProperty of Ari Levinsonâ. He traced the letters like he needed the reminder that you were his, that you werenât going anywhere.
A soft, affectionate smile curled the corners of your lips as you stared up adoringly at your trucker, patiently watching him work through whatever he needed to work through. Your fingers curled around his ribs, your thighs bracketing his hips and urging him closer, until his hardening cock pressed against your damp, swollen pussy.Â
After another moment, Ariâs eyes refocused on you and his mouth spread into a wicked smirk. He let go of the chain around your neck and reached for the dildo on the bedside table.
âIf you think I canât get creative, cock whore,â he began, pressing the tip of silicone dick to your lips until you opened and let him shove it into your mouth. It was so big, you gagged immediately, making Ari laugh meanly. âThen you donât know me very well.â
Even though his words were a taunt, there was an underlying insecurity in Ariâs voice that you couldnât let go unaddressed. Turning your head, you managed to spit the dildo out of your mouth and you reached for Ari, your fingers curling in his beard and bringing him close so you could look him dead in your eyes.Â
âI know exactly who you are, Ari Levinson,â you told him, conviction ringing true in your words. âI know who you are, and Iâm happy to belong to you.âÂ
You paused for a moment, letting what youâd said sink in. Ariâs eyes were almost unreadable, his expression a mask of stone, but the longer your words hung in the air between you, the more you saw that stone crack. There was a glimmer of something in your truckerâs eyes, something bone-deep and steady, something close to belief or trust.Â
It made your heart soar, thumping happily against your ribs, and you offered your trucker a soft smile. Your fingers threaded through his beard, nails raking lightly at the skin beneath. You brought him down for a gentle kissâgentler than any kiss youâd ever sharedâbefore your mouth curved into a small, devious smirk.
âAnd I know youâre going to fuck my holes every which way with that dildo and your cock,â you murmured into his mouth, bringing you back to safer territory. You didnât need a response to your declaration, just for him to hear you. âAnd I canât fucking wait for you to ruin me before taking me to see your friends.â
At that, Ari chuckled, the deep, delicious sound rolling over your lips and down your spine, making your pussy clench weakly around nothing. His cock gave an answering twitch and he pushed his shaft deeper into your slick folds, right against your puffy, swollen clit and dripping hole.Â
âYouâre right, baby, you know me so well,â Ari purred, a pleased tone in his voice, as he grabbed the dildo and shoved it back into your mouth, fucking you shallowly with the silicone length. âIâm gonna demolish all your holes with my cock and your new toy so youâll be ready to take good care of Lloyd and Curtis.âÂ
Your truckerâs eyes sparkled with something dark and possessive as he watched your mouth take the fake dick. He pushed it deeper with every stroke, enjoying the way you struggled and gagged around it. Tears streamed from your eyes down your temples, and drool coated your chin, but you finally took the dildo deep into your throat.Â
âGood slut,â Ari cooed, brushing a kiss to your messy cheek before rumbling in your ear. âYouâre gonna be a good toy for my friends next week, and youâre gonna make sure itâs worth their while to help us out, isnât that right, cock whore?â
Ari lifted up so he could look you in the eye while you nodded awkwardly, and mumbled your sweetest, âYes, daddy,â around the silicone dick in your mouth. Ari patted your cheek patronizingly, like you were nothing more than an obedient child and not a grown woman who adored him like he was your kingâwhich only made your pussy leak more between your thighs.
âThatâs a good girl, baby,â Ari rumbled, only a little bit of condescension in his tone. He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing it so you could feel your muscles clenching harder around the dildo. âKeep that dick in your mouth, sweetheart, while I destroy your pussy with my cock.â
With an eager nod, you pressed your fingers to the base of the dildo, keeping it buried in your mouth and throat while Ari focused on lining up his cock with your pussy. He pushed in with one ruthless thrust, making you scream as he filled your oversensitive hole.Â
The sound of your pain-edged pleasure was muffled around the toy in your mouth, but it only spurred your trucker on to wring even more noises out of you. Ari laughed at your silly, helpless sounds, fucking you harder and rougher while you choked on the fake cock, his grip around your throat making sure you never forgot it was there.Â
For the rest of the afternoon, Ariâs cock and the fake dick filled your holes in every combination your trucker could think of, devastating your ass, mouth and pussy until he was satisfied.Â
When the two of you finally gave in to exhaustion, it was with Ariâs cock wedged deep in your pussy, the dildo pressed between your tits and snuggled to your chest like a stuffie. His palm pressed the pendant on your collar into the hollow of your throat, and you knew youâd wake up with the words on the backââProperty of Ari Levinsonââimprinted into your skin.Â
Even in sleep, your trucker staked his claim on your body, possessing you in every way possibleâand you couldnât have been happier. He was finally starting to trust you, and you held tight to that knowledge, falling asleep with a contented smile on your lips.
The next evening, after recovering from your afternoon marathon of fucking, the two of you were in the living room watching TV. You were curled up in Ariâs lap while he sat in the recliner, his hand gripping your bare thigh possessively beneath the hem of the sundress you wore. Ariâs other hand played idly with the delicate chain of the collar around your neck.Â
Even after accidentally forgetting to chain you up when heâd gone out to get the dildo, he hadnât swapped the collar out for one of the others, which you took as a good sign. In fact, he seemed to take great pleasure in tracing the edges of the engraving on the back, the one that read âProperty of Ari Levinsonâ, which was what he was doing.
For the moment, you were content.Â
You were still a little sore, but Ari had been feeding you well to help you recover, and you were still mostly full from dinner. But when you heard the song of an ice cream truck driving slowly down the street, your head perked up from Ariâs shoulder and you glanced outside.Â
The setting sun cast the oceanside neighborhood in golden yellows and warm oranges, and you could already see some of the other residents poking their heads out, responding to the call of the ice cream truck on the spring evening. A child ran toward the sidewalk, happy parents trailing behind, a couple dollar bills clenched tight in his fist.
âOoh, ice cream,â you said, looking to Ari with your eyes wide and eager. âCan we get some ice cream, daddy?â you asked sweetly, only a little bit of mischief in your happy smile.
Ari huffed a sigh like he was put out, but you saw the corner of his mouth flicker and knew he was amused by your antics. He patted your thigh before grabbing your hips and helping you to stand.
âMy walletâs in the bedroom,â he said, giving your ass a little smack through your sundress. âGo grab it, kiddo.â
With a nod and a giggle, you scampered off to do as he said, plucking the leather wallet off the bedside table beside where Ari normally slept, and returned to your trucker. He grabbed a twenty dollar bill from inside and handed it to you before crowding you toward the door.
At the front door, you paused and looked over your shoulder, checking with Ari before opening it. When gave a quick nod, you turned back and undid the locks on the door before opening it and stepping out onto the porch.Â
Ari had been following you so closely, youâd assumed he was right behind you as you padded barefoot across the porch and began to descend the steps. But your shoulders were cold, Ariâs warmth nowhere to be found, and you froze, looking back.
Your trucker lingered in the door, arms crossed over his broad, bare chest as he leaned against the frame. His eyes were dark in the dimming light of sunset, and though you thought his mouth looked a little tight, he didnât look angry or worried you might run.Â
When you stopped and waited for him, he gestured for you to go ahead without him.
Your heart thudded happily in your chest when you realized what Ari was doingâhe was trusting you to go outside alone. Granted, he was watching you from the porch, and with the ice cream truck parked by the sidewalk in front of his house, youâd never leave Ariâs sight.Â
But it was still a big deal. In all the time youâd been with Ari, heâd never let you go outside unaccompanied. Heâd always been with you, his hand holding yours, or his palm pressed against your lower back, or the back of your neck. And if he had to leave you alone, it was only because you were collared and chained up in his truck or to his bedâexcept, of course, the time he forgot.
So you knew it was a huge step for Ari to intentionally let you go to the ice cream truck by yourself, and you were more than eager to show your trucker he could trust you.Â
A smile flickered around the edges of your mouth and you turned, walking determinedly down the rest of the porch steps and across the grass front lawn toward the crowd swarming the ice cream truck. You were intent on showing Ari that he could always trust you to come back.
You waited in line behind a few kids and their parents, glancing back every few seconds to make sure Ari was still thereâand he was, standing sentinel, watching you. It warmed your heart to know he was close by, none of the unease youâd felt that morning in your gut. You felt safe under your truckerâs watch, and you were happy to have him in your life.
Finally, it was your turn to order and you got two ice cream cones, paying with Ariâs money, then skipped back to the house, a bounce in your step. You launched yourself at Ari as soon as you hit the top step of the porch, and he caught you easily while you giggled triumphantly.
Your mouth found his in a bruising, possessive kiss, both of you claiming each other. It was apparently filthy enough for one of the older kids still waiting in line at the ice cream truck to shout, âGet a room!â
A surprised laugh burst from your lips while Ari shot the kid one of his darkest glares. Some of the other kids screamed and laughed, high on sugar, as they played in the lingering light. The warmth of the spring day was slowly slipping away, but everyone was happyâincluding you and your trucker.
Ari tugged you into the house and once you were safely out of view of the neighborhood, he tossed the change youâd given him on the kitchen island. Then he pulled off your dress, undid the fly of his jeans, and pulled you down to straddle him in his recliner chair. He settled his hands on your hips and impaled you on his cock while you held onto the cones in your hands.
The two of you ate your ice cream like that, not caring if it dripped down your chest or down his, taking turns cleaning each other up. When your ice cream cones were gone, Ari captured your mouth in a delicious, devastating kiss, and began to fuck you, bouncing your hips on his lap and dragging the most obscene sounds from your lips.
Your truckerâs hand wrapped around the front of your throat, just above the collar that designated you as his property, and he held you close while he filled you with his cock, and eventually his come.
Once you both came, you collapsed against Ariâs chest and let him use your body to keep his cock warm, reveling in feeling of being your truckerâs perfect little fuck toy. You were his cock whore, his baby, and he was your trucker, your king.Â
Even if your relationship didnât have the most conventional of beginnings, with Ari finally starting to trust that you werenât going to leave him, you were beginning to build the foundation of something real, something that would last for the rest of your lives.
You only needed to go see his friendsâLloyd Hansen and Curtis Everettâto get what you needed for the rest of your new life with Ari Levinson to truly begin.
trucker king masterlist
thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! âĄ
summary: when your already bad date takes a turn for the worse, the head chef of the restaurant comes to see what he can do to help. when he offers to give you a tour of the kitchen, you jump at the chance to escape, and your bad night turns into something else entirely.
warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), some verbal and physical abuse against reader during her date, reader sustains a minor injury (bruised wrist), some hurt/comfort, unspecified age gap, porn with feelings, kinda instalove, eventual smut, dry humping, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, big cock, cock warming, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, come eating, marking/hickeys, sorta scent kink, dirty talk, chef kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby), aftercare, happy ending
word count: 26.0k
a/n: it's finally hereeeee!!! i've been working on nothing else but this fic for the last month and it's finally done đźâđšđ it was inspired by Shawn Hatosy's Quinn audio (although i haven't actually listened to it yet). i just had to write something for chef!Jack Abbot, and i'm really happy with how this turned out! it feels almost like a smutty little romance novella, which i think is cool. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!
if you'd rather read the fic broken down into chapters, check it out on AO3
âHey, chef.â
With just those two words, Jack Abbot knew his night was about to take a turn for the worse. Nothing good could come from the underlying urgency and overt hesitance in the voice of one of his servers, Nazely Toomarian.
But Jack also knew, from his years as head chef and owner of one of Pittsburghâs most popular fine dining restaurants, Night Shift, that it wasnât Nazelyâs fault. No, it was very likely to be one of the insufferable guests who frequented his restaurant who ruined his night.
So Jack swallowed his sigh, kept stirring the sauce of that nightâs special, and glanced at his server, giving her a nod to go on.
âWeâve got a situation in the dining room.â
Of course they did.
Jack finally let loose the sigh that had been building between his ribs, wondering distractedly if the situation was some jagoff businessmanâs card declining, an impossible-to-please socialite sending every bite of her food back, or if another influencer was insisting on getting their meal comped in exchange for free publicity on their Instagram or TikTok or whatever.
Jack knew he was old and out of touchâthat was why heâd hired one of the daytime servers, Victoria Javadi, to run the restaurantâs social mediaâbut he also knew a scam when he saw it. Someone who genuinely wanted to work with him asked about partnership deals before eating an entire meal they expected to be free.
Grumbling about influencers under his breath, Jack gave the sauce on the stove one last stir, adding a little more salt, then handed the wooden spoon off to his sous chef, John Shen. Quickly, but methodically, Jack took off his gloves, turned to Nazely, and tucked his arms behind his backâa remnant from his days in the army.
âWhat kind of a situation?â Jack asked, his voice calm and measured even as he was already preparing himself for the worst.
The chef listened attentively as his server explained what had brought her back into the kitchen with that concerned look in her eyes. The frown on Jackâs face deepened the more he heard about the date going decidedly bad in his dining room.
Finally, Nazely finished up her story with a breathless, âDo you want me to have security handle it?â
Jack knew it was the easiest solution, to call security and have them escort the man creating the situation out of the restaurant. But it would cause a scene, and everyone else in the packed restaurant would be talking more about what had happened than his food.
It would be better for Night Shiftâs business if Jack could remedy the situation himself, as quietly as possible.
Instead of answering his serverâs question, Jack walked to the double swinging doors that led out to the dining room. He peered through the window, feeling a bit like a king overlooking his kingdom, and he had a sudden, fierce impulse to protect it.
âWhich table was it?â Jack asked, glancing back at Nazely, whoâd followed him to the doors.
âTable 12,â she answered quickly.
Jack looked out across the sea of glamorous guests dining in his restaurant, a swell of pride in his heart when he saw beyond the expensive clothes and glitzy jewelry to the smiles and laughter of people enjoying his food. In his heart of hearts, Jack just wanted to make food people liked eating, and it never failed to overwhelm him when he got a chance to see the delight he brought to complete strangers whoâd entrusted their time and money to him.
Pushing those thoughts and feelings aside for the moment, Jack focused back on the room, his eyes tracking along the tables until he found the one Nazely had indicated. For the first time in a long time, Jack Abbotâs heart skipped a beat and he froze at the sight in front of him.
The first thing about you that rendered Jack speechless was your mouth, the curve of your lips, the tension around the edges as you hid a frown behind a sip of wine. Jack knew, instinctively, that your lips would look gorgeous when you smiled, that your mouth would look exquisite while eating his foodâand he knew, too, that heâd do anything to make you smile, to feed you, to take care of you.
Jack shook his head at those thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the situation Nazely had told him about, the date going irreparably sideways.
Still, the chef couldnât help but rake his eyes over you, telling himself he was simply assessing how much distress you were in. Jack noted the stiffness in your shoulders, how you were curling in on yourself slightly, like your body was trying to protect itself. He also noticed the pretty color of your eyes, the curve of your cheekbones, the sweep of your dress at it fell across your thighs.
You were beautiful, enchanting in a way Jack hadnât experienced in a long, long timeâand you were miserable. That much was clear from your body language and the way you regarded your date with no small amount of disgust and fear deep in your pretty eyes.
Finally, the chef dragged his gaze across your table to your date.
Immediately, Jack didnât like the arrogant slant of the manâs shoulders, the imperious tilt of his chin, or the pompous way he held his glass as he spoke and drank. Even the way the man took a sip of wine, smacking his lips before resuming his tirade where heâd left off, made anger coil like a poised predator in Jackâs gut.
Something shifted in the man, and Jack looked back at you, seeing indignant rage boiling beneath the surface of your expression. Jack watched you say something through bared teeth, hissing at your date like you were trying not to make a scene.
Your hands were braced against the edge of the table, and you pushed to standâbut then your date moved to stop you, grabbing your wrist, and something in Jack snapped.
