Page 51 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Ten

Rob

A mber was one smart cookie. The bake-off, which was really more of a “vote for your favorite free bagel or pizza sample of the day” was a huge hit. Great H Bagels and Boardwalk Pizza had lines out the door every day, though at different times. We were busy from dawn to early afternoon, and Mateo and his cousins were swamped from late morning to closing.

The ad campaign was pure genius. Our interview with the local paper had been picked up by the San Francisco Chronicle and had made the front page of the sports section. Nice, but it was nothing compared to the social media frenzy Amber had ignited with a few reels featuring Mateo and me in uniform in college mashed with current clips of us in our respective shops, making bagels, slinging pizza dough, and proudly representing Haverton.

We were asked to attend a recent football game together where we’d been surrounded by eager fans who’d wanted autographs, selfies, and a chance to chat with a couple of OG Great H players. I’d drawn the NFL crowd for sure, but Mateo was popular with the locals. He was gorgeous and charismatic.

I overheard two old women twittering on the sidewalk outside our stores the other day.

“Oh, that Mateo is a looker, all right.”

“What I wouldn’t give to be fifty years younger.”

They’d giggled like school girls and winked at me as I’d pushed open the door to the pizzeria. I wanted to tell them I was as smitten as they were. It was true. I had a big ol’ crush on Mateo Cavaretti…a thousand times bigger than the one I’d secretly harbored in college.

Now I knew him. The real Mateo.

I could tell his real smile from the polite one reserved for customers. I knew how to tease him, make him laugh, and turn him on. I’d mapped every inch of his body, kissed his scars, and tasted him…over and over again. He was prickly yet kind, edgy yet somehow relatable. And he was so good with people—customers, family, friends.

His interactions with his cousins were always entertaining. They were like brothers to him, and his colorful Aunt Sylvie was like a second mother.

Mateo’s mother, Therese, was a petite beautiful woman in her sixties with jet-black hair and sharp eyes. He looked so much like her, it wasn’t even funny. She came by once or twice a week for a plain bagel with cream cheese on the side. An interesting order from someone who liked to give Amber and me tips about seasoning.

“Leave ’em alone, Ma,” Mateo scolded when he stopped by this morning before heading next door.

It was part of our new routine. I made him coffee, toasted an oat grain bagel with lox and capers or a scrambled egg and we’d chat about sports and current events. It had quickly become my favorite part of the morning.

But this was the first time Mateo and his mom were here together.

“I’m being nice and neighborly,” Therese protested in a lilting Italian accent, giving her son a suspicious once-over. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”

“On my way now. I just stopped by to say…” Mateo glanced my way and smiled. “Hi.”

His mom darted her gaze between us, nodding thoughtfully. “I see.”

A stream of Italian later, she patted my cheek and grinned. “ Ciao .”

Yeah, that was gonna stick with me all damn day.

“Does your mom know about us?” I asked later that night as I stirred the arrabbiata sauce simmering on the stove in Mateo’s one-bedroom apartment.

Mateo chuckled. “Yeah, she thinks you’re hot for me.”

My blush was instantaneous. “Really? Should I be alarmed?”

“That’s up to you. If you’re worried, you should know my cousins are on to us too.”

I set the spoon on the counter and turned the burner off. “Oh?”

“Yeah, but it’s ’cause you laugh at my jokes, and I’m not exactly funny.”

“Laugh at—what?” I sputtered. “I don’t laugh. I wouldn’t?—”

“Relax. I’m teasing you. They know me, Rob. They know I’m gay, and they know we’re friends now. They’ve also noticed how much time we spend together. It’s just a matter of simple deduction.”

“Oh.”

Mateo leaned against the counter. “In fact, one of them probably saw you come upstairs with me thirty minutes ago, and might think that arrabbiata is some kind of ‘hanky-panky’ code. Does that bother you?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you?—”

“I’m very sure.” I stepped between his spread thighs, crooked my forefinger under his chin, and fused our lips in an almost tender kiss.

It exploded seconds later as he grabbed my nape and drove his tongue inside. I tugged his shirt from his jeans and splayed my palm along his spine. His skin was warm and soft. I needed to feel all of him…now.

“Bedroom.” I broke the kiss and licked my lips.

Mateo’s place was a fraction of the size of mine. While my house was light and airy, decorated with the beach-themed prints and ocean-inspired colors my designer had deemed appropriate, there were no real traces of me. Mateo’s living area was filled with family lore—sturdy furniture that had once belonged to his parents, walls decorated with action photos from ski trips and wedding receptions, pics of his dad, his uncle, and more cousins than I’d thought any one person had.

