Page 84 of Double Shot

I chuckled. I was definitely learning that Klaus liked his desserts. “They’re good. They usually have at least one kind of pie—I think cherry in the summer, apple in the winter. Umm… Chocolate cake. Peach cobbler.”

“Ooooh. I love peach cobbler.” After a pause, he continued, sounding a little shy. “I actually make a really good chocolate cake. I mean, Nat tells me it’s good, anyway, but…”

I glanced over at him with a grin. “Yeah? Well, I mean, whenever you next happen to make one, I’d love to—”

“I’ll make you one,” he interrupted eagerly, then deflated. “Except I haven’t made it in a while because the kitchen in my current place is so gross. I definitely wouldn’t want to cook anything in there that I’d serve to you.”

“Oh. Um, well, I’m sure it’s not that bad…” I began before he gasped and grabbed my thigh again.

“Oh! I’ll make a celebration cake when I move into the new house. And maybe…” His voice turned a little shy again, making my chest ache. “Maybe you can come over for dinner so we can celebrate me being in my new place.”

“I’d love that.” I had to clear my throat, because my voice was a little hoarse. “And I—Do you need help moving? I can obviously—”

“Really?” He sat up straighter, gazing at me with big eyes. “Brian, that would be amazing.”

“Of course.” I blushed, even as my insides seemed to settle and calm at the idea of being able to help him. Plus, the look he was giving me was simultaneously warming me from the inside and making me a little uncomfortable, because he was gazing at me like I was this amazing person just for offering to help him move, when in my opinion it was the bare minimum, seeing as we were dating now. Wouldn’t any guy in my position have offered the same thing?

Wouldn’t any guy in my position have done literally anything to make sure this beautiful incubus wanted to keep dating them? I knew I was punching above my weight here. I wasn’t fucking around or taking this for granted. No way in hell.

When we got to the restaurant a little while later and I’d parked and killed the engine, Klaus took my face in his hands and leaned across the centre console to plant a deep kiss on my mouth.

“Thank you,” he murmured against my mouth, then kissed me again. “You’re so sweet.”

When he pulled back, I was a little dazed, which was a common occurrence when Klaus kissed me. I blinked a few times, then fumbled with my seat belt when I realised he was unbuckling his.

“Seriously, I am starving,” he was saying cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just temporarily short-circuited my brain with a single kiss. “This place looks so nice. I love the string lights!”

“Uh, yeah,” I croaked, hurrying out of the car after him. I’d been to this steakhouse plenty of times, because my place actually wasn’t all that far from here. It did look pretty from the outside, with twinkling gold lights strung along its awning in big, draping loops. The low lighting inside was warm too, coming from the little Art Deco-style lamps on each table.

I held the door open for Klaus, and when I instinctively placed my hand on his lower back as I followed him inside, he glanced back at me with a coy little smile that made my cock twitch in my jeans. Jesus, he was so pretty.

I’d made sure to ask for a booth when I made the reservation, so when we were led to our table, we were tucked away at the side of the room and enclosed in wood panelling that muffled the general din of the restaurant. Once the waiter had taken our order and returned with my water and Klaus’s mojito mocktail, I relaxed considerably, and I knew Klaus could immediately see it, because he gave me that wide, stunningly beautiful smile after taking a sip of his drink, the little straw still between his teeth.

“Want to tell me how the shows were this weekend?” he asked, reaching across the table to play with my fingers. “Or want me to tell you about the interesting guests we got at the motel?”

I laughed, resting my elbows on the table so I could lean in closer to him. I was like a moon caught by his gravitational pull. “You go first.”

***

Klaus was a talker.

Usually I loved it. I loved listening to him, and I loved that he didn’t expect me to talk back just as much, and I loved how animated and passionate he was.

Right now, though… right now, I didn’t. Right now, it was pure fucking torture.

“Mmm, you’re so hard.” The words were slurred with lust, mumbled between deep, tongue-thrusting kisses. “Fuck, I already miss your dick, Brian. It’s so pretty. And it feels so good.”

I groaned helplessly into his mouth. The painfully hard dick in question was straining in my jeans, being stimulated incessantly by Klaus’s grinding hips as he straddled my lap.

We were in the front seat of my car, parked outside his apartment building. This was supposed to have just been a simple goodnight kiss when I dropped him off, but it had… escalated rapidly.

Every few seconds, when my hands itched to wander to Klaus’ pert ass, or sneak down the front of his pants to fist his cock, or haul him into the back seat so I could get some part of him in my mouth, I had to remind myself of my rule.

My stupid fucking rule.

No, it’s not stupid, the sensible part of my brain—barely operating at this point—reminded me. It’s to show him that you don’t just want him for sex. It’s to prove that you value him as a person, and respect him, and are interested in far more than just fucking. Just because something is agonisingly, ball-bustingly difficult doesn’t mean it’s stupid or not worth doing.

“When we end the no-sex rule,” Klaus said between more wet, messy kisses, as if he’d heard my thoughts and decided my current torture wasn’t complete enough, “I’m going to ride your dick so good you forget your own name.”