Later, heâd tell himself he wouldâve had the same reaction if any man had put his hands on a woman in his restaurant. But in that moment, he was driven almost entirely by the edge of something else threaded through the fury in his chestâsomething greedy and selfish that you, and only you, had inspired in him.
âIâll handle this myself,â Jack growled, tossing the words over his shoulder at Nazely without taking his eyes off where your dateâs hand was still wrapped around your wrist, holding you chained to the table like a misbehaving pet.
All Jack could think, as he strode across the dining room, his chest churning with wrath and violence, was that it was a good thing he didnât have a knife in his hand.
You were on the date from hell.
And the worst part? You werenât even sure when everything had gone wrong.
Was it when youâd let your coworker set you up with her boyfriendâs best friend, a man named Curtis Larsen?
Was it when youâd gotten your hopes up and donned your favorite dressâthe black fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places and showing off your legsâonly for Curtis not to say a word when he picked you up from your office building in downtown Pittsburgh?
Was it when you decided you could put up with his pretentious posturing about his job and his golf game to enjoy one night at Night Shift, the restaurant youâd always wanted to try but could never afford?
Hiding a sigh by taking a sip of your wineâa bitter red youâd never have ordered for yourselfâyou decided that was probably when things had gone wrong.
From the moment youâd gotten into Curtisâs car, heâd been nothing but insufferable. You shouldâve left before walking into the restaurant, but youâd heard such good things about Night Shift, and its head chef Jack Abbot, that youâd ignored your instincts and soldiered on.
You were rewarded for your selfishness by watching Curtis talk down to everyone he came acrossâthe hostess, who sat you in the middle of the dining room only for Curtis to complain you werenât in one of the booths; the server, who tried to recite the nightâs specials only to be interrupted by Curtis asking about a specific dish; the sommelier, who had to put up with Curtis acting like he knew more about wine than the man whose job it was.
It was all you could do to offer the restaurant workers apologetic smiles and slip them some money from your own purse when Curtis wasnât looking. You tried to grin and bear it, to soak up the ambience of the restaurant despite the black hole of unearned smugness sitting across from you.
Truthfully, Night Shift was spectacular enough to almost distract you from your horrible date and everything that was wrong with him.
The space was decorated in rich, emerald greens and dark, roughhewn wood, with real, lustrous plants and other greenery breaking up the dining room to give each table a pretense of privacy. Warm candles and low lighting gave the restaurant an intimate atmosphere, even while it was packed full.
All told, Night Shift was the perfect place for a date. It was too bad you were there with a man who mightâve been worse than the devil.
You were hiding another frown behind a sip of your disgusting wine when Curtis launched into a tirade about how the woman heâd marry should have a respectable job and make a good salaryâand sheâd also be responsible for keeping his house clean and taking care of his kids.
It took all of your self-control to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You werenât exactly surprisedâyouâd been set up with enough financial analysts like Curtis to know a lot of them were useless assholes who wanted a mommy more than a wife. But you could feel your desire to put up with the date for the sake of trying Night Shiftâs food slipping away, and you hadnât even ordered your appetizers yet.
Resolving to treat yourself to a dinner at Night Shift for your next birthday, you interrupted Curtisâs egotistical diatribe about modern women and tried to politely excuse yourself. You were kinder than you thought he deserved when you told him you didnât think the two of you were a good fit and it would save you both some time to cut the date short.
But Curtisâs eyes flashed in a way that had fear suddenly bursting in your gut, and his expression turned mean as he leaned forward across the small table, invading your space.
âThe date isnât over until I say itâs over,â Curtis said, his voice so cold, you froze in your seat. âYouâre not going anywhere.â
For a moment, you sat in your seat in surprise. Youâd been on some bad dates, and while some of the men had reacted badly when youâd left early, none of them had scared you the way Curtis was. There was something so aggressive about the way he spoke, and it was then that you noticed a strange haze in his eyes.
Was he⊠high?
Thankfully, a sever mustâve caught Curtisâs words, or his tone of voice, because she came over to check on you. Her brown eyes were sharp, but kind as they stayed fixed on you, asking if everything was okay.
âWeâre fine,â you told her weakly, giving her the most reassuring smile you could offer while silently begging her to help you somehow. You didnât want to make a scene, and you were sure the restaurant didnât want that either, but you would if you needed to.
Thatâs what you hoped to convey, and you thought the server mightâve understood because she gave a firm nod and headed off with a determined spring in her step. You saw her walk quickly toward the kitchen before your attention was diverted by Curtis.
âYou better not embarrass me in front of the staff,â Curtis was saying, clutching his wine glass a little too tight and swirling the liquid enough that you worried heâd spill some on the expensive decor. âI bring a lot of high-profile clients here, I canât have you leaving earlyâyou know how people like them talk.â
The fear youâd felt melted away in the face of indignant anger on behalf of the restaurant staffâwho Curtis had treated like garbage since heâd walked in. It was a miracle he was even allowed in the doors after what youâd seen that evening.
âWhat kind of people is that exactly?â you asked, quiet fury lacing your voice. You could put up with the indignity of being ordered around by your date, but you wouldnât sit by and listen to him disparage the people whoâd only tried to help the two of you that evening.
Curtis clearly didnât hear the warning in your tone, because he gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, gesturing thoughtlessly with his hand holding his wine. Some sloshed over the edge, spilling on the floor.
âYou know, low-class people.â
There was so much casual disdain dripping from his voice, you had to wonder, if Curtis was such a regular at Night Shift, why hadnât the sommelier poisoned him alreadyâitâs not like the world wouldnât be better off without your date, who was somehow still talking.
âThe type of people too poor to get a real jobâlike us,â Curtis said, fixing you with what he clearly thought was a winning smile. It did not make him look like a winner.
At the implication that you were anything like Curtis, your stomach roiled unpleasantly, and you were suddenly afraid that what little wine youâd drank was about to come back up.
That was it, youâd officially reached the end of your patience. You didnât care if it caused a scene, you couldnât spend another moment in this manâs presence without vomiting.
âYouâre a small-dicked, pathetic excuse for a man, Curtis Larsen,â you hissed at him, trying to keep your fury in check as you braced your hands against the edge of the table and moved to stand. âAnd I would fuck every one of the people who worked here before I let you anywhere near me ââ
As you pushed yourself up from the table, Curtis reached for you quicker than you wouldâve expected, snatching your wrist in his big, meaty hand. He yanked on your arm hard enough that you sat back down, biting back a cry as a jolt of pain shot through your shoulder.
âDonât you dare fucking try to leave,â Curtis snarled, his face contorted into an ugly mask of rage. It was clearer, in that moment, that he was high. It was making him more aggressive, so even when you tried to pull free of his grasp, he held on tighter, hurting you even more.
Just then, movement over Curtisâs shoulder caught your attention and your gaze snagged on a man pushing through the door to the kitchen, an air of violence and vengeance about him that made your heart leap in hope. He carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence weak-willed men like Curtis could only dream of, and he was heading straight for your table.
In the brief time it took the man to make his way through the dining room, you took stock of his appearance. The first thing you noticed was how handsome he was. Silvery, steel gray curls were swept back from his face, giving you a clear view of his sharp, hazel eyes, straight nose and a soft mouth bracketed by short stubble.
The man was clearly older than you, in his 50s, but he looked competent and put together in a way that had your belly swooping as your eyes raked down his body. A plain white t-shirt stretched around his bulging biceps, freckles dusted down his tanned, weathered arms. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were accentuated by the brown apron hanging from his neck.
Something about the man looked familiar, like youâd seen him somewhere before, but between the pain in your wrist, the fear inspired by Curtisâs aggressive change in mood, and the sudden attraction you felt toward the handsome chef, you couldnât place him.
At least, not until you looked back at his face and saw the intent determination in his expression. It was the same exceedingly hot look heâd been wearing in the photos youâd seenâthe ones in the article about Night Shift and its chef-slash-owner.
You realized, with sudden clarity, two very important things: The man approaching your table was the restaurantâs owner and world-renowned head chef, Jack Abbot. And he looked furious enough about the way Curtis was still holding on to you that he was liable to murder your date.
Jack Abbot could not kill a restaurant guest.
He could not. No matter how much that guest might deserve it for putting his filthy fucking hands on a woman in his restaurant. No matter how much Jack wanted to rip this guyâs head off for daring to touch someone as sweet-looking as you.
He could not kill a guest. He could not kill a guest.
Those words were a refrain playing in his head as he made his way to your table, the one with the situation Nazely had told him aboutâa situation that had clearly escalated to physical. Because your date had put his hand on you and all Jack could think about was murder.
He hated the way this pompous asshole was holding your wrist tight enough that it looked painful, though your face was a stony mask like you refused to give the guy the satisfaction of showing him heâd hurt you. And Jack especially hated the fact that heâd stupidly left his knife in the kitchen, so he couldnât cut off the guestâs hand for the crime of touching you with so much violence.
Jack was nearly at the table when he heard your date talking, and he immediately recognized the smarmy voice of Night Shiftâs #1 worst regular: Curtis Larsen.
In that moment, Jack knew he shouldâve banned the guy after the last time he came in, when heâd terrorized the staff and tipped basically nothing for their efforts. Well, that was a mistake Jack was going to rectify immediately, once he got you away from the shithead.
So focused on his thoughts, and trying to quell his inclination toward murder, Jack didnât fully register what Curtis was saying until he was right next to the table.
ââDidnât take you for such a cheap whoreââ
Any possibility of Jack politely interrupting Curtis went out the window when he heard those words. What came out of him instead was: âSir, you need to shut your fucking mouth.â
Jack was louder than heâd meant to be, making you gasp softly. His gaze found you, wanting to make sure he hadnât scared you, and he ended up getting lost in your eyes. They were bright and smart, and watching him with such a keen interest, it made Jack feel 20 years younger.
It was then that Jack really looked at you, and he realized just how young you were. Not young enough to make him feel like a complete creep, but⊠young enough to make him feel at least a little bit like a creep.
Especially when he raked his eyes down your bodyâtelling himself he was just checking to make sure you were okayâand he couldnât help but notice the way your dress clung to your curves, taunting him with how high the hem rode up your thigh. Your bare legs were a tease beneath the tablecloth, and Jack wondered if your skin felt as soft as it lookedâŠ
Reminding himself that you needed help, not to be ogled by a creepy older man, Jack shook himself free of the spell youâd cast on him with your wide, trusting eyes and your pretty, tempting curves. He turned to Curtis, giving the man his most fearsome glower, the one that kept the most unruly of restaurant guests in line.
âAnd keep your fucking hands to yourself,â Jack growled, making a point of looking down at where Curtisâs hand was still holding your wrist before returning his gaze to the manâs face. âOr do I need to teach you a lesson about putting your hands on woman without her consent?â
Jack knew he sounded dangerousâunhinged, probablyâbut he couldnât bring himself to care, not when his thinly veiled threat did the trick and Curtis let go of you like he was dropping a hot pan.
Something settled in Jackâs chest, and he felt soothed knowing he hadnât even needed to resort to violence to save you from Curtis. But that feeling quickly shriveled as Jack watched you bring your hand to our chest and cradle your wrist.
He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to wrap you up in his arms and tell you no one would ever hurt you again. Not on his watch. But somehow, Jack managed to keep his hands tucked behind his back, even as the tips of his fingers prickled with the desire to touch you, to soothe you.
Those thoughts and urges were troubling enough, but then you lifted your eyes and gave Curtis a withering look that had the other man cowering almost as much as he had under Jackâs glare. The chef felt a threat of pride weave through his heart.
Jack could see your strength, your resilience, and he knew in that moment that you could take care of yourself. You couldâve freed yourself from Curtisâs hold, you hadnât needed saving, but that only made Jack want to whisk you away all the more. He wanted to take care of you in a way heâd never felt before.
Biting back a sigh at himself, Jack realized one very important thing: He was a goner for you. Already. Even though he didnât even know your name.
Unable and unwilling to stop himself from acting selfishly, Jack held a hand out to you, giving you a soft, encouraging smile and nodding toward your hurt wrist.
âMy nameâs Jack, I own this restaurant. Can I take a look, sweetheart?â he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it, a low, raspy rumble that he hoped felt like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. âI used to be a medic in the army.â
It made Jackâs heart soar when you looked at him for a moment, like you were taking his measure, and decided you could trust him. Your fingers were soft and a little cold as they slipped into Jackâs plam, his own hand closing reflexively around them to warm you up.
Carefully, Jack turned your wrist one way, then the other, bending low over your hand to examine whether it was injured. All the while, he kept an eye on your face, watching for any wince or twinge in your expression to indicate he was hurting you.
Thankfullyâfor you, for Jack, and most especially for your dateâit didnât look like Curtis had done any real damage.
âNo sprain, just some bruising,â Jack said, giving your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze and lifting his gaze to yours. He nearly lost himself in the admiration and gratefulness in your eyes, but managed to continue. âI have some ibuprofen in my office.â
Your eyes widened a little in surprise, and Jack was forced to endure the torment of watching you nibble on your lower lip while uncertainty filled your expression. He understood your reticence to trust a man so soon after another had hurt you, so Jack tried to put you at ease.
âWhaddya say, sweetheart, do you want the kitchen tour?â
Jack shot you a cheesy, hopefully charming wink, and when you let out a soft giggle, shaking your head at him like you couldnât believe how corny he was, he felt like he was flying. He felt like he could soar above all of Pittsburgh with only the confidence he earned from making you laugh.
âThat would be nice,â you said, looking up at him from under your lashes. Jack was immediately entranced by your voice, by the way your lips moved as you spoke. âThank you, chef.â
It did absurdly wild things to Jackâs heart, which was already beating a fast, staccato rhythm in his chest, to hear you call him âchefâ. It shouldnât have affected him so much, it was a title he heard about a hundred times a night from dozens of other people.
But hearing it from your pretty mouth made Jack feel like it was a badge of honor, and he was glad to have earned it.
Distracted by thinking of ways to get you to call him âchefâ some more, it wasnât until you clutched his fingers more tightly that he remembered heâd intended to get you away from Curtis as quickly as possible. Using it as an excuse to keep holding your hand, Jack helped you to stand up.
When he was sure you were steady on your feet, after wobbling for a moment in your heels, Jack nodded to your chair and said, âGrab your things, angel. You wonât be coming back.â
Even though Jack was leaning into you when he said it, Curtis mustâve caught the words because his expression turned from icy resignation to red-hot fury as he pushed himself to stand. But Jack was quicker, putting himself between you and your former date, growling at the younger man before he could fully stand up.
âSit down, sir.â
A stunned Curtis plopped back into his chair. Jack raised his chin, staring down his nose at the other man while he tucked his hands behind his back, standing guard between you and your former date. Images of knives began dancing in Jackâs head, and he let it fuel the anger in his expression to keep Curtis in check.
Jack could sense you moving around behind him. Youâd dropped his hand when youâd turned to grab your jacket and purse, but you mustâve been done because you slipped your fingers back into his palm.
You grasped his hand tentatively, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, his heart soaring in his chest even as he continued glaring at the man at the table, who looked riotous at the thought of Jack stealing you away.
âYou canât do this,â Curtis snarled, trying to puff up his chest and make himself look big, even as he remained sitting in his seat, too much a coward to actually challenge Jackâs authority.
The chef responded to the other manâs posturing by looming over him, an unkind smile on his face. Jack was more than a little satisfied by the way Curtis cowered, just a little, in his seat.
âThis is my fucking restaurant,â Jack said, his voice even but ruthless. âSo let me tell you how this is going to go.â Jack kept your hand tucked in his, holding you behind him while he dealt with your ex-date. âYouâre going to pay your bill, leave your server a generous tip, and then youâre never going to step foot in here again. Do you get me?â
Jack watched emotions flit across the younger manâs faceâsurprise, frustration, indignation, furyâand he could practically feel the temper tantrum brewing, like a storm rolling in. But he could also smell the booze on him and, if Jack wasnât mistaken, he could see the telltale signs Curtis had been indulging in more than wine.
