Page 39 of Call Me Sir

We’re swaying to the music and my dick gets hard instantly. God his body feels so good against mine.

I want to say screw dinner and tell him to screw me.

His answer comes by way of one hand roaming to my ass and gently kneading it. Simultaneously he bends down and grazes his teeth along my neck. Then he sucks, hard.

The sounds that escape me are embarrassing but I don’t dare stop them. I know what he likes.

Moving along my neck he switches between sucking and grazing and my entire body coils against his, begging for attention.

“Take me.”

It’s a desperate plea as I’m practically humping him.

“Oh baby,” he whispers, those dark brown eyes leveling with mine, “we’re only just beginning.”

A shuddered sigh leaves my lips and he presses a kiss to my lips. And when he pulls away, he’s wearing the most trouble-making grin.

Sal knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

The timer goes off and he backs away leaving my throbbing cock twitching for more contact and I have to stuff away the frustration and try to switch back to the job at hand.

We both sit at the wooden high top table and eat our food.

I glance behind him often to watch the sunset bounce off buildings and paint the sky all sorts of colors.

My attention shifts back to him as he cuts a bite and makes the most delicious moan. “This tastes amazing.”

I beam and take another bite.

“Seriously, where did you learn to cook?”

I shrug. “My parents don’t like cooking so I watched a lot of cooking shows to teach myself.”

It feels odd telling him such personal details, despite the fact that we’ve had sex. A different kind of intimate.

Sipping my whiskey, I look away.

“Are you close to them?”

Damn.

“Sort of. They stay in contact and I can tell they love me.” I take another bite of food hoping it’ll end the conversation.

“But?”

Placing my fork on my table I slouch back in my chair. “They don’t love that I’m gay. My mom always tried to say I’d marry the neighbor girl I grew up with or a classmate she really liked. She’d talk about all the kids I would have. When I told her I’m gay, she didn’t say anything too negative, but I can tell I shattered her dreams for me.”

A little nod I get from him somehow gets me to keep going. “My dad hasn’t said anything. Which is almost worse. I thought he’d be mad. He’s a nice guy, loves nature. But he’s said nothing.”

Sal bobs his head.

My face is hot and my hands sweat in my lap. I need the spotlight off me. “What about your parents?”

The discomfort I felt before is child’s play compared to how I feel as I watch his shoulders tense. Those dark, intense eyes burn with anger. I forgot how chilling that look is. Have I already gotten so used to the heat between us? I much prefer the desire burning in them. “My mom died a while back. She was my number one fan. My dad hates me.”

My heart sinks. It still boggles my mind that the very existence of gay men and women can ruffle so many feathers. It’s somehow a personal slight to certain straight people.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, lamely.

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