Page 6 of First Dates and Birthday Cakes: MM Romantic Comedy

When he’d said he wanted to date me before he did anything else to me, Jake wasn’t kidding. If you counted my birthday party as our first date, then tonight we were on our fourth.

I was definitely being romanced.

Our second date had been back at the rink. As a skating coach, Jake’s hours were more flexible than my office-bound nine to five. He often worked on weekday evenings, meaning that while I was finishing up and leaving the office for the day, he’d be coming off a free afternoon and be heading into evening coaching sessions.

We managed to find an overlapping couple of hours early in the week to meet in the small cafe overlooking the ice. We had coffee (mine was decaf), talking and laughing and sitting unnecessarily close to each other until his class showed up. I hung out for another half an hour after that to watch him at work, admiring his patience and unflagging good humour with his young hopefuls.

When I went over to the barrier to say goodbye, he spotted me at once and zipped over with the arousing, competent grace that had captivated me from the first moment I saw him.

He thudded gently into the boards and gripped the edge to lean over and catch my lips, all in one smooth move. He kept it to a quick peck, so as not to scandalise his students—who whooped and clapped—and I walked out smiling like a fool.

If I hadn’t already known that my heart was in big trouble as far as Jake was concerned, that kiss would have done it.

On our third date, we grabbed a quick sandwich for lunch, eating on the go as we strolled around a small park midway between the rink and my office. I lingered as long as I could, reluctant to leave, and ended up speed-walking back to my car, but not before Jake had caught me by the shirtfront, reeled me in, and given me a kiss that made it impossible to concentrate on work for the rest of the afternoon.

We’d texted, although not much. Flirting via text wasn’t my strong suit. It really wasn’t Jake’s strong suit.

His thirst-trap selfie game was on point, though, I’ll give him that.

The number of locker room and gym mirror shots I now had stored in my camera roll would have given teenage Ben carpal tunnel syndrome.

Forty-something Ben was smart enough to pace himself after the first twinge.

And here we were, two weeks later, finally on a proper date, with no one having to end it and hurry off to work.

Jake had picked me up from my house and driven us into Oxford, and I was impressed. The restaurant was fancy as hell. It served amazing Polish food that sorely tested my self-control, it was the classiest, most romantic dining establishment I’d ever been in, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Dessert, gentlemen?” the waiter asked as he was clearing the plates from our main course. He leaned past me, arm brushing my shoulder, and turned his head to give me a challenging look.

I opened my mouth to decline, but Jake beat me to it.

“Yes, please.” He reached across the table to place a warm hand over mine. I’d been twisting the stem of my wineglass between restless fingers, turning the glass one way then the other, making it glint in the candlelight. “I told you I was going to spoil you, Ben,” he said. “That means you get everything you want tonight. Everything.” He backed that last, firm, word up with a serious smoulder that had my cheeks heating.

I could hardly blame him for thinking that dessert was at the top of my list. He had, after all, watched me scoff my wishing cake on our first date, two muffins on our second date, and a Danish pastry the size of my face on our third date.

What I really wanted, though, was to scoot him out of the restaurant and into the car, and get us back home, where I could have him all to myself.

I didn’t even care what happened once I had him there.

I didn’t care if we had the wild and passionate sex that had been brewing from the moment we met, canoodled like teenagers on my sofa, or hung out and talked into the night.

I just wanted to be with him.

“Of course,” the waiter said. “I’ll bring you the menu.”

He whisked our plates away with admirable efficiency and returned with the dessert menus. He thrust one out in Jake’s direction, earning himself a narrow look, and sashayed over to my side of the table to hand me mine. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for it.

Instead of passing it to me, he set it on the table, rested one hand next to it and the other on the back of my chair, and leaned in. He ran a slender forefinger down the list and stopped, giving it a little tap. “For you, I recommend the tiramisu,” he said, turning his head to look me in the eye from three whole inches away. “Italian, but still delicious. Melts on the tongue.” His eyes flicked down and back up. “Will give you a rush, I guarantee.”

“Oh?” I said with interest, tugging the menu out from under his finger and scanning it. I glanced up at Jake. “I usually go for the brownie, but I’m up for trying something new. What do you think?”

Jake was sprawled back in his chair, watching. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good. We’ll have that. Let’s share.” He cut his gaze to the waiter. “Two spoons.”

The waiter straightened and sent him a flirty smile. “Of course.”

Jake watched him shake his perky little arse all the way across the restaurant, swinging between the crowded tables with practiced ease. Before he disappeared through the door to the kitchen, the waiter cast a quick look over his shoulder.

That flirty smile widened.

“Wow,” Jake said.

“Uh.” I was startled at him brazenly checking the guy out right in front of me. “You…? You think he’s hot?”