Night Shift really didnât need the scene or the paperwork that would come along with the temper tantrum, which would inevitably lead to someone calling the cops. So Jack went in for the metaphorical kill.
âIf I ever see your face in here again,â Jack said, lowering his voice even more so only you and Curtis could hear him. âYouâre going to pay for putting your hands on a woman in my restaurantâand Iâll take that payment with my knife.â
Jack watched as Curtis blanched, his tanned skin going ghostly pale as all the fight drained out of him at the threat of actual violence. The younger manâs gaze finally fell to the table, and Jack knew he wasnât going to challenge him again.
It was completely unhinged to threaten Curtis like that, he knew that, but all Jack worried about was that heâd scared you. When he turned to check on you, though, he found you staring at him with so much admiration, Jack wanted to puff up his own chest and take on every asshole whoâd ever wronged you.
You took a careful step closer to Jack, looking at him with those wide eyes, a smirk flirting around the edges of your pretty mouth, and wrapped your other hand around his bicep. âThank you,â you murmured for only him to hear, and Jack offered you an answering smile.
âReady to go, sweetheart?â he asked charmingly, squeezing your hand gently.
Your smirk bloomed into a full-blown grin, and he caught the edge of excitement in your expression, making Jackâs heart thump harder in his chest. He could hardly believe someone as young and beautiful and strong as you wanted to go anywhere with him. Not only did you look like you wanted it, you looked eager for it.
âYes, please, chef,â you purred, the sound of your voice calling him âchefâ again going straight to his dick.
Oh yeah, Jack was definitely a goner for you.
You could hardly believe how drastically the course of your night had changed in just a few minutes.
Youâd gone from being on the absolute worst date of your life, trying to figure out how you were going to get away from the man whoâd accosted you, to being on the arm of one of the most talentedâand handsomeâhead chefs in all of Pittsburgh.
Jack Abbotâs hand was warm and strong in yours, his stride steady and determined as he led you through the dining room toward the kitchen. His presence at your side helped to settle the wobbliness you felt in the wake of the fear and adrenaline that had rushed through you when Curtis had grabbed you.
Leaning further into Jackâs side, you got a hint of his scentâfresh laundry something earthy, like sage or rosemaryâand you let it stoke the little ember of interest that burned deep your core, the one that had flared to life when you watched the chef put your date in his place.
What did it say about you that you thought it was inexplicably hot the way Jack had threatened Curtis with his knife? What did it say about you that you felt safer with Jack than you had with any man youâd ever gone out with?
With those questions rattling around in your head, you were glad that Jack didnât try to make conversation beyond asking for your name as he guided you to the kitchen. He seemed to understand you needed a moment to process everything thatâd happened, and he remained quiet as the two of you walked together through the crowded dining room, the soft chatter of the other diners filling the silence so it wasnât awkward.
When Jack pushed through the double swinging doors to the kitchen, the gentle murmur of the restaurantâs dining room gave away to the chaos of the kitchen. Immediately, you felt the buzzy, almost electric energy, of the staff, and you took your first full breath since youâd walked into Night Shift, something about the kitchen making you feel like you were coming home.
Your eyes were opened wide as you looked around because there was so much to take inâa whole army of chefs and cooks moved around the silver metal tables and big, gas range stoves, grabbing things out of fridges, chopping vegetables and searing meat. It was like a masterfully choreographed dance, the way everyone moved around each other.
And it smelled divine. Herbs and spices and so many other scents filled your nose, making your mouth water and your stomach grumble, though there was no way anyone could hear it over the noiseâthe clatter of knives and pans, the people calling out orders, the slamming of fridge doors.
Everything seemed to revolve around on particular chef, an Asian man spooning some sauce onto a plate and conferring with a Black woman. He was the calm in the center of the storm, obviously running things while Jack had been dealing with your date.
The head chef himself tugged you to the side of the room, pulling you out of the way of the steady stream of servers coming in and out of the double doors, carrying big trays filled with all kinds of dishesâsalads and seafood, pasta and chicken. All of it smelled amazing, looked amazing, and it was all you could do to stare around the kitchen with awe no doubt written plainly on your face.
Gradually, you became aware of Jackâs gaze on your face, and when you looked at the chef, you found him watching you closely, so much intensity in his hazel eyes, it made you feel a little shy. Here was this older, accomplished chef, and he was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in his entire kitchenâhis entire restaurant.
You offered him a tentative smile, your heart skipping a beat when he towed you just a little closer by your still clasped hands.
âWhat do you think, sweetheart?â Jack asked, and you could tell by the tenor of his voice that he actually cared about your answer. He sounded worried, hopeful, and so achingly interested that it made you unsteady on your feet.
âI think itâs amazing,â you answered honestly, your voice more than a little breathless with wonder. You leaned further into his side, staring into his eyes and getting a little lost in them. âEverything looks and smells delicious, chef.â
A small, pleased smile curved Jackâs mouth, even as his eyes darkened at what youâd called him. It stole the breath from your lungs, the knowledge that you could affect him so clearly just by calling him âchefâ. It made you want to say it more, to say it while his mouth was on your body, just to see if you could drive him wildâŠ
Tension crackled between the two of you, sharp and electric, sucking all the oxygen out of the room so it became a little hard to breathe normally. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your legs trembled, and still, you couldnât tear your eyes away from Jack, your gaze drifting down to his mouth and the silvery stubble that surrounded it.
âJack?â you murmured his name softly, a question in the single syllable, as you raised your eyes back to his. There was an answer in his gaze, in the way his own eyes dropped to your lips and back up, like he was fighting the same urge as you.
âEverything good, chef?â
You and Jack jumped apart, your hands disentangling as you put a respectable amount of space between your bodies. You watched Jack straighten, his expression shifting into something much more professional, much more appropriate for his workplace, as he turned to the room.
âGimme a few more minutes, chef,â Jack called back to the Asian man whoâd addressed him. You got the sense that the man was amused by the two of you, even though his face remained unreadable. âIâll be back to dig you out of the hole of the dinner rush.â
The man who mustâve been Jackâs sous chef huffed a laugh and, without looking up from the dish he was plating, said, âDonât worry about us, old man. Weâve got this.â
âWhoâs he calling old?â Jack muttered under his breath, making a laugh burst from your lips at how disgruntled he sounded. A smirk flickered at the edge of Jackâs mouth, like he couldnât help himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement, and he leaned closer to you. âDo you think Iâm old, angel?â
Jackâs voice was little more than a rasp, and you swore that you could feel it skim down your spine and settle deep in your core, where heat was blooming hotter. All you could do was stare at Jack, at the weathered lines of his freckled face, and the silver curls that you wanted to run your fingers through, as you tried to think of something to say.
A little lop-sided smile tilted Jackâs mouth, like he could somehow see the odd mixture of awe and lust swirling in your body, in your brain, making you tongue-tiedâand he didnât hold it against you. âDonât answer that,â he grumbled good-naturedly, his eyes still fixed on your face.
The two of you hung suspended in that moment for longer than was strictly necessary, the hustle and bustle of the kitchen fading away, until you finally remembered how to speak. Though once the words came out of your mouth, you wished youâd stayed silent.
âI donât think youâre too old.â
That statement got Jackâs attention in a way you hadnât experienced in all the short time youâd been in his presence. His eyes darkened, dropping to your lips once again before dragging their way back to meet your gaze. A charming grin made his mouth look far too tempting.
âToo old for what, angel?â Jack asked innocently, a hint of playful teasing in his tone that had your body burning hotter. His dark hazel eyes were knowingâlike he knew what you really meant to say, that you didnât think he was too old for you.
But you couldnât say that, couldnât answer him. You already felt like youâd said too much, and there were too many emotions still swirling around in your chest, in your belly, between your thighs, to make sense of any of them.
Thankfully, Jack seemed to understand you were overwhelmed and he didnât push it. Instead, he pressed a hand to your lower back, the heat of his palm scorching through the thin fabric of your dress, even in the warmth of the kitchen. He guided you gently to a narrow doorway tucked into the corner of the kitchen you hadnât noticed before.
Jack led you into a small office that you knew immediately was his. The space was nice and neat, just like his kitchen, with homey touches that reflected the dining room of his restaurant with emerald green walls and a dark wooden desk, which held a few framed photos and other keepsakes alongside his paperwork and computer.
Also, it smelled like himâfresh and clean, with just a hint of garlic and sage.
The room was small, barely big enough for a desk, chair and a couple of filing cabinets, but it was cozy, and you felt just as safe in Jackâs office as you did in his presence. Being away from the loud clamor of the kitchen also helped to settle your nerves and, without being invited to, you sank into the chair, leaving Jack to lean against the edge of his desk.
âHowâre you holding up, sweetheart?â Jack asked gently, crossing his arms over his chest and ducking down to catch your eye. You gave him a weary smile.
âIâm ok,â you said, then paused to take stock of yourself to see if that was really true. âA little shaken, a lot hungry,â your smile tured rueful. âI was really looking forward to trying your food,â you told him, dropping your gaze to where your hands were twisted together in your lap. âBut we didnât even make it to the appetizers.â
Jack shifted closer to you, his knee nudging lightly against yours, and you felt a little zing of happiness at even that small touch. You almost huffed a laugh at yourself for the silly crush you were developing on the hot, older chef, but managed to bite it back and looked up at the man whoâd so gently gotten your attention.
âIf you want to go home, I can have security escort you out back,â Jack started, his mouth twisting into the vague impression of a frown, like he didnât particularly like that idea. âOr, if you want, you can hang out in here, I can make you something to eat, and then later, I can give you that kitchen tour.â
He shot you another one of those exaggerated winks and you couldnât help but giggle softly. Jack was charming and he knew it, and if you werenât careful, you were definitely going to develop a big olâ crush on the man. He made it too easy to feel comfortable around him.
âItâs your choice, sweetheart,â Jack said, pausing for a moment like he wasnât sure if he should go on, but then he did. âI do hope youâll let me cook for you, though.â He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against the edge of your jaw, his touch so light you could barely feel it. âI donât like the idea of sending you home hungry.â
Before you could lean into Jackâs hand, he snatched it back, like he was worried heâd crossed a line. He crossed his arms more tightly across his chest, his hands tucked away as if he was worried they couldnât be trusted not to touch you again, and you had to smile.
Maybe it wasnât the worst idea in the world to develop a crush on the hot, older chef whoâd saved you from the worst date of your lifeâespecially since it seemed like the hot, older chef was having trouble keeping his gentle hands off you.
âIâd like to stay,â you murmured, looking up at Jack from under your lashes.
Almost against your will, your body swayed closer to the charming chef, your hand reaching out to wrap around his forearm. The light dusting of Jackâs hair tickled your fingers, and you couldnât help but notice how strong and firm his arm was beneath your palm.
Your lips quirked into a small smile, putting a little flirty edge on your words as you said, âIf you donât mind, chef.â
Jackâs eyes were dark, liquid heat as he stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered wildly if he might kiss you. The thought had excitement fluttering to life in your belly, but before you could get your hopes up too high, Jack swallowed and looked away. It was only then that you noticed the faint flush pinkening his cheeks.
âMake yourself comfortable, sweetheart,â Jack said, pushing away from the desk and stepping toward the door. âIbuprofenâs in the top drawer.â
The movement had your hand dropping from his arm and you immediately missed the warmth of his skin. When he looked back at you, he mustâve caught something on your face, something that had him cracking a small smile.
âIâll be back soon, alright?â His voice was a little rough, teasing your body with its low tenor, but you managed a smile and a nod.
âIâll be here,â you said, as brightly as you could. âThank you, Jack.â
Jack looked at you another moment, his eyes going a little soft, before he ducked through the office door. He pulled it most of the way closed behind him, leaving it open just a crack, somehow knowing you wanted some peace, but not to be cut off from the kitchenâfrom himâentirely.
Left alone to your own devices, you only had your own thoughts as company. You knew your brain wanted to spiral about your dateâWhy hadnât you seen the red flags from Curtis earlier? Why hadnât you cut the date short sooner?âbut instead you focused on what was in front of you.
Tossing your purse and jacket onto the desk, you got comfortable in Jackâs chair, leaning back and noticing a leather jacket thrown over the back. Shooting a quick glance at the door to make sure no one could see in, you tucked your face into the collar and breathed in, a smile curving your lips as you inhaled Jackâs clean, earthy scent.
Once youâd had your fillâor, rather, once your shame caught up with you and you forced yourself to stop sniffing the hot, older chefâs jacket like a mindless hussyâyou let your eyes roam around the room, taking in the almost military precision of the organization in the office.
The desk was mostly clear, save for the keyboard attached to his computer monitor, and a stack of order forms for things for the restaurant. There were also the photos and keepsakes. You picked them up one by one, looking closely at the people and things Jack cared about, not bothering to feel bad about your nosiness.
The first photo was of Jack and his whole kitchen crew at the opening of Night Shift, looking worn out but exultant in their success. Another photo depicted Jack with a man about his age, tall with brown hair and a salt and pepper beard, standing next to a motorcycle. They had their arms slung around each other like they were old friends.
Next, your fingers trailed over a medal of honor that was tucked into a corner of the desk. It was purple and gold, in the shape of a heart with a manâs side profile in the center. You remembered Jackâs comment about being in the army and wondered what had earned him the medal.
Feeling like youâd possibly overstepped, you set the medal back in its place on Jackâs desk and focused on finding the ibuprofen. After taking the pills with the glass of water heâd grabbed for you from the kitchen, you snuggled deeper into his chair, your head falling back against the collar of the chefâs leather jacket.
It occurred to you suddenly that you really liked Jack Abbot. You hadnât known him for long, and you didnât know all that much about him, but you wanted to.
You wanted to know why heâd named his restaurant Night Shift, and why heâd become a chef after being a medic in the army. You wanted to know what his favorite thing to cook was, and whether he needed readers to read texts on his phone.
You wanted to know if he was going to ask you for your number.
That thought made you stop and smile as you considered what youâd do if Jack asked for you number and actually used it. Your fingers played idly with the soft, supple leather of his jacket, letting the sounds of the kitchen lull you into deeper comfort as you imagined what it would be like to date world-renowned chef Jack Abbot.
You suspected it would be a helluva lot better than going on a date with Curtis Larsen, that was for sure.
Jack Abbot could not be interested in the young, pretty restaurant guest heâd saved from a bad date.
He paused just outside the door to his office, trying to get his head on straight, but all he could think about was the way youâd looked at him, like you were attracted to him, like you trusted him to take care of you. His fingers flexed at his side, and he could still feel the softness of your skin beneath his grazing touchâso pretty, so tempting.
His mind was consumed with the sweetness of your scent filling his office, invading his private space, and how much that pleased him. Jack already knew that scent would haunt him for the rest of the evening, that heâd fall asleep just to dream of you.
Wiping a hand down his face, Jack felt like a creep for even thinking about how you smelled, how your hand felt like a perfect fit in his own, how he wanted you to look at him with nothing but lust in your eyes. He was supposed to be helping you, taking care of you, making sure you got home safe, not thinking about what itâd feel like to put his hands on your body and pull you closeâŠ
With a hard shake of his head, Jack refocused on the task at handâmaking you something to eatâand strode back into the kitchen. He walked up to stand beside his sous chef, who was busy plating a whole tray of that nightâs special. John didnât even look up as Jack approached.
âHow are things looking?â Jack asked, busying his hands by retying the strings of his apron while he took a look at the line of orders still needing to be made. It was a busy Friday night at Night Shift, but his sous chef was keeping on top of things.
âDonât worry about us, chef, we got this,â John said, before raising his voice and calling out to the rest of the kitchen staff. âDonât we, nightcrawlers?â
âHoo-rah!â came the answering reply and Jack had to twist his lips to the side to hide the proud smile that wanted to break through. Annoyingly, John noticed.
