Page 17 of When London Snow Falls

Festive? I can pretend to be festive if that gets me laid.

“I bet you say that to all the baristas.”

He flashes that grin that does me in. “You’re the only one, actually.”

“I’m impressed.”

“And I’m intrigued.”

Time is counting down—time that can’t be wasted. Jasmine can only provide cover for so long. But I’m having way too much fun, so why not.

I take his hand, our grip tight as I lead him to the back of the café and unlock the door. I flip on the lights. All the better to take in the glorious sight of him. We head into the crowded stockroom full of boxes and shipping pallets, shelves brimming with equipment, and bags of coffee cups. The thundering inside me has returned in full force. As he looks around, I take a moment to slowly draw in a deep breath to steady myself. His hand is warm in mine. My fingers tighten, and he does the same in response. There’s something about that small gesture that makes me dizzy.

Our gazes meet.

“I’m gonna ride you till you come over your boots,” I tell him, rubbing against him, skimming his mohair sweater with my fingers, the softest thing. In here, like this, he seems a lot less celebrity and a lot more real. And warm. “So get ready.”

Ben unfastens my belt, giving me a level look. The buckle rattles a sharp metallic sound in the quiet of the stockroom. “You terrible man, Charlie Renfrew. I know who you are.”

“You don’t know the half of it, I’m afraid.”

His hand is already inside my trousers, fingers teasing a path down to my cock, which is caught up in the cotton of my boxers, more than ready. He’s terribly distracting, and I gasp at the thrill of his fingers. All my questions will be rather shit from this point out.

“Your gig, by the way, was brilliant. You’re wicked on guitar.” He smiles as his fingertips trace the length of me, then tease my balls. I desperately suck back air. There’s no oxygen in this room for a comeback. “Those fingers aren’t just for slinging lattes. And you’re fucking hilarious.”

“Bloody hell.” I press my cock hard into his hand. He holds me firmly. I thrust.

“Never underestimate someone who pays in cash.” His gaze is unrelenting. God, he’s glorious. The dark streaks through blond hair a tangle of shadow and light. The angles of his face. The distracting fullness of his lips as he licks them. “Believe me.”

“Suck,” I command, gripping his wrists.

He goes to his knees and then I’m in his mouth—deeper and deeper—until I gasp, his tongue merciless against the urgency of my cock. An unrelenting heat blazes from the promise of his mouth, far better than any of my daydreams since that day he first appeared at the café.

I push. He yields.

Clutching his hair, I shut my eyes to give myself over to his mouth while his hand continues its rhythm at the base of my cock.

When I can’t take this fantastic teasing anymore, I haul him up. We both hurry to unfasten his jeans, awkward in our lust as we shove down boxers to our knees. Clumsy fingers brush against each other.

He rubs his bare arse against me. “What do you think about me?”

“That’s easy. The hottest guy I’ve seen. And on guitar too,” I gasp. “Halfpenny Rise is fantastic.”

He laughs, pleased, pressing against me as he bends into the chaos on the table.

I’m fumbling for my wallet—praying I haven’t lost it—and find a lubricated condom and Ben’s continuing to tease me and somehow I get the damn thing on—and then I press one finger into him and another.

“Oh fuck, please,” Ben begs.

“You want me?” I taunt him, my fingers relentless.

“Fuck—Charlie—”

“You gotta fucking wait.”

So I tease him, because I can, and in response he presses back against me, because he can do that, too. It’s intoxicating, fucking Ben, a high worth chasing, a high that bucks and cries out in my arms. He’s lithe against me, responsive and electric. My other hand works his cock till he seeps with pre-cum, and then I slide gradually inside him, then all in, and soon enough I’m fucking him incoherent. Pure heaven.

As he shudders and gasps for more, I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping him firmly. His breath is my breath.

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