“What?” Jake said. Now he seemed startled. “Pawe?? No.”

“You know him?”

“Yes. This is his grandmother’s restaurant, and he used to go out with my cousin.”

“But you never…?”

“No. God, no. He’s an okay guy, but he’s not exactly my type. Too young, too full of himself, and far too bossy. That aside, he seems more into you.”

“Me?

“Ben, he’s been flirting with you since he seated us.”

“No. Has he?”

Jake’s eyebrows lifted. “He practically had you in his arms a second ago.”

He had? I thought I’d remember that.

“Seriously,” Jake said. “The bit with the menu? Leaning all over you, telling you what to order?”

“It was a recommendation. I thought it was nice of him.”

“Are you joking?”

“It was nice!”

“And you didn’t notice that he was close enough to kiss you while he was being nice?”

“No?”

“How could you not notice?”

I smiled at him. “Why would I, when I’ve got you sitting right in front of me?”

Jake’s tense expression smoothed out and he stared at me. “Do you actually want dessert?” he said suddenly.

“Not really. I’m stuffed.”

“All right.” Jake stood up. “Back in a minute,” he said, and strode off.

When he returned, he was smiling. He was also carrying our coats. “That’s that sorted,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Yep. Come on, let’s go. Up you get.”

He had me out of my chair and was herding me out of the restaurant before I knew what was happening. “What about the tiramisu?” I said.

“I cancelled it.”

I turned, bumping into him, and tried to walk back into the restaurant. “What about the bill?”

“For goodness’ sake. Ben, I paid it.”

“What’s the hurry all of a sudden?”

“You want to know what the hurry is?” He gripped my shoulders and pointed me in the direction of the car. “The hurry is, I’ve watched Pawe? flirt with you all night and you apparently didn’t notice.” He nudged me ahead of him. “On the one hand, that’s good. I didn’t want you to notice him. On the other hand, it’s bad. If you didn’t pick up on Pawe?’s interest, then there’s a good chance that you have no idea quite how into you I am. So I decided to be a bit more direct. As in, get you into bed and get inside you direct. Hard to misunderstand that level of interest.”

My knees weakened at the heavy meaning in his eyes. “I like direct. Direct is good.”

“Excellent. In the car.”

He hustled me into the car, we had a tense drive home, and then we were in my house.

As soon as the front door clicked shut, Jake was on me.

He hooked an arm around my waist and dragged me in and up against his hard body, ducking his head and getting his mouth on mine.

I threw my arms around his shoulders to keep my balance as he walked me backwards through the hall and into the sitting room, still kissing me.

I stopped him and drew back, trying to catch my breath. “We’re going the wrong way,” I said.

“Hmm? We’re what?” He drew my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked gently.

“Oh, god.”

He smiled against me and did something with his tongue that sent a rush of sensation from my scalp to the soles of my feet. Cupping my jaw with both hands, he held me firmly as he did it again, then again, and again. My hips started a slow, involuntary rock into his.

I caught his wrists and gasped into his mouth, “Bedroom! Bedroom’s up the stairs.”

“Right.” He pulled away and stared down at me. His eyes were wide and dark, cheeks flushed, lips damp and swollen. He swallowed hard.

“I mean…” I trailed off, getting distracted as I gripped his lovely butt and squeezed. “Uh. It’s not as if there’s a law saying we have to do it in a bed.”

Then again, I didn’t really want to have sex on my sitting room floor.

Getting overcome with passion and grinding around on a carpet wasn’t as much fun as it might sound, especially when you’re the one on the bottom being rhythmically and enthusiastically shoved back and forth over fibres not designed to be kind to delicate areas.

Jake’s hands were restless on my sides. He curved them around my ribs and tugged me into him, kissing my neck and adding a hair-raising scrape of teeth.

I moaned in delight. Then, “Wait!”

He stopped and pressed his forehead into my shoulder—having to hunch down to do it—panting quietly. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am spectacular. This is great. More of this.”

He lifted my chin and went for my mouth again.

I hummed into the kiss, making a noise of complaint when he stopped it. “What…?” I said, chasing after him.

“You wanted to wait.”

“No. Well, just for a moment. I wanted to say let’s go upstairs. I want you in a bed.”

He shifted, putting a hand between us to adjust himself. My stomach muscles jumped at the graze of his knuckles against my dick. “Don’t know if I can walk,” he said. “You’ve got me so hard I might hurt myself.”

“I can fix that.” Keeping my eyes on his, I leaned back and popped the button of his dark indigo date jeans. I slowly dragged the tab of his zipper down an inch.

His breath hitched and his hips bumped into mine.

“How’s that?” I said. “Do you think you can walk now?”

His lids lowered. “No.”

“Need a bit more room?”