âSeriously,â John said, straightening up and setting the last of the plates onto a tray for a server to take them out into the dining room. He turned to Jack. âIâve got this under control, if thereâs somewhere else youâd rather be.â
Johnâs eyes drifted over Jackâs shoulder in the direction of the office before returning his gaze to the head chef and waggling his brows a little.
âI wonât take it personally if thereâs someone else youâd rather be with than me,â the sous chef quipped, grabbing his Dunkinâ Donuts iced coffee from the shelf over the worktable and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.
âItâs not like that,â Jack grumbled, hoping to nip that thread of conversation in the bud before it began. The last thing he needed was for his business with you to get around the kitchen. Everyone who worked at Night Shift were talented, good people, but they gossiped more than little old ladies.
Jack tugged on some black nitrile gloves and grabbed a knife and cutting board. But when he returned to his station with the ingredients heâd need for what he planned to cook you for dinner, John was giving him a skeptical look.
âRight,â John said, not dropping the subject, no matter that Jack was no longer looking at him and was instead focused entirely on chopping up some rosemary and garlic. âThatâs why you stepped in and took care of her date instead of letting security handle it.â
Johnâs tone was dry enough to give the Sahara a run for its money, but Jack refused to rise to the bait. Huffing an exaggeratedly beleaguered sigh, John cut to the chase. âDo you know her or something?â
âNo,â Jack said quicklyâtoo quickly, he knew. He could feel Johnâs indefatigable gaze drilling into the side of his head while he worked. He knew John wouldnât give up the interrogation until he got something so Jack finally admitted, âBut⊠maybe I want to get to know her.â
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a wide grin spread across his sous chefâs face a moment before John clapped him on the shoulder. âThatâs great, chef,â he said, but he mustâve noticed Jack wasnât grinning along with him because he asked, âIt is great, isnât it? I mean, itâs been a while for you, hasnât it?â
âSheâs too young for me, man,â Jack said, his voice harsher than heâd intended. He paused, swallowing, then grabbed a pan and some chicken cutlets, getting to work breading and seasoning them. âBesides, sheâs had a rough nightâthat jackass grabbed her.â Jack had to stop again and take a breath to contain his anger before he went on. âShe doesnât need some old man creeping on her, too.â
âDude,â John started, before getting distracted by plating up a new round of orders. It took him a moment to get back to the conversation. âYouâre not that old,â he said, shooting Jack a look like the head chef should know all his âold manâ comments were in good fun. âAnd if you think sheâs not interested, you didnât see the way she was looking at you.â
At Johnâs comment, Jack fumbled the pan he was cooking in, nearly spilling oil and chicken into the fire of the stove. He glanced at John, back to what he was doing, then to his sous chef again, who was watching him with a not-so-small smirk on his face.
âH-how was she looking at me?â Jack finally asked, unable to stop himself, not even daring to hope John wasnât somehow fucking with him.
Sure, Jack knew youâd wrapped yourself around his arm while heâd walked you back to the kitchen, and he couldnât get the memory of the way youâd touched his arm out of your head. But that wasnât flirting⊠was it? And certainly there wasnât anything particularly interested in the way youâd looked at him. Right?
Johnâs incredulous look told him otherwise. âJack, the girl practically had hearts in her eyes when she looked at you,â he said, and when Jack opened his mouth to protest, he cut him off. âSheâs into you, dude.â
âWhat, noâno, no, sheâs justâŠâ Jack couldnât believe how idiotic he sounded, fumbling around his own kitchen while John tried to tell him you were interested. It was like he was a young, inexperienced teenager all over again with his first crush, disbelieving she could ever like him back.
âEllis, back me up,â John was saying, calling over one of Night Shiftâs senior chefs while he set a new round of plated meals onto a tray for a server. âThe girl Jack brought back here had heart eyes for our head chef, didnât she?â
It was only his decades of experience that allowed Jack to continue cookingâboiling water and adding pasta, mixing milk and cheese in with the chicken to create a creamy sauceâwhile he waited with bated breath for Parker Ellisâs response. Jack trusted the senior chef not to bullshit him or fuck with him the way John sometimes did.
âOh yeah, full-on heart eyes,â Parker announced, stopping beside John for a moment to drop off some more plates in need of their finishing touches. She glanced at Jack, who was still trying to process her pronouncement. âYou gonna do something about it, chef?â
Was Jack going to do something about it? Everything in him ached to do somethingâto touch you, to kiss you, or, at the very least, ask for your number and take you out for a real meal sometime. He wanted to get to know you, he wanted to impress you with the most romantic of dates, and then he wanted to take you home and take care of you in every way he knew how.
It had been a long time since Jack had wanted any of those things with anyone, and it was a shock to his system to feel them for someone so soon after meeting them. But Jack could tell you were special. There was a spark between the two of you that he knew heâd be a fool to ignore.
However, he was still wary about scaring you off or creeping you out. But maybe he wouldnât if Jack could take things slow. He could feed you, make sure you were comfortable in his office, and then later, heâd give you a tour of his kitchen and see how things went from there. If you seemed into it, he could ask for your number and take you out on a real date.
Happy with his plan, Jack finally looked up from where he was finishing the meal heâd made for you. He found both John and Parker looking at him expectantlyâand a little impatiently. He twisted his mouth to the side to bite back a smirk.
âDonât you two have something better to do than discuss my love life?â he grumbled good-naturedly, knowing neither of them would take him too seriously.
True to form, Parker snickered and gave Jack a mock salute. âHappy for you, chef,â she said before heading back into the crowded kitchen.
Meanwhile, John was grinning to himself. âGet your girl, old man,â he quipped, giving Jack a sly look out of the corner of his eye.
Jack made a show of grumbling about his impertinent staff while he plated up the dish heâd made for youâchicken and pasta with a creamy, cheesy sauce flavored with plenty of rosemary and other herbs. Then, it was time to bring it to you, and even Jack was a little surprised by how eager he was to get back to you, striding across the kitchen as quick as he could.
Knocking lightly before pushing inside his office, Jack found you curled up in his desk chair, your legs tucked underneath you, an e-reader in your hands. For a moment, Jack was struck by the easy domesticity of the sceneâhim bringing you dinner while you looked sexy and cozy in his office.
It would be all too easy for Jack to get used to this, having you visit him at his restaurant and waiting in his office for him to finish up for the night so he could take you out for a late-night drink, or some ice cream. And then, heâd take you home and get you underneath him so he could have a late-night snack of his ownâŠ
âOh hi, is that for me?â
Your question dragged Jack from his reverie, and he couldnât help but smile when he saw your wide eyes looking up at him. He stepped forward to set down the dish and silverware heâd brought on the desk in front of you, your sweet scent tickling his nose before he stood back to give you some roomâand so that he could watch your reaction.
You tucked your e-reader back into your purse, and Jack knew the exact moment you smelled the food in front of you because you went still and your eyes slid closed. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and when you exhaled, it was with a low, throaty moan that went straight to Jackâs dick.
For the first time since heâd hit middle age, Jack was actually glad he wasnât as quick to harden as when he was younger. Still, he had to curl his hands into fists at his sides and tamp down on the instinct to adjust his cock, which was twitching to life, not wanting to bring any attention to how your innocent reaction was affecting him.
Instead, he focused all his willpower on keeping himself from getting harder, which became more difficult when you blinked your eyes open, looking almost dazed with hunger and pleasure. It was all Jack could do to hold himself back from touching you, from tracing the shape of your mouth with his fingers, from kissing you so that the desire in your eyes was all for him and not his food.
âIt smells delicious, chef,â you purred, your voice low and husky in a way that Jack could tell wasnât intentional, which made it affect him all the more.
âGive it a try, sweetheart,â Jack said, unable to keep the gravel out of his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to stop himself from reaching for you. He wanted to grab you by your hips, put you in his lap, and feed you. But he reminded himself he was taking things slow, so he leaned against the desk and watched you intently. âI want to know if you like it.â
Bobbing your head in a nod, you grabbed your fork, scooped up some of the pasta and speared a piece of chicken, popping the whole bite into your mouth. Some cream sauce lingered in the corners of your lips, and Jack had to clench his fists to stop from swiping it away with his thumb. He was nearly undone, biting back a groan, when your tongue peaked out and licked it up with a garbled moan.
âOh my god, thatâs the best thing Iâve ever tasted,â you proclaimed. The pleasure in your voice made Jack harder, but he focused instead on the pride blooming, warm and sweet, in his chest.
Still, he couldnât completely ignore his cock twitching to life in his jeans. For once, he was grateful for the apron covering his front, helping to shield the bulge growing between his thighs. God, he felt like a fucking teenager.
âAh, th-thanks,â he said, stumbling over his words, flustered by just how much you visiblyâand verballyâenjoyed his food. âItâs a personal recipe, not on the menu.â He shot you a wink, hoping desperately that it came across as charming, and not unbearably cheesy. âI figured you could use some comfort food.â
The somber note in Jackâs voice seemed to strike you right in the heart, and you blinked, your eyes dropping from his for a moment. Jack wondered if heâd made a mistake by referencing your bad date, but then your hand darted out, playing idly with the edge of his apron just below where his arms were crossed.
âI canât thank you enough for getting me out of that situation, Jack,â you said softly, and the chef was so distracted by the sound of his name on your tongue that he almost missed what you were saying. But then you looked up and your gaze was arresting. âI thought I could handle itâcould handle himâbut I donât know what I wouldâve done if you hadnât been thereâŠâ
Jack hated how small you sounded, how unsure of yourself.
Before he knew what he was doing, Jack was sweeping down onto one knee, barely biting back a wince when his prosthetic protested, and settling his hands gently on the outside of your thighs. He tried to ignore the heat of your bare skin against his palms, forcing himself to focus on you and making sure you saw yourself the way he saw you.
âYou wouldâve been fine, sweetheart,â Jack said in his firmest tone, even as he made sure to keep his voice gentle. He could tell from the uncertainty in your eyes that you were hanging on his every word, and he felt compelled to go on. âYou can take care of yourself, and if youâd needed to, you wouldâve handled that asshole.â
Something like pride and confidence swirled in your eyes, and Jack let his mouth twist to the side in a smile. It made him feel good to know he could put that look in your eye, and he felt his chest puffing up a little bit before he got control of himself and gave your thighs a reassuring squeeze before continuing.
âI am glad I could help, though,â Jack said, his voice rougher than it had any right to be. But he was kneeling so close to you that he breathed in your sweet scent with every inhale, and it was going straight to his head. âThank you for letting me feed youâthank you for letting me take care of you.â
Your eyes were wide and bright and fixed so intensely on Jackâs that he barely felt it when your hands settled gently on his shoulders, holding on to him like he was the one steady thing you could count on. His grip on your thighs tightened, drawing you closer until your knees collided with his chest.
âAnytime, chef,â you murmured, your lips parted and glistening and looking so fucking tempting.
A little growl rumbled in Jackâs chest and he watched your eyes flare with interest, before settling back into a heavy-lidded stare. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, curling into the cotton of his white t-shirt, and he could feel you lightly tugging on him, trying to bring him closer.
Fuck, Jack wasnât just interested in you, he craved you. It didnât matter that heâd known you for such a short time, he wanted to devour you. He wanted to take you into his arms and kiss the breath from your lungs, make you come apart and then hold you tight until you put each other together again.
He wanted to go back to work knowing you were safe and sound in his office, eating the food heâd cooked for you, then give you a tour of the kitchen later. When that was done, he wanted to drive you home, make sure you got in safe, and make plans to see you again. He wanted to take up as much space in your head as you were taking up in his.
Jack wanted to kiss you. And, if he wasnât mistaken, you looked like you wanted him to kiss you, too.
A great crashing sound came from the kitchen, shattering the perfect moment, and Jackâs stomach sank when you flinched. You tried to hide your reaction, staring at him innocently like you hadnât recoiled at the loud sound, but he was reminded that he should be taking things slowly, carefully, making sure you werenât overwhelmed by all that had happened throughout the night.
âEat up, angel,â he rumbled, giving your thighs one last squeeze before moving to stand, pushing himself up with one hand on his desk. He gritted his teeth through the pain in his limb as he settled back onto his prosthetic, and gave you another of his hopefully charming winks. âIf youâre a good girl, Iâll make you some dessert to go with your kitchen tour.â
At that comment, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sultry smile spreading slowly across your face. When you looked up at Jack, your eyes were a little hazy, and your body swayed closer to him, almost like you couldnât help yourself.
âOh, Iâll be good,â you murmured, looking more sexy than you had any right to curled up in Jackâs desk chair. âI promise, chef.â
There it was again, that title rolling off your tongue and licking straight down Jackâs spine. He had half a mind to gather you up in his arms and kiss you until you were murmuring that word into his mouth, his neck, into the center of his chest while he pressed between your thighs and slid inside youâŠ
âIâll be back when it slows down,â Jack promised, wrenching himself away from his fantasy and backing toward the door of the office. If he didnât know better, he thought you mightâve been smirking as you hummed your acknowledgement. âEnjoy your dinner, sweetheart.â
âThank you, chef,â you chirped sweetly, turning back to your mealâthough not before catching Jackâs eye over your shoulder, a flirty spark in your gaze.
A goofy grin spread across Jackâs face, and for a moment, he let himself watch you as you pulled out your e-reader and began to read while you ate the meal heâd prepared. His chest filled with warm sunlight while something in his gut settled. It felt right to have you here in Jackâs office, in his space, looking safe and comfortable and content.
Holding that sense of rightness close to his heart, Jack ducked back into the kitchen, taking a moment to retie his apron before jumping into the fray. He felt steadier than he had before heâd brought you some dinner, and while Jack knew part of that was because he knew you were fed, it was also because heâd accepted itâhe was interested in you and he was going to pursue you.
Jack was done feeling guilty or creepy for wanting to spend time with you, even if you were one of his restaurant guests that heâd had to save from an atrociously bad date. Jack believed what heâd told you, that you could take care of yourself, and if you wanted to spend time with him, too, then Jack wasnât going to feel bad about it.
So he took his place beside his sous chef and got to work on the endless stream of orders coming into Night Shiftâs kitchen. He let himself fall into the rhythm of the work, plating up and putting the finishing touches on all kinds of dishes before they were whisked away into the dining room. He worked with a methodical determination, knowing that the sooner he cleared out all the orders, the sooner he could check back in on you.
When things finally slowed down, Jack heaved a sigh of relief. It was a strange feeling, knowing he had someone in his office that he eagerly wanted to get back to, and it wasnât until he caught John giving him an annoying looked that he realized he was smiling.
Jack tugged off his black nitrile gloves, tossed them in the trash, and flipped off John while he made his way back to his office. Jackâs heart squeezed at the sight that greeted him.
He found you snuggled up in his chair, his leather jacket tucked around you like a blanket, your head lolled to the side as you slept soundly. Jack marveled at the beauty of your faceâthe soft slope of your nose, the pretty curve of your mouth, the delicate fan of your lashes against your cheeks.
Somewhere deep in his chest, Jackâs heart knocked against his ribs like it was trying to get his attention, and he knew exactly what it wanted to sayâyou could be his. If you let him, and if you wanted him, too, Jack could fall for you. That night could be the start of something new, something spectacular.
Thinking about how he could very much get used to seeing you in his chair, in his office, Jack tucked his leather jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, holding his breath when your cheek nuzzled against the back of his hand. His heart thumped happily when you smiled softly in your sleep and it took every bit of his strength to pull away.
As quietly as he could, Jack cleared the empty plate and silverware from his desk, taking care not to disturb you. He carried it to the door, where he paused to look at you again, watching you sleep for just a moment longer.
It struck Jack then, like a lightning bolt, that he wasnât just interested in you or attracted to you. He was completely gone for you. He was yours, and he could only hope that youâd want to be his.
Even before you were fully awake, you knew you were safe.