The bedroom was spartan in comparison—a queen-sized bed, a nightstand that doubled as a dresser, and that was it.

Mateo stripped his shirt off and unbuckled his belt. “Let me see you.”

I yanked my shirt over my head, but that was as far as I got. I had to touch him. I pushed him onto the mattress, twirling our tongues as we rolled from side to side, making out and grinding in a furious quest for friction until I captured his wrists and straddled his torso.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Mateo hummed, testing my grip.

“Don’t fight me. I want you to do exactly as I say.” I licked the shell of his ear and whispered, “Got it?”

“ Ungh …yes.”

“Good boy. Hold on to the headboard…just like that.”

I tweaked his nipples and slid lower, making quick work of his belt and zipper. I tugged his jeans off with his shoes and socks, then crawled between his legs to look my fill. Mateo’s olive skin was a perfect backdrop for his colorful ink. His muscles were toned and taut, and my God, the light trail of hair pointing south at the bulge in his black boxer briefs was mouthwatering.

I met his gaze as I slipped my fingers under his waistband.

Mateo’s nose flared in approval. I lowered the fabric and fuck, he was beautiful—long, thick, and hard as nails.

I bent over his crotch, inhaling deeply as I licked a trail from his base to his slit. He groaned and lifted his hips. I did it again…and again. I sucked the head and played with his balls, chuckling at his growl of frustration. Mateo was too proud to beg, and I was too wired. And too damn hungry.

So I opened my mouth and swallowed him whole.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, that’s it. Oh, fuck, yeah…”

His enthusiastic moans reverberated in my throat and sent shivers up my spine. I bobbed my head, rolling his balls and tracing my thumb along his crease. I was pushing my luck and I knew it, but for some reason, I felt in tune to Mateo’s body in a way I never had with anyone else’s. Like I could read his every response from the tilt of his pelvis to the desperate tone in his plea for more.

When he grabbed a handful of my hair, I knew he’d reached the end of his rope.

I sat back and wiped my mouth. “Hands off, boy.”

Mateo clenched his jaw and growled. “I need to fucking come. Let me suck you, let me— oh…shit .”

I devoured him again, picking up the tempo as I massaged a single saliva-slicked digit between his cheeks. He spread his legs wider, giving me better access. I released him with a pop to get a good look at him while I finished undressing.

“Show me that pretty hole,” I purred, stepping out of my jeans.

He tapped his entrance. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah. You ready for me?” I slipped my finger inside his tight channel before he could reply.

He gasped. “Yeah. More.”

I obeyed, gently gliding my fingers in and out, in and out. “Stroke yourself, but don’t come.”

“Oh, my God.” Mateo squeezed his cock at the base, his eyes rolling in his head. “Just…just fuck me already. Don’t make me fucking beg.”

The self-control required not to just suit up, lube up, and mount him was on a superhuman level. After weeks of sensual exploration, I was vibrating with need. No begging necessary.

I added a third digit, working my fingers in and out of his hole a few times. Then I pulled away to grab supplies from his nightstand drawer.

My fingers trembled as I rolled on the latex and added lube. I was nervous, which was silly. This was just sex.

But it didn’t feel like meaningless sex anymore, and that should have scared me. It didn’t. At all.

I lined my sheathed cock at Mateo’s hole and pushed. We moaned, our eyes locked as I inched my way inside.

I moved slowly at first, savoring him. He was tight and hot, and so damn sexy. I rocked my hips and steadily upped the tempo till the room echoed with the sound of squeaky bedsprings and our soft hums and grunted sighs.

The carnal give-and-take was a perfect dance. I’d learned his body well over the past few weeks, and I knew Mateo liked to play a little rough. I rested my forehead on his, pistoning double time as he wrapped his legs around me and slipped a hand between our sweaty torsos.

“I’m gonna—I’m close,” he panted, jacking his cock faster still.

Fuck, I was too. I bit his bottom lip and licked it better. “Come for me, baby. Come.”

Mateo roared, shooting ribbons of jizz on both of us. That was it for me, too.

I fell apart in a blinding rush of white light, collapsing on my lover, my body quaking through the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

I panted for air, blinking through the residual haze of lust. “You okay?”

“Okay isn’t a strong enough word,” Mateo countered softly.

“I know. This is…”

“So good,” he whispered.

I kissed his brow and nodded.

It was…beautiful. I didn’t want to ruin the moment with sappy sentiments, but that didn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.

Whatever this was felt…real. The way I’d heard it was supposed to feel with the right person.