Warmth, and the scent of leather and herbs, surrounded you, easing you back into reality from dreams about a hot, silver-haired chef and big, capable hands on your body. Desire curled lazily, low in your belly, and you snuggled deeper into the leather jacket wrapped around your shoulders, wishing for more time of with your dream chef.
But before you could slip back into sleep, it struck you suddenly how quiet it was in your little cocoon. Youâd fallen asleep to the chaos and clatter of the kitchen at Night Shift, but the noise had dwindled down to a dull murmur. It hit you that you mustâve slept longer than youâd intended.
Youâd only meant to close your eyes for a few minutes. Youâd been so full from eating the comfort meal Jack Abbot had cooked for you, and youâd felt so warm and cozy once youâd tugged his jacket off the back of the chair and wrapped it around yourself. You hadnât been able to stop yourself from letting your eyes close and falling asleep.
Reaching out from beneath the jacket, you checked the time on your phone and confirmed youâd not only slept through the rest of the dinner rush, but through Night Shiftâs closing time. Slowly, you began to uncurl yourself from your position in Jackâs chair, stretching and looking toward the door of his office, wondering why he hadnât woken you up sooner.
Had he forgotten about you?
It was a little dizzying, the sheer amount of disappointment that swept through you at that thought, and it took you a moment to wade through the emotions to get back to rational thought. Jack had been so kind and attentive since heâd rescued you from your bad date, it didnât sit right to think he mightâve forgotten about you.
It also just didnât make sense based on the way heâd looked at you before heâd left you alone to eat. Heâd stared at you so intently with those dark hazel eyes of his, youâd felt like he wanted to consume you. Even just the memory of his stare was enough to warm you from the inside out, heat swirling through your belly before settling between your thighs.
Intending to get to the bottom of why Jack had let you sleep in his office for so long, you did a quick check of your makeup in your phoneâs camera and set your feet on the floor. You were just rising to stand when Night Shiftâs head chef stuck his head in through the open door.
âYouâre up,â he said, his sharp eyes taking in the way you wobbled on your heels, wincing at the pain of wearing them for so long. He came into the room and took your hand, setting a steadying palm on your hip while his fingers twined with yours. âHow are you feeling?â
His attentive question sent more warmth spiralling through your chest, and you smiled softly at the chef, leaning into his warmth. He was still wearing the thin white t-shirt that pulled obscenely across his shoulders and highlighted his bulging biceps, but the brown apron heâd had on earlier was gone, leaving him in just a simple pair of dark jeans and black shoes.
Meanwhile, you were still in the little black dress and heels youâd donned for your date, but somehow you didnât feel overdressed around Jack. You enjoyed the way his eyes raked down your body, appreciating the way your dress clung to your curvesâhugging your hips and cupping your tits. It made you crave the chefâs touch everywhere he looked.
âI feel good, chef,â you murmured huskily, your lips quirking into a little smirk when heat flared in Jackâs eyes. âI needed a little rest, but now Iâve got a second wind.â
âStill want that kitchen tour, sweetheart?â Jack rumbled, his hand on your hip pulling you closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the warmth of it teasing every inch of your bare skin. âYou were such a good girl during the dinner rush, Iâve got that dessert I promised you.â
Something deep inside you clenched tight at the way Jackâs voice rumbled over the words âgood girlâ, his praise going straight to the place between your legs that was beginning to throb the longer his hand remained on your hip. To steady yourself, you lifted your hands to Jackâs biceps, feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingers as you looked at the chef from under your lashes.
âReally?â you asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of your voice, out of your smile.
Jackâs mouth pulled to the side in a slow, wicked grin, his eyes sparkling with humor and something that looked a lot like hunger. âHow do you feel about coffee and chocolate?â
Excitement bubbled up your throat, and you bounced a little on the balls of your feet as you confirmed your undying love for coffee and chocolate. With another grin that had your core clenching, Jack guided you back into the kitchen, his big hand firm against your lower back.
Most of the kitchen staff had cleared out, leaving the space spotless and easier to navigate as Jack walked you through. He showed you each of the stations, and introduced you to the few remaining kitchen staffâincluding his sous chef John Shen and senior chef Parker Ellis.
Jack left you chatting with John and Parker while he rustled around in a fridge, pulling out some containers and setting up a work station on one of the long, silver tables in the center of the room. Once he was done, the other chefs each gave Jack a handshake and half-hug before bidding you a goodnight.
As they left, John exchanged a loaded look with Jack that had the head chefâs face twisting into an exasperatedly stern expression, and you had to bite back a smile. It was clear Jackâs staff loved him, respected himâand teased him every chance they got.
It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, to know that you werenât the only one who felt safe with Jack. He was a good boss, a good man, to everyone in his life. He was the exact opposite of the man youâd gone on a date with and needed to be rescued from.
Jack Abbot was the kind of man you could be alone with in a deserted kitchen and feel only excitement, only the thrumming awareness that something might happen between you two. You turned to him, your gazes meeting, and for a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other, silently acknowledging the sparks igniting in space between your bodies.
âHop up,â Jack said, his voice as rough as a knife on metal. With one hand, he patted the counter beside the cutting board heâd set up, his dark eyes watching you intently.
Your gaze snagged on that hand, on the thickness of his fingers and the smattering of freckles along the back. You remembered how that hand had felt on your hip, on your thigh, and you nearly whimpered with the need to feel his palm on you again, but you managed to bite it back.
Instead, you did as the chef said. You pressed back against the counter, planting your hands on the edge and arching your spine just a little more than necessary to stick out your tits. You were rewarded with Jackâs gaze dropping quickly to your chest before he dragged his eyes back up to your face. With a smirk, you jumped onto the counter, careful not to put too much weight on the wrist your date had grabbed.
The cold metal of the worktable was a stark contrast to the warmth of your bare thighs, and you hissed softly, your shoulders trembling as a shiver snaked down your spine. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your body and wished you hadnât left your jacket in Jackâs office.
But then Jackâs hand was on your knee and he was giving you a concerned look, his silver brows lowered over his hazel eyes. âCold, sweetheart?â
âYeah,â you answered sheepishly, giving a light shrug and trying to shake off the chill. You leaned into Jack, your body seeking his warmth. âThe kitchen gets cold without all the ovens and stoves on, huh?â you asked wryly, trying to get a reaction from the chef, and soften the worried lines of his face.
Jack huffed a laugh, shooting you an amused smirk even as he squeezed your knee in chastisement. The weight of his palm, the soft press of his fingers, had tendrils of heat licking down your spine and settling between your thighs. It took a great deal of effort not to shiver and grab hold of Jack to pull him closer.
âStay here,â he rumbled, pulling away and striding toward his office. You nearly whined at the loss of his body heat, but you perked up quickly when he returned with his leather jacket.
The chef stepped close enough to your legs that your knees brushed his thighs, and your gaze snagged on his. He was so close, you could see the lines in his weathered face, the silver stubble along his jaw, and the light freckles dusted across his cheeks.
Tension crackled as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, his fingers brushing gently against your bare skin, and you leaned closer, until you could feel his unsteady breaths on your lips. Jack went still, his eyes searching yours and you tried your best to tell him without words how much you wanted him to kiss you.
But either Jack didnât get the message or he chickened out, because he swallowed hard and tucked the lapels of the leather jacket around your shoulders, making sure you were ensconced in its warmth before he moved back to his workstation. It seemed to take him a moment to gather himself before he spoke.
âBetter?â he asked, his voice raw with a hunger that made you squeeze your thighs together against a pulsing ache.
âYeah, better,â you answered, your voice faint, trying and failing to shake off the unslaked desire burning through your body. You didnât know if Jack was purposefully ignoring all the signals you were giving him, or if he was truly unaware, but you didnât know how much longer you could last before you simply grabbed the chef and kissed him yourself.
Despite the almost-kiss, you and Jack fell into an easy quiet, him pulling out some dark chocolate and beginning to chop it up into tiny shards while you watched him work.
The muscles in his arms moved mesmerizingly as he worked his knife against the cutting board, his freckled forearms flexing deliciously, his biceps straining the hem of his white t-shirt. You had to wrap your fingers around the edges of Jackâs leather jacket and bury your nose in the collar, breathing in his herby, masculine scent, to keep from reaching out to touch him.
Whatever expression was on your face made Jack smirk when he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. After that, you couldâve sworn he started flexing his arms on purpose, getting fancy with his knife work, like he was trying to impress you.
From anyone else, that mightâve made you roll your eyes, or turned you off entirely, but Jack was so skilled, so charming, and just so downright hot, that it worked for him. His confidence came from his competence, and it was so attractive, it made you squirm where you sat on the counter beside him, the warmth blooming between your thighs becoming nearly impossible to ignore.
âWhatâre you making?â you asked in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from watching the muscles of Jackâs shoulders shift beneath the obscenely thin fabric of his white t-shirt. That t-shirt looked well-loved, and you had a sneaking suspicion it would feel really good to wearâwhile staying the night in Jackâs bedâŠ
âWeâve got some leftover coffee mousse from tonightâs dessert special,â Jack answered, seemingly unaware of how you were ogling him as he continued to chop the dark chocolate into little pieces.
His hands were so deft and skilfull, his fingers so thick and sure, you couldnât help but imagine what it would feel like for Jack to touch you. You imagined him putting his hands on your body, groping your soft curves, slipping his fingers between your thighs to press against your damp pantiesâŠ
âIâm just adding some chocolate to elevate it a little,â Jack glanced at you, and you knew your filthy thoughts were written all over your face by the way his eyes heated when they raked over your face. âChocolate makes everything better, doesnât it, sweetheart?â
Jackâs voice had lowered, sending delightful little tendrils of lust licking down your spine. Even if youâd wanted to, you couldnât have looked away from Jackâs dark gaze, the steady thwack of the knife against his cutting board matching the rhythm of the pulse between your thighs.
Slowly, you nodded your head. âYes, chef,â you murmured, your voice raspier than youâd expected, matching Jackâs lower tenor. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, you thought you might be able to hear it in the quiet kitchen, but it was only your soft, panting breaths.
The measured sounds of Jackâs knife ceased, his eyes dropping to your mouth, watching you breathe for one long moment, and then another, before dragging his gaze back to yours. Tension crackled electrically between your bodies, and it wasnât until your wrist gave a twinge of pain that you realized your hands were braced on the edge of the counter and you were leaning closer to Jack.
He seemed to notice the position of your body at the same time you did, his eyes darting down to where your tits were bouncing softly with your sharp breaths before looking up, a light pink blush appearing beneath his freckles. His gaze collided with yours, and you could feel the older man holding himself back, keeping himself in check.
But that wasnât what you wanted. You wantedâŠhim. Badly.
âJack.â His name was a desperate whimper, barely louder than your breathing, tumbling from your lips. Something in him seemed to break at the sound of his name from your lips, and you thought he might kiss you.
Instead, he surprised you by grabbing a piece of chocolate from his cutting board and lifting it to your lips. He met your stare with his own heated eyes, looking like melted chocolate mixed with caramel.
âHere, sweetheart, have a taste.â
Jackâs words were a low, delectable rumble from deep in his chest, and you couldnât hold back the shiver that raced down your spine, making your shoulders tremble with excitement under the onslaught of his voice and his closeness. You could smell his earthy, masculine scent, and you wanted more.
The tips of Jackâs bare fingers pressed to your lower lip and, instinctively, you parted for him, allowing the older man to feed you the chocolate. The rich, decadent taste burst in your mouth, and your tongue darted out, licking the pads of Jackâs fingers, making his eyes darken even further as he watched your lips close around the bite of chocolate.
You let the confection melt in your mouth, your eyes sliding closed of their own accord as you savored the delicious dark chocolate. You mightâve felt like you were in your own little world, but Jackâs hand fell to your thigh, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress where it rode high on your leg. You had to stifle another shiver as you hummed in delight, catching the rumble of a muffled groan coming from the chef.
When you opened your eyes again, it was to find Jackâs intense hazel eyes searing into yours, his gaze so blisteringly hot, you felt your core clench in anticipation. And since you knew you werenât alone in your attraction and lust, you licked your lips, watching Jack track the movement with his gaze.
âYum,â you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly through the hair on Jackâs arm, nails raking subtly against his warm, freckled skin. You were prepared for him to pull away again, but he didnât, and you let a small smile curve your mouth. âDo you have anything else for me to taste, chef?â
Although your question was, on its surface, innocent, you imbued your words with enough innuendo for your real meaning to get through to him. You knew that it had when the corner of Jackâs lips quirked into a smile, but instead of leaning forward and giving you what you wantedâhis mouthâhe pulled away and turned to something at his station.
The chef popped open one of the storage containers heâd taken out of the fridge and swiped his finger through the mousse inside. You almost squirmed in excitement as he held his hand in front of your mouth, offering you the sweet treat.
Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you held Jackâs scorching gaze as you brought his finger to your lips. You licked teasingly at the mousse, making sure not to touch Jackâs skin with your tongue, and had to fight a smirk when he let out a barely suppressed groan.
Putting both of you out of your misery, you closed your lips around Jackâs thick finger and licked the mousse off of him. The bittersweet taste of the coffee mousse exploded in your mouth, with just a hint of salt from Jackâs skin, and it had you moaning around Jackâs finger. His whole body jerked at the sound and the vibrations.
âChrist, sweetheart,â he groaned softly, his other hand grabbing your thigh, gripping you tightly as he nudged your knees open so he could step between your parted legs. âYou make the prettiest sounds when youâre eating my foodâI just wanna tasteâŠâ
Jackâs finger, still sticky with sugar, slid from your mouth and his hand cupped your cheek, tipping your face toward his. For a moment, he lingered with his lips just barely brushing yours, close enough that you were certain he could taste the coffee and chocolate on your breath.
It felt like he was memorizing the moment, savoring the tension that crackled between your bodies, the way your breath hitched with him so close. Your knees squeezed his sides, your fingers dancing up his ribs, and a soft, breathy whined sounded in your throat as you tried to pull him closer.
âIs this alright, sweetheart?â Jack asked, his thumb stroking your cheek, swiping over the corner of your mouth.
The genuine care in his deep, raspy voice was nearly your undoing. This man had done nothing but take care of you since heâd come striding out of the kitchen to save you from your bad date, but you were tired of him treating you with kid gloves. You wanted him so fucking bad.
Fingers curling in the sides of his t-shirt, you tugged Jack closer, sliding your body to the edge of the counter at the same time, uncaring about how high your dress was riding up your thighs. You parted your lips, tilting your head into the handsome chefâs hand as you pressed your soft body against his hard one.
âYes, Jack,â you whimpered, unable to stand the crackling tension any longer, even as you wanted to bask in it for the rest of your life. âKiss me. Please, chef.â
Jack didnât need to be asked twice. He closed the distance between his mouth and yours, capturing your lips in a slow, decadent kiss that had your heart soaring. His lips were soft, but firm, as they moved against yours, taking immediate control while you were left to gasp and whimper into his mouth.
It was everything youâd hoped it would beâthe older man kissing you sweetly at first, before pressing his thumb to your chin and tilting your head back so he could sweep his tongue into your mouth. The hot slide of him was determined and possessive and so fucking hot, you moaned against his lips, trembling as you met the fervor of his kiss with your own heady lust.
Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you wrapped your arms around Jackâs shoulders, your fingers sinking into the soft, steel gray curls at the back of his head. Your fingers tangled in the strands, tugging lightly on his hiar as your nails raked lightly against his skin, earning you a desperate groan. Jack deepened the kiss again until you couldnât do anything else but breathe him in.
The chefâs hands skimmed down your sides beneath the edges of his leather jacket where it was still balanced precariously on your shoulders. His palms were warm as his thick fingers wrapped around your ribs, pulling you even more flush against his chest, your legs splaying wide to make room for his broad body.
His thick, half-hard cock pressed against your soft inner thigh, and you shifted until he was nestled against your warm center. You rocked your hips, grinding against his bulge, dragging a desperate groan out of the older man.
âFuck, angel, you taste like heaven,â Jack rasped, pressing kisses along your jaw, tickling you with the silver scruff on his cheeks. When he suckled on a spot beneath your ear, you moaned and writhed in his arms, pressing your aching pussy against his hardening cock. âFeel like it, too.â
âGod, you feel so good, Jack,â you babbled breathlessly, rubbing against his body like a cat in heat. You hiked your thighs higher around his waist, using the leverage to hump against his thick cock through your clothes. âI want you. Please, chef,â you begged against Jackâs ear, nipping at the lobe and smiling wildly when he shuddered in your arms, his hips grinding his cock harder against your soft core.
âI thought you were going to be a good girl for me, sweetheart,â Jack growled, his voice softly recriminating as he grabbed your hips hard, his fingers digging roughly into your soft flesh.
But instead of dragging you closer and giving you what you wanted, he pushed you back. Lifting his head from your neck, he gave you a stern look, softened by the affectionate twist of his mouth and the spark of desire in his eyes, sending a zing of lust straight to your dripping slit.
âDonât you wanna be good for me, angel,â he rumbled, his voice deliciously raspy, âand let me feed you some dessert before you start begging me to fuck you?â
Your jaw dropped and you sucked in a sharp breath at Jackâs filthy words, heat suffusing your body so fully, you couldnât find a single word in your entire head to respond. You could only stare at the older man, your thighs squeezing his hips and wordlessly begging him to put your body out of its misery, but Jack simply chuckled at your reaction.
He stole a kiss from your parted lips before gently extricating himself from your clinging body, shushing you softly when you whined at the loss of him. Giving your hips one last rough squeeze, he stepped out from between your legs and adjusted his thick cock in his jeans as he moved back to his workstation.
It was absurd how cold you felt without him, and you pulled Jackâs leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, pouting at the chef. He pretended to ignore you, scooping up chocolate shards and dumping them into a bowl along with some mousse while you kicked your feet petulantly and whined, âJaaack.â
That got you an amused smirk. âJust a few bites,â he urged, picking up the bowl and beginning to whisk the chocolate into the mouse, melting it into the dessert. âI promise itâll be worth it,â Jack said, giving you another of his charming winks.
It had its intended effect, and you softened, endeavoring to wait patiently, though you still made a show of grumbling your discontent even as you got distracted by watching him work. Jackâs arms flexed deliciously while he whisked the chocolate into the mousse, his biceps straining the sleeves of his t-shirt so enticingly, you wanted to bite them, then lick every freckle, then bite him again.
Jackâs low chuckle let you know heâd caught your hungry look, and heat flooded your cheeks, but you didnât get a chance to stammer out an apology or an explanation before he was setting the bowl down and grabbing a spoon. Scooping up some of the mousse mixture, he lifted it to your lips.
You opened eagerly, already knowing whatever Jack made would be delicious, and let him pop the bite into your mouth. Jack watched you closely as he pulled the spoon out, giving you a moment to taste what heâd given you.
The delectable flavors of rich coffee and velvety chocolate melted on your tongue, and your eyes slid closed as you savored the sweetness, a low moan slipping from your lips at how good the dessert tasted.
âJesus, Jack, thatâs the best thing I think Iâve ever had in my mouth,â you groaned, opening your eyes. You found Jack staring at you, a wild look in his eyes, and so much hunger in their depths, it stole the breath from your lungs. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
You half expected the chef to pounce on you, to kiss the remnants of the dessert from your lips and show you what other things he could stuff in your mouth, but you shouldâve known better. Jack didnât take the bait of your comment as he kept a white-knuckle grip on himself, holding back even as more tension than ever snapped and crackled between the two of you.
âWant some more, sweetheart?â he rasped, holding your gaze.
Your head was bobbing an eager nod before heâd even finished the question, and he lifted another spoonful of mousse to your lips, watching as you ate it happily, humming in delight. When Jack fed himself some of the sweet concoction, you could only watch with rapt attention as it disappeared inside his mouth, his tongue flicking out to catch some left at the corner of his lips.
The need in your body had pulled you taut as a bowstring, your skin practically vibrating with desire by the time youâd finished enough of the dessert for Jack to hopefully be satisfied. It was a testament to his culinary skills that you were still able to taste the chocolatey coffee confection with how much lust was swirling through your body, simmering low in your belly.
You squirmed where you sat, the metal beneath your thighs warm from your skin, and felt how wet you were, your panties nearly soaked with your desire. You were hot enough that you pushed the jacket from your shoulders, and looked directly at Jack, pouting at the chef once more.
âJack, please,â you whined, your fingers curling around the edges of his t-shirt, knuckles brushing his ribs. You felt him suck in a breath as he let you tug him back between your legs, your body trembling with excitement and need. âIâve had enough dessert, I need something elseâŠâ
The older man didnât respond immediately, his head ducked, watching as his palms skimmed up the outside of your bare thighs, like he could barely believe you were letting him touch you. Your fingers trailed up his arms, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails raking lightly against his skin. You watched him close his eyes at the sensation, knowing he enjoyed it.
âIâve been a good girl, havenât I?â you murmured in Jackâs ear, feeling the tension in his shoulders as they bunched beneath your arms. He let out a slow breath, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. âIâve been so good, and I want you so bad, Jack. Touch meâplease, chef.â
The last thread of Jackâs control snapped at your commentâyou felt it in the way his muscles moved, poised on the edge of giving in before he finally let his desire loose after your begging plea. His hands grabbed you roughly, fingers digging into your bare ass beneath the hem of your dress as he yanked you closer.
His mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a blisteringly hot, devouring kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. He wrapped you up in his arms, crushing you to his chest as he kissed you, gorging himself on your mouth, his hands groping greedily at your body while you clung to him.
It was everything youâd wanted from the chef, and the corners of your lips curved in an attempt at smile, but then Jack was kissing you harder, overwhelming you until you were moaning mindlessly into his mouth. Youâd never felt more desired than you did when Jack kissed you, and youâd never felt more in danger of letting yourself fall for someone.
You were mostly lost to your lust, your nipples puckered and needy where they were pressed against the chefâs chest and your pussy aching to be filled, but it occurred to you that Jack was different from all the other men youâd dated. He was kind and gentle and steady, and he kissed you so good your head spun.
It struck you suddenly that while you knew you were safe with Jack, you were in danger of losing your heart to him. But that was the kind of danger you wanted to be inâespecially since you knew that if you fell for him, Jack would catch you.
So you kissed the chef right back, pouring your desire for him into the slide of your mouth against his, holding him close as you flung yourself off the edge, letting emotions swirl and swell in your chest, confident that heâd carry your heart in his hands and protect it with his life.
Youâd never been safer in your entire life than you were in Jack Abbotâs arms.
Jack Abbot was in heaven.
In all his years of cooking, of being a chef, heâd never tasted anything as divine as you.
He could gorge himself on you and still never get enoughânot of the way your mouth moved against his, your lips soft and tongue eager as it twined with his. He couldnât get enough of the feel of your body beneath his hands, so sweet and supple and responsive.
Every press of his fingertips into your spine had you arching into him, breathy, little whines slipping from your lips for him to devour. He could taste the coffee and chocolate on your tongue, and he sucked on your plump lower lip, groaning as he savored the combination of the dessert heâd fed you with the natural flavor that was all your own.
Kissing you was making him unbelievably hardâharder than heâd been in a long timeâhis cock heavy and weeping in his jeans. The only thing that saved him from embarrassment was how enthusiastically you were grinding against his bulge, the dampness of your panties leaving a wet spot where his cock was straining against the dark denim.
Jack dragged his hands up your sides, wrapping his fingers around your ribs, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your tits, teasing you both with the barest of touches. You let out a soft, keening sound against his mouth, making him smirk before he pressed kisses along your jaw and down the smooth column of your neck.
âMore, Jack, please,â you begged, your hands fisted in his shirt and tugging on him restlessly. The desperation in your voice, the way you begged for him, it made his cock twitch for you.
He shifted his hands higher, groping your tits through your dress and dragging a filthy moan from your pretty lips. The pads of his thumbs teased your hardened nipples, and he reveled in the way your body shuddered in his arms. Your spine arched, pressing your tits into his hands and he rewarded you by rubbing your nipples more with his thumbs.
âYa like this, sweetheart?â Jack rasped against your neck, raising his head enough to nip at your ear. âLike letting an old chef feel up your pretty tits?â
âOld, hot chef,â you shot back, correcting him in a deliciously breathless voice.
Jackâs cock twitched at the compliment, and he couldnât believe how lucky he was to have found youâsomeone so beautiful and full of life. Someone so into him.
He pressed his smile into the spot beneath your ear, kissing and licking your skin until you were moaning softly.
âAnd yes, chef, I love it. Touch me more, touch me harderâplease,â you begged, squirming where you sat on the metal counter in his kitchen.
What was Jack supposed to do? Deny you?
He couldnât even fathom the idea of not giving you what you asked for, even if he knew that he was letting things get a little out of control. The two of you were still at Night Shift, and though the staff had left for the night, it wasnât the best idea to have sex in his kitchen.
But Jack couldnât seem to stop himself, not when you were making such pretty noises while he sucked a hickey into your neck and teased your nipples with the lightest of pinches. His mouth trailed up your throat before capturing your lips in another kiss, swallowing your sounds of pleasure while he played with your tits.
It had been so long since Jack had lost himself in anyoneâthere hadnât been anyone whoâd awoken that desire in him the way you did. Not since his wife passed. You were a siren calling him to the danger of your body, to the promise of losing his heart to you, and Jack knew he could drown in you if you let him. He hoped to god you let him.
For long, endless minutes, Jack kissed you and groped your tits, playing with your nipples and seeing how many different noises he could pull from your lips. And for a while, you let him, the sounds of your pleasure growing more high-pitched, your hips working more desperately to hump against his cock.
Eventually, your need mustâve grown too great, your frustration too acute, because you grabbed one of Jackâs wrists and shoved his hand down between your bodies, until his fingers brushed your soaked panties.
âTouch me here, Jack, pleaseâI need it,â you whimpered in his ear, and it was nearly his undoing.
It was his turn to gasp and groan, the tips of his fingers stroking against the sodden fabric as he used every ounce of the self-control heâd learned in the army not to spill himself in his jeans right then. You were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet.
Jack teased his fingers along the seam of your slit through your panties, hoping you couldnât tell how much his hand was shaking. You felt so perfect, it was overwhelming. Heâd stopped kissing you, your mouths close as you breathed each otherâs air, panting your excitement together while he pressed into your cunt through your slick panties.
âLike this, sweetheart?â he rumbled, the edge of his mouth pulling up in a smirk when you let out a desperate little mewl. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly while you rocked your hips onto his hand.
âJaaack,â you sobbed, and heâd never heard anything as sweet as the sound of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, pleasure soaked into your voice.
You pulled harder on his hair, and the jolt of pain went straight to his dick, which leaked even more precum into his jeans. Jack responded by pushing his fingers deeper between the lips of your pussy, his progress restricted by your panties, which prevented him from burying his fingers in your hole.
A violent shiver wracked your body, and Jack wrapped his other arm more tightly around your lower back, holding you close while he fucked you shallowly with his fingers. His thumb teased your clit with a featherlight touch, drawing a feral sound from your perfect mouth.
âPlease, oh god, please, chef, touch meâfuck me with your fingers, please, please, please,â you babbled, yanking on his hair to draw him closer. But instead, Jack took the opportunity to lean back and take a look at youâand what a sight you were.
Your head was thrown back, your expression openly desperate with lust. Your gorgeous eyes were dazed with desire, your plump, perfect lips parted and panting for air. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths, enough that your tits threatened to spill out of your mussed dress, which was hiked up high, Jackâs big hand pressed between your soft thighs.
You looked debauched. You looked so beautiful, Jackâs heart clenched in his chest and he couldnât stop himself from imagining you looking like this in a million different waysâon the desk in his office, in the backseat of his car, on his couch at home, in his bed.
In that moment, Jack wanted nothing more than to have you in all those ways. He wanted to move you into his place and put a ring on your fingerâhe wanted to make you his and keep you forever. He was stunned by how much he wanted you.
âJaaack,â you whined, your sweet voice bringing him back to the moment. Your eyes were wide and pleading as you looked at him. âI was a good girl, wasnât I?â you asked so pitifully, Jackâs heart ached.
A single tear slipped down your cheek and he cupped your face, panic stealing into his gut and making his stomach drop. He wiped your tears away, already knowing he was going to give you whatever you wanted. If youâd asked him to lay down and die for you, he wouldâve done it without a second thought.
âYouâre being so mean, chef, when I was so good for you,â you whimpered, your hips worked against his hand. The movement reminded Jack of how heâd been teasing you with his fingers, dragging you to the edge of desperation when all you wanted was to be full of him.
âOh, baby, baby, baby,â Jack groaned, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
He held your face in one hand as he kissed you, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips, while the other tugged your panties to the side. He pushed one of his thick fingers into your tight, dripping hole, swallowing your moan like it was the most exquisite decadence heâd ever tasted.
âIâm sorry, angel, youâre right,â he rumbled against your mouth, pumping his finger steadily into your pussy, feeling your gummy walls gripping him tight. âYou were such a good girl for meâso good that âm gonna make you come on my fingers, alright?â
âPromise?â you asked, pouting up at him from under your lashes, and Jack knew he was in trouble, because that look on your face could get him to do anything you asked.
The corner of your mouth twitched, like you were holding back a grin, and Jackâs heart thumped in his chest because you knew the effect you had on him. He liked that a little too much. He liked that you werenât afraid of torturing him a little bit after heâd teased you a little too much. It felt intimate, like you were building something real together, something that would certainly last past the night.
âI promise, angel,â he cooed, stroking his finger deeper before adding a second one, watching the way your breath caught on a gasp, biting back a self-satisfied smirk. âThereâs a rule in my kitchen, yâknow,â he went on, talking out of his ass to keep your attention on him even as he finger-fucked your pussy. âGood girls always get to come on the chefâs fingersâand youâve been such a good girl for me, baby.â
You let out a soft, breathy giggle at that, just like Jack had hoped, and he pumped his fingers harder into your wet, gripping cunt, making your laugh devolve into a dirty moan. Your body went loose and languid in his arms, and he rewarded you by pressing his thumb against your clit. He rubbed the little bundle of nerves, watching how you reacted until he found exactly what you liked most.
âThink you can take another, sweetheart?â Jack asked, pressing kisses to your heated cheeks and cleaning away the remnants of your tears with his lips. He trailed his mouth down to your neck, enjoying the way you shivered when his stubble rasped against your sensitive skin. âCan you take one more finger in this sweet cunt, baby?â
âYes, please, chef,â you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin through his thin t-shirt.
Every pinprick became throbbing pleasure as it zinged down to his cock. He hadnât been so close to coming in his pants since he was a teenager, but he fought off his own desire and focused on you. You and your pleasure were what mattered to him, not his dick.
âGood girl,â Jack purred, grinning into your neck when your pussy pulsed at the praise. He eased a third finger into your slick hole, biting back a groan when your tight warmth enveloped him. He pressed his cock against your soft thigh, looking down and watching your pussy take his thick fingers. âFuck, angel, look at youâtaking me so well.â
You leaned back, looking down your body, and Jack knew the moment you saw his fingers disappearing inside your cunt because you clamped down hard around him, like your body was trying to suck him deeper. He stifled another helpless groan, pumping into you, pressing against a spot that had you shivering and moaning wantonly.
You fell back further, planting your hands on the counter to hold yourself up, trying to use your leverage to bear down further on his fingers. But youâd barely rocked your hips in a slow roll when you let out a cryâthe tenor making the hairs on the back of Jackâs neck stand upâas your arms gave out and you fell backward.
Quick as he could, Jack slid his free arm up your back, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to catch you before your head could hit the shelves above the counter. He pulled his hand from between your legs, holding onto your bare thigh with his sticky fingers as he ducked his head to meet your eyes.
âWhatâs wrong, baby? What happened?â he asked, his gaze searching your face, which was twisted like you were trying to hide your pain. âDid I hurt you?â he asked, his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the thought.
You shook your head, rejecting the idea, which calmed Jack for a moment. Until you spoke.
âMy wrist,â you whimpered. âHurts.â
It took all of a second for Jack to understand what had happened. Youâd put too much pressure on the wrist that your worthless excuse of a date had grabbed, had hurt, and it had given out. Rage flooded through Jackâs body, his blood pumping hot with the desire to track down Curtis Larsen and beat him to a bloody pulp.
But Jack knew that wouldnât help anyone, least of all you, so he worked to rein in his anger. He focused on you, making sure you could sit up on your own before taking the hand of your injured wrist in his.
When he held it up to the bright lights in the kitchen, he could see bruises had formed where Curtis had grabbed you. Before he could stop it, a choked off growl rumbled beneath his sternum, the animalistic sound only ceasing when you stroked your palm down his chest, soothing him.
It took Jack another moment to collect himself, to gather his anger and put it in a box to deal with later. Gently, he lifted your hurt wrist to his mouth and brushed the sweetest, softest butterfly kisses over the bruises mottling your skin.
âIâd kill him if I thought I could get away with it,â Jack confessed, hoping to make you giggle again, his eyes lifting to your face to watch your reaction.
Although you didnât laugh, his words did the trick of bringing the spark back into your eye. A shy smile curved the corners of your pretty mouth, and you lifted your other hand to cup Jackâs jaw, your thumb teasing over the stubble on his cheek.
âHeâs not worth the effort,â you said, and though Jack agreed with you, he didnât like the idea of letting Curtis Larsen get away with hurting you.
âHmm,â Jack hummed noncommittally, wondering if he could call the police tomorrow and report the man for assault since itâd happened in his restaurant.
He liked that idea.
He liked the idea of locking up Curtis Larsen and throwing away the key even more. But you were his priority, not that jackass that had been your date, so he focused back on you.
Jack squeezed your thigh, his thumb teasing close to the edge of your panties. âDo you want to keep going, sweetheart?â he asked, his gaze watching you carefully. âI can take you home if youâd prefer.â
The change in your expression was immediate, your lower lip pushing out in a pout, your eyes widening and looking at Jack from under your lashes.
âI want to keep going,â you murmured, almost shyly, meeting Jackâs gaze before it dropped to his mouth. Your free hand fell to his arm, moving his hand from your thigh back between your legs then looking up at him. âI donât want my shitty date to ruin our nightâand you promised me Iâd get to come on your fingers.â
A small smile curved Jackâs mouth and he ducked forward, stealing a quick kiss from your pouting lips before he pulled away. His grin was cocky as he pushed your panties to the side and teased your tight hole with the tips of his fingers.
âYouâre rightâand I always keep my promises, baby,â he assured you, pressing his fingers into your pussy while he watched you closely, making sure he didnât hurt you.
Once they were buried inside you, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your injured wrist, then brought your hand to his shoulder. He gave you a pleased smile when you lifted your other arm to circle loosely around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape.
âHold on to me, angel,â Jack urged, easing his fingers out, then back inside your pussy, feeling your slick, tight cunt stretch around him. He watched your eyes go hazy with lust, your mouth falling open as you panted through your pleasure. âIâll make you feel goodâmake you forget everything that happened tonight before I came to your table.â
With a soft, sweet sigh, you draped your arms over Jackâs shoulders, taking all the weight off your wrists, and leaned forward to nuzzle into the side of his neck. Warmth suffused his body, his cock twitching in his jeans when he felt you press a kiss to the underside of his scruffy jaw.
âThank you, Jack,â you murmured, your voice almost low enough to be drowned out by the quiet whir of machinery in the kitchen. Your warm breath brushed against Jackâs throat and he had to suppress a shiver, focusing on your words. âYouâre all I want to remember about tonight.â
Jackâs arm tightened around your lower back, instinctively pulling you closer as his heart gave a heavy thump in his chest. Your sweet words called to something deep in his soul, something that hadnât been fed in too long for him to be normal about it.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell you he wanted to spend every night with you, that he wanted you in his bed when he woke up in the morning and to come home to you in his kitchen. He wanted to cook for you and take you out and move you in with himâŠ
But Jack knew it was way too soon to be having those thoughts, let alone say them out loud, so he put on the charm, hoping you couldnât tell where his mind had wandered.
âAnd the food, right?â he asked, his tone teasing and light as he fucked you with his fingers again, his thrusts building you back up to where youâd been. He could feel the way your body trembled in his arms, and he held you tighter so he could feel the pleasure work through you. âYou want to remember the food, right, sweetheart?â
You huffed a laugh against Jackâs neck, your tongue darting out and swiping up the side of his throat, making him groan helplessly at the obscene feeling of you licking him. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, his cock grinding against your soft inner thigh.
âOh yes, chef,â you purred in his ear, your voice shaky and breathless and so, so sweet as he pumped his fingers into you harder, his thumb rubbing your clit. âI want to remember everything I got to taste tonight.â
Your words conjured images of your pert mouth on Jackâs cock, your teasing tongue swirling around the tip, licking up his precum before sucking him deep between your soft lips. It was such a hot image, Jack had to duck his head and muffle his tortured groan into your shoulder.
It took him a full minute to get himself together, your giggles echoing softly in the empty kitchen while your nails raked through his silver curls. Once he was able to focus again on the present, Jack pressed his mouth to your collarbone, licking and sucking your skin down to your tits, pushing the top of your dress down so he could take your nipple into his mouth.
The older man was rewarded with a sharp cry from your lips, your spine arching and pressing your tits further into his mouth. Jack grinned into your soft flesh and began to lavish them with his attention, his fingers still working in and out of your pussy while his thumb rubbed your clit in teasing, maddening circles.
It occurred to Jack that he could stay right where he was for a long, long time and be happy to keep sucking on your tits, learning what made you squirm and moan, all while he fucked your cunt with his fingers. But all too soon, you were hovering on the edge of your release, your pussy fluttering around Jackâs fingers, your cries turning high-pitched and desperate while your body worked to find your pleasure.
Your fingers were threaded in his hair, clutching his head tight to your chest as you moaned and rocked your hips harder on his fingers. Mindless pleas were falling from your kiss-swollen lips, frantic appeals for âmoreâ and âharderâ, begging him to give you the release you needed.
Jack was torn between drawing out the moment, making it last forever, and giving you what you wanted. Eventually, his need to take care of you won out, and he pushed his fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb mercilessly rubbing your clit while he lifted his head from your chest.
âCome for me, sweetheart,â he growled in your ear. âShow me what a good girl you are and come all over chefâs fingersâlet go, let me see you come for me.â He pressed his fingers against that spot deep inside your body and stroked your clit, feeling you tighten around him.
Pulling back enough to see your face, Jack watched you succumb to pleasure, your release taking hold of your body and making you throw your head back, a desperate, breathy cry bursting from your mouth. Your fingers tightened in hair, and your pussy clamped down on his fingers, making him work to keep fucking you through the waves of pleasure surging through your body, which trembled in his arms.
âGood girl,â Jack rumbled, his fingers slowly sliding in and out of your pulsing channel, wringing every ounce of bliss from your body. âSweet girl, perfect girl.â
You curled forward and sobbed your pleasure into Jackâs neck, and when you shuddered at the overstimulation of his fingers, he gently eased you down from your peak. Once your release had ebbed, he slipped his fingers out of your body, and helped you to sit up.
âYou gonna keep being a good girl and clean me up, baby?â he asked, touching his wet, dripping fingers to your plump lower lip. Jack didnât know what had come over him, but the desire to see you taste yourself was too great to ignore, and he hoped he wasnât making you uncomfortable.
He was pleased when your already unfocused eyes went even more hazy, your head nodding and a smile curling the edges of your mouth before you parted your lips and let Jack slip his fingers inside. You hummed a happy sound that went straight to Jackâs dick then got to work cleaning your own release from his skin.
It was such an erotic sight that Jack thought he could watch you suck on his fingers for the rest of the night, but then he realized heâd given away the opportunity to taste you himself and he got ridiculously jealous. You werenât done cleaning him up, but he pulled his fingers from between your lips and shoved them into his own mouth.
Jack groaned at your taste, savoring the musky flavor of your pleasure while he held your gaze, letting you watch him lick his fingers clean. Your eyes were hooded and full of renewed lust, your lips swollen and parted as you panted for him.
He couldnât stop himself. Between one breath and the next, his mouth was crushing against yours in a mindless, feral kiss. He could taste your pussy on your tongue when his delved into your mouth and it drove him wild. His arms wrapped around your body, crushing you to his chest while he kissed you harder, groaning when your fingers pressed into his spine and clung to him just as tightly.
âJack, I want more,â you cried when your lips wrenched free from his, your fingers trailing around his ribs and down over his stomach until you could cup his thick erection through his jeans. âI need you inside meâneed you filling me until Iâm so full of your cock, itâs all I can think about.â
âFuck, angel, you beg so pretty, how can I say no?â Jack teased, his voice only a little unsteady. He tried to pull away, but couldnât bring himself to when you were stroking his cock through his pants, wringing desperate whimpers from him that wouldâve embarrassed him if you werenât smiling like the cat that got the cream. âCâmere, baby, let me fill up that greedy pussy of yours.â
But when Jack grabbed your ass and pulled you close to he could thrust into your pussy through your clothes, he felt a twinge of pain in his leg where it rubbed uncomfortably against his prosthetic. The pain shot straight up his spine, making his mind go completely blank for a moment, his breath catching in his lungs.
During work, Jack could typically grit his teeth and bear the pain when it hit, but heâd been on his feet for too long. Heâd pushed himself beyond his own limits and his body was reminding him that he wasnât the young, spry man heâd once been.
âJack?â you asked, your voice thick with concern.
The older man took stock of himself, and realized heâd half collapsed against you, his head on your shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants as he breathed through the pain. Heâd shifted his weight to his one good foot, leaving him a little off-balance and using you to steady himself.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly, stroking your fingers comfortingly through his hair and across his shoulders. When he relaxed into your touch, you held him tighter, not seeming to mind that he was putting some of his weight on you.
âMy prosthetic,â he grumbled, not entirely happy that this was how he was telling you, but not shying away from the truth either. âHurts.â
âYour prosthetic?â you asked after a moment, and Jack paid close attention to the tone of your voice. You sounded confused, maybe a little curious, but Jack was relieved that there wasnât revulsion or, worse, pity in your tone.
âLost my leg while I was in the army,â he explained, taking a deep breath as he began to recover his strength. The pain had subsided, leaving him a little shaky and off-balance, but fine.
âOh, okay,â you said, nothing but acceptance in your tone.
Your fingers were still idly playing with Jackâs hair and that, more than anything else, helped him feel betterâthough he knew heâd have to get off his feet soon. He was trying to work out how to tell you he couldnât fuck you on the counter in this position when you took him by surprise with another question.
âIs that how you got the medal?â
Jack paused. Of all the questions you couldâve askedâand heâd heard most, if not all of themâthat wasnât one heâd anticipated. Most folks didnât know about the medal, and it took him a moment to remember that he kept it on his desk in his office, where youâd spent most of the evening.
The realization that youâd been curious enough about him to look through his desk made his heart soar, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. For some reason, it didnât bother him, you going through his things. It felt right, the idea of you being comfortable in his space.
âWere you snooping through my stuff, sweetheart?â Jack asked teasingly, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze, curious about how youâd react to the question.
He watched your eyes widen slightly, your gaze darting away before returning to his with a sheepish look on your face. âIt was on top of your desk,â you mumbled, shrugging, then wincing at how blithe you sounded. âI didnât go through any drawers or anything, I swear.â
Jack couldnât help but chuckle at how guilty you looked, and he smoothed a hand down your spine in a reassuring gesture. âYouâre adorable,â he murmured, capturing your lips in a kiss to let you know you were forgiven. âAnd yes, itâs how I got the medal. Iâve made peace with it, but sometimes, it makes thingsâŠtricky.â
You nodded somberly as you absorbed that information, your eyes dropping down to where Jack was still half-leaning against you. The chef could practically see the gears turning in your head as you thought, but he was still taken by surprise when you lifted your gaze back to his and asked, âWould it help if I was on top?â
Your question made Jack pause again. Heâd been with his wife already when heâd lost his leg, and sheâd helped him figure out what worked afterward. It had given him the confidence heâd needed to eventually move on after sheâd passed on. But the few flings heâd had since werenât as easily accepting as you, and none of them had been as considerate.
It made Jackâs heart clench in his chest as he realized all over again how glad he was to have found you. Although he wished the circumstances of your meeting were differentâhe wished youâd never been hurt by your dateâhe was grateful that the universe had brought you together.
âYeah, actually, it would,â Jack said, matching your serious tone with his honesty.
It was another moment where the weight of his feelings for you took him by surprise, especially after knowing you for such a short time. In an effort not to scare you away by revealing how he felt, he used his charm to lighten the mood. Ducking his head, he caught your eye and let a smirk play on his lips.
âDo you wanna ride me, baby?â he asked, his tone teasing, his smirk spreading into a full-blown confident grin when lust bloomed in your eyes, none of it tainted by pity or fear or disgust. It made his cock throb for you. âWanna ride chefâs cock and make us both feel good?â
âYes, please, chef. Iâd love to ride you,â you purred, pushing him gently back to give you room to move.
You held his gaze as you reached beneath the hem of your dress and wiggled until youâd yanked your panties off, looking at him expectantly. Jack unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, shoving his jeans and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free.
He watched your eyes dart down, then widen when you took in the size of his thick cock. His dick wasnât the longest, but it was fat enough that his three fingers stretching your pussy would feel small in comparison. Suddenly, he hoped you werenât afraid.
It was on the tip of his tongue to reassure you, to tell you that you could stop this at any time and the two of you could go slow if that was what you needed. But before he could get the words out, your eyes lifted to his and he saw the spark of eager excitement in their depths, in the curve of your grin.
You looked like a sultry creature feral with lust, your pretty, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a sensuous smile as you hopped off the counter and prowled closer to him, only wobbling a little in your heels. Jack reached for you at the same moment you spun him around and shoved him onto the counter so you could climb on top of him.
âIâm gonna make us feel sooo good, chef,â you promised, settling your knees on either side of Jackâs hips and rising up, wrapping your fingers around his thick cock. Jackâs hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up so he could see your bare pussy where you rubbed the tip of his dick through your slick folds. âGonna ride your cock until youâre coming hard in my cunt. Tell me you want it, tooâplease, chef.â
For a moment, all words fled Jackâs mind. All he could do was feel the teasing warmth of your pussy kissing the tip of his cock, hear the soft wet sounds of your desire, smell the scent of your arousal. All he could see was you, looking like a goddess above him, promising him pleasure.
Fuck, Jack Abbot really was in heaven, and he hoped he never had to leave.
You were right where you were meant to be.
You couldnât explain what had come over youâwhether it was simply the lust youâd felt at the sight of the older manâs thick cock or if it was everything about the chefâbut you had the sense that everything youâd been through that night was worth it because youâd met Jack Abbot.
He was everything youâd been looking for in a partnerâkind and capable, charming and funnyâand plenty that you hadnât known youâd wanted, like the way he could talk just as dirty as you, and cook way better than you ever could. Heâd been gentle when heâd kissed your injured wrist, but hadnât held back when heâd fucked you with his fingers, giving it to you as rough as you needed to get off.
Jack had made you feel safe and desired. Heâd taken care of you in every way youâd needed throughout the night, and you were in serious danger of falling for him. If you hadnât already. It mightâve been a little crazy, but you mightâve fallen for him already.
The weight of your feelings were too heavy to tell the chef just yet, so you focused instead on the moment, on the feeling of Jackâs broad tip teasing between the lips of your pussy, of the firm grip of his hands on your hips, and the heat of his eyes as he watched you tease his cock.
It was intoxicating, seeing the unrestrained lust in Jackâs face, darkening his hazel eyes and twisting his mouth into something feral and hungry. The thought crossed your mind that you could try to tease him until he snapped, the last remnants of his patience falling away as he yanked you down on his cock. But just the fantasy had you pulsing with need.
You needed Jackâs cock inside you. Immediately.
But before you could start to lower yourself down on Jackâs bare length, you remembered yourself. You paused, hovering above his thick, throbbing cock, and took a breath to steady yourself. Still, your voice was a little shaky as you spoke.
âIâm on birth control; Iâve been tested, and it was clear,â you rushed to say, hoping Jack could understand your words even as they tripped over each other to fall off your tongue. You braced one hand on his shoulder and looked dead in the older manâs eyes. âI want you bare, Jack, please.â
âJesus,â he cursed, letting his head fall against your chest. His shoulders were trembling slightly, and it took a moment for the man to get himself together to look at you. You wanted him without a condom too badly to rush him. âIâm all clear, too, angel,â he rasped, staring into your eyes. âIt would be the honor of my life to fuck you raw, baby.â
Your heart soared, battering against your ribs like a caged bird wanting to take flight. You were so overcome by emotion, by your desire for this man, that you couldnât think of doing anything else but kiss him. Jack cupped your face while your fingers sank into his steel gray curls, both of you holding each other tight as you kissed, hard and deep, with all the wild, unfettered emotion you felt.
Before the kiss even ended, you were already pressing down on his cock, only pulling away from Jackâs mouth when the tip pushed inside your body, the stretch making you gasp. He was wider than anything youâd taken before, and it sent a filthy shiver sliding down your spine as you felt your body straining to take him.
âGod, Jack, youâre soâfuck, youâre so fucking big,â you whimpered, your eyes crossing a little as you lowered yourself another inch, grateful that heâd already finger-fucked you to orgasm once, since it made the slide slightly easier. You shuddered with the effort not to impale yourself all at once, knowing it would be a mistake if you didnât go slow.
âCareful, sweetheart, donât hurt yourself,â Jack warned, but there was a hint of a teasing chuckle in his tone that drove you wild, your pussy clenching around and suckling on the tip of his cock. His words devolved into a pleasured groan that trickled down your spine like warm honey. âFuck, I can feel you squeezing me alreadyâyouâre so tight and warm and wet. Jesus.â
âUh huh, uh huh, so wet for you,â you babbled, bouncing a little on Jackâs cock to take him deeper. Your pussy stretched to accomodate him and the feeling of fullness stole the breath from your lungs. âYouâre splitting me open so good, Jack, fuckâfuck, chef.â
âMm,â Jack hummed, his hands kneading your ass and sliding up your spine beneath your dress, pulling you flush against his chest. His mouth found your neck, pressing kisses to your skin that had you shivering in his arms. âYouâre gonna take it all, arenât ya, baby,â he rumbled into the hollow of your throat, âbecause youâre such a good girl for me, huh?â
You couldnât explain it, but Jackâs words had a ridiculous effect on you, making your pussy gush even more while your heart soared. Your hips rolled, pressing down determinedly and taking his cock nearly to the root, the stretch dragging a gasp from your lips while you clutched the older man close, reveling in the feel of his mouth on your neck.
âYuh huh, your good girl,â you moaned, feeling Jackâs cock deep in your body. It filled you up so good, stretching you nearly to your limit, but youâd gone slow enough that it didnât hurtâjust made you impatient to have all of him.
You squirmed in his lap, lifting up and pressing back down, taking more and more of him with every downward thrust. Jack chuckled darkly as his hands hand returned to your hips, groping you with those thick, skillful fingers of his while he helped you bounce on his cock.
âThatâs right, my good girl,â Jack rumbled, the possessiveness in his voice making your whole body clench, wringing a desperate groan from his mouth. He pulled you closer at the same moment when you spread your knees wide, and the result was your body being finally fully impaled on his cock.
The sudden, complete fullness was a delicious shock to your system and you wrapped yourself tightly around Jack, your arms circling his shoulders while you trembled and adjusted to the size of his fat cock buried in your cunt. It took you a breath to return to the moment, feeling Jackâs hands smoothing over your bare thighs in soothing gestures.
âAtta girl,â Jack praised, pressing a kiss to your sweat-damp temple. âYouâre taking me so well, sweetheart. Feels like you were made for meâmade to take my cock.â
A soft, breathy laugh burst from your lips, because those words were exactly what you wanted to hear, and it surprised you to hear them from Jackâs mouth. It made you feel like you werenât alone in the big, overwhelming feelings you were having too soon for the chef, and you pressed your face into his shoulder to silence yourself before you said something too soon.
Instead, you focused on the feel of Jack. Every little movement of your body had his cock shifting inside your tight channel, his heavy length dragging against your sensitive inner walls, making your surprised laughter turn into a helpless moan.
âYou feel sooo good,â you murmured, rocking your hips and getting lost in sensation. With your head fuzzy and full of pleasure, you sat up enough to look into Jackâs face, staring deep into his eyes. âIf I was made to take anyoneâs cock, Jack, Iâd want it to be yours,â you said, not realizing until the words were out of your mouth just how revealing they were.
But instead of the depth of your desire scaring the chef, his gaze turned more intense, and a flicker of a smile played around the corner of his mouth. He drew you closer, until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth away from his. His eyes were hot and dark as they stared deep into your soul.
âIâm so glad you came into my restaurant tonight, angel,â Jack rasped, so much genuine affection in his tone, it made you melt further into him, your knees squeezing his hips while you clung to his shoulders. âMeeting you has made this the best night of my lifeâI hope youâll let me see you again.â
âOh, Jack,â you whispered, tears stinging your eyes, not from sadness but a boundless happiness. You tried to blink them away, embarrassed to be crying while Jackâs cock was still buried in your body, but the older man didnât seem to mind, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and brushing away the few tears that fell. âIâd really like to see you again, too.â
âGood,â he said, his voice so decisive that you knew it was settled. Your heart soared in your chest, and a smile broke across your face. You couldnât have said which of you leaned forward first, closing the distance so your mouths came together in a kiss, a promise.
The kiss was slow and sensual, one of Jackâs hands cupping the back of your head while you explored each other. It was a delicious kiss, made all the more exquisite when Jackâs tongue licked into your mouth, drawing needy sounds from your lips as he kissed you deeper, like he wanted to remind you that he was buried in more than one of your holes.
You barely noticed when your hips began to rock, fucking yourself on Jackâs big cock. But when his hands dropped to your hips, urging you on, you had to pull away from his mouth with a gasp.
Tossing your head back, you focused on riding your chef, lifting up onto your knees and slamming back down on his hard, thick length. It was dizzyingly glorious, the heat and hardness of him filling your tight hole, punching the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but let out mindless sounds of pleasure.
âThatâs my girl, fuck yourself on my cock,â Jack murmured encouragingly, his hands on your ass helping you lift yourself up and slide back down his stiff shaft. He groaned, loud enough to drown out the wet sounds of your pussy and the soft clap of your ass hitting his thighs. âFuck, angel, you feel so goodâsuch a good girl, riding chefâs cock like a fucking champ.â
A shiver raced down your spine at his praise and your fingers tangled in Jackâs hair, bracing yourself so you could bounce harder on his cock. Every thrust of his dick deep into your cunt was driving your pleasure higher, until your head was filled with clouds and your body was tingling, balancing on the precipice of your release.
âYes, yes, yes, your girl, your good girl,â you panted, your eyes heavy-lidded but still open as you watched Jackâs face, his skin flushed red, making his freckles stand out in stark relief. âPlease, chef, Iâm so closeâplease, I needâŠâ
Your words devolved into a moan as Jack took control of your body, changing the angle of your hips so your clit was grinding against the base of his cock. All you could do was gasp and whimper and whine and try to hold on to him while he helped you ride him.
âMy sweet girl, my perfect girl, my gorgeous girl,â Jack cooed, punctuating his words by pulling you down on his cock over and over and over again, making sure your clit rubbed against him with each thrust. âI know what my girl needsâcome for me, pretty girl. Wanna see you let go, wanna feel you come on my cock, baby, please.â
Jackâs words and the way he guided your body, helping you find your pleasure, were your undoing. Tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core until it suddenly snapped. You were sent tumbling over the edge of your release, every muscle in your body pulling taut before you exploded with a wailing cry, pleasure crashing through you in violent, euphoric waves.
A groan tore from Jackâs mouth and his arms tightened around your body. He held you crushed against his chest, moaning his own pleasure into your neck while his hips jerked between your thighs, fucking you through both your releases.
You clung on to him, your body writhing on top of his as you eked out every bit of bliss from each other, until the waves of your release began to recede. With a sated sigh, you collapsed against the older manâs shoulder, fingers raking idly through his hair while his hands stroked everywhere on your body he could reachâyour hips, your thighs, even down your calves and up your spine beneath your dress.
Between your thighs, you could feel his hot release beginning to leak from your hole, and you squirmed a little at the strange feeling of loss that settled in your gut. Jack pressed one of his palms to your lower back, urging you to settle on his lap, and you let yourself relax, reveling in the feeling of his softening cock still filling your pussy.
After giving you a few moments to recover, Jackâs fingers trailed down the side of your face where your head was laying on his shoulder. He curled a finger around your chin and tilted your head up enough so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.
âAlright, angel girl?â he asked softly, his voice so low and raspy, it sent little tingles dancing down your spine. You smiled against his mouth.
âSooo good,â you answered, your mouth quirking into a smirk as you continued. âOr should I say, âThank you, chef, that really hit the spotâ?â
Jack huffed a surprised laugh, squeezing you tight in his arms as he shook his head. âWhat am I gonna do with you, baby girl?â
It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jack that what he should do was take you back to his place and keep you forever. That thought was so surprisingâyouâd only known him for one night!âand felt so right, that instead of answering, you kissed him.
You could feel the smile on his lips before he kissed you back, and that little expression had you realizing just how fond youâd grown of the chef in such a short time. It was so astonishingly easy to picture yourself going home with Jack, sleeping in his bed, cuddled up in his arms, then having breakfast together in the morning.
The night had started with you not expecting much from your date. You thought maybe youâd hit it off and see him again, but you hadnât dared to have much hope.
And now, the night was ending with you kissing a different man, one youâd only just met, and wanting so much more with him. You wanted to get to know Jack Abbot and see if your initial compatibility and attraction could lead to something more.
For the first time in a long time, you had hope. It felt like everything that had happened earlier in the evening was fate conspiring to bring you and Jack togetherâand you were all too excited to see where things would go.
The best part, you realized, as Jack kissed you back, his mouth moving sensuously against yours, was that he seemed just as excited to get to know you, too. Heâd shown you nothing but green flags all night, and had even already asked to see you again. It felt like something close to magic to know that the man you liked, liked you back.
A smile fluttered at the corner of your mouth as you let yourself focus on kissing Jack, knowing thereâd be time to overthink everything later. For the time being, you wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with your chef, because you were certain it was the beginning of something beautiful.
For a long while, the two of you were making out just for the fun of it, for the enjoyment of being with each other, until Jackâs soft cock slipped from your body and made you shiver. He grabbed his leather jacket from where youâd tossed it on the counter and wrapped it around your shoulders, giving you one last kiss before he began to ease you off his lap.
âIâve got to clean up here,â he said, tucking his cock away and zipping up his jeans before he helped you straighten your dress, his eyes wandering shamelessly over your body, like he hadnât yet had his fill of worshipping you. âOnce Iâm done, I can take you home. Sound good, sweetheart?â
âThat depends,â you said, your fingers snagging in the hem of Jackâs white t-shirt, preventing him from moving too far away. You werenât usually the clingy type, but you couldnât bear to be away from him just yet. âAre you gonna take me back to my place, or yours?â
The older manâs gaze darkened and his hands settled on your hips, pulling you close again. Your arms wound instinctively around his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair in a way that already felt so comfortable and familiar.
âI was planning to take you to your home,â Jack began, a smirk curling his mouth when you pouted up at him from under your lashes. âBut if youâd like, I can take you back to mine.â His eyes softened as he looked at you, his smirk melting into a smile. âIâd love to cook you breakfast, sweetheart.â
The depth of the affection in Jackâs gaze and his words made you feel suddenly shy, and you ducked your head a little. âIâd like that,â you murmured, sneaking a peek at him and finding the chef grinning like heâd just won the lottery. It gave you the confidence to lift your head and give him a confident smirk. âBe careful, though, if you keep making me such delicious food, youâll never get rid of me.â
Something devilish flickered across Jackâs face and his smirk was all smug confidence as he swooped in and stole a kiss from your lips, leaving you breathless when he pulled away a moment later. âThatâs the plan, angel girlâIâm gonna keep you around any way I can until you get sick of me.â
You were already shaking your head before heâd even finished talking, your fingers tugging lightly, admonishingly, on his hair. âThatâll never happen,â you said, your tone more serious than youâd intended. But your honesty was rewarded with Jackâs mouth twisting into a smile and him kissing you again.
It was such a privilege, you realized, to be with someone who wanted you just as badly as you wanted themâwho liked you just as much as you liked them. From the moment youâd met him, Jack had made you feel safe, had taken care of you, had shown you that you were special simply for being you. And you hoped youâd done the same for him.
When Jack finally pulled away from the kiss, you whined a little, making him chuckle. âCâmon, baby girl, letâs clean up and go home,â he rumbled, kissing each of your cheeks, then your nose, before giving you one last kiss on your mouth.
His words and his sweet kisses had you smiling and giggling, and you nodded, your heart warm and light as you let Jack move away to begin cleaning up his workstation. As he did, you fetched your things from his office, turning off the light and closing the door.
By the time youâd returned, Jack was done, and he held his hand out for you to take. You did so happily, handing off your jacket and purse for him to carry when he offered.
Stepping out into the brisk, spring evening, a breeze sweeping through Pittsburgh and making you glad to have Jackâs jacket around your shoulders, you felt like you were leaving the little bubble you and the chef had created. But as you watched him lock up the back door of Night Shift, using only one hand so he could keep holding yours, you knew you didnât need that bubble.
You may have had to endure the date from hell to meet Jack Abbot, but it felt like fate had designed the night so that you ended up right where you were meant to beâwith the hot, older chef who looked at you with so much awe and affection, it made your heart pitter-patter in your chest.
Jack walked you to his car, pushing you gently against the passenger door to kiss you some more before he helped you into the seat. He held your hand as he drove you back to his place, kissing your knuckles every few minutes, then leaning across the center console to kiss your mouth after heâd parked in front of his house.
The two of you didnât talk much as you got ready for bed, but you didnât need to. A comfortable silence had fallen over you and Jack, and you didnât feel the need to fill it, especially with how tired you were. You changed into one of his t-shirts, brushed your teeth with the extra toothbrush he had on hand and cleaned your makeup off your face.
When you slipped into bed beside Jack, he was still massaging his leg, easing the pain heâd felt from wearing his prosthetic all night. You hoped heâd one day let you do that for himâhelp him to relieve the ache of the dayâs grind from his leg, his shoulders, and anywhere else that might pain him.
Before you could gather the courage to offer, though, Jack turned and slid under the sheets beside you. He wrapped you up in his arms, and both of you let out little sighs of contentment. You didnât know what exactly Jack was thinking, but you suspected it felt just as right to him as it did to you to be in his bed and in his arms.
You fell asleep knowing in your heart that you were right where you were meant to beâwith Jack Abbot.
thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! âĄâĄâĄ
Okay so that was fantastic as usual!!! This is everything! The glimpses of unsureness about how much they are feeling for each other & watching them get more comfortable & confident with it! As always Molly, this was art! I am wrecked. #needthat