“Yeah.”

I unzipped another inch and slid my hand into his jeans. I measured the length of his erection with my palm and my gaze bounced up to his, eyes wide.

He grinned.

No wonder he had concerns about walking without doing damage. There was a lot crammed in here. I pushed the heel of my palm against him teasingly and he groaned, flexing into me.

“Ben.”

I unzipped him the rest of the way and spread the fly wide open, admiring the view. “Can you walk now?”

“Mhm. Maybe.”

Only one way to find out. I squirmed out of his arms and strode for the door, looking over my shoulder.

He came after me.

I sped up, and put some attitude into it.

Fine, I strutted.

He caught me at the bottom of the stairs, turned me in his arms for a deep, fierce kiss, then turned me back around and shoved me ahead of him.

We made it up the stairs and stumbled into the bedroom wrapped around each other. Jake backed me towards the bed, and as soon as my legs hit the mattress, he pushed me down.

He kneed my legs apart and loomed over me, taking a long, simmering look.

I stretched out, doing my best to look seductively inviting, then ruined it by scrambling backwards and rolling off the other side of the bed.

Before he even had a chance to question what I was doing, I’d whisked the curtains shut, snapped the bedside lamp on, and thrown myself back onto the mattress. A pillow bounced and toppled to the floor.

I stretched out again, this time in the middle of the bed.

Jake smiled. “You can move pretty fast for a forty-year-old,” he said.

I reached behind me, snagged another pillow, and hurled it at him.

He caught it and tossed it back. His smiled drained away. “Ben?” he said, his voice rough.

“Yeah?” My voice, in contrast, was ridiculously breathy.

“Get naked for me.”

No problem.

I unbuttoned my cuffs and moved on to the rest of the buttons down the front of my shirt, pausing when Jake tutted.

“Slower,” he said. “I want to savour this moment.”

My cheeks heated but I did as he said and slowed down, hoping that he couldn’t see the fine tremble in my hands. “Why don’t you get over here and show me exactly how you like it,” I suggested.

Instead of replying, he wrapped his big hands around my knees and gave me a firm tug down the bed. The duvet bunched beneath me as he dragged me right to the edge and arranged my legs either side of his. I expected him to help out with the buttons but he just stared down at me, still gripping my knees.

I stared back for a frozen moment, then got to work. When I tried to sit up, he shook his head and pressed me flat. He watched intently, his gaze moving between my face and my busy fingers.

I didn’t know quite what wonders he expected to be unveiled here, but I really hoped that he was in a froth of impatience to encounter a plain white t-shirt and a fairly average man-chest, because that’s all I was packing.

He set a hand at the side of my neck and feathered his fingers gently up and down, drifting between my collarbone and my jaw. I was wound so tight with anticipation that my whole body jerked at his touch and I stalled.

“Keep going,” he said roughly.

I made quick work of the rest of the buttons and dropped my hands to my sides, fisting the rumpled duvet.

Jake stroked the panels of my shirt aside. He ran a palm over my chest, dragging it down my stomach to my waistband. He traced his fingers along the edge, before sliding his hand up and under the hem of my t-shirt.

The moment he hit bare skin, I moaned and my body curled in on itself. Just from that light touch.

He flattened his hand and pushed upward firmly, shoving the t-shirt up to my armpits. He stopped, leaving it there. I flexed helplessly beneath his focused attention.

“Trousers, now,” he said.

I didn’t waste any time popping the button and unzipping the fly. I braced my toes on the floor and arched my hips up, squirming my trousers and boxers down as far as they would go with Jake still standing between my thighs.

He took over, grabbing hold of the loose fabric and hauling it the rest of the way. At least, he tried—he could only get so far before he was thwarted by the shoes we’d both forgotten I was still wearing.

With a strained huff of laughter, he dropped to a crouch and removed my shoes one at a time. He set them onto the bedroom floor beside him and completed my de-trousering, setting trousers and boxers on top of my shoes in a haphazard pile.

I leaned up on my elbows and gazed down the length of my half-naked body, my eyes widening as I absorbed the sight of him right there, pinning my legs open with his broad shoulders, face a scant few inches from my excited dick.

My breathing picked up, loud and obvious.

He smiled but he didn’t look all that amused. It was far too dark and fierce for amusement. He leaned forwards and dropped a teasing kiss to the tip of my dick.

“Oh,” I said, and my hips bucked up.

Flattening a hand on my stomach and pressing me down, he straightened. “Shirt and t-shirt,” he said.

“Right.” I scrambled up to sitting and yanked it all off.

My clothes comprehensively disposed of, he pushed closer between my legs and reached down to cup my face. He rubbed his thumbs gently over my cheekbones as I held his wrists.

Slowly, he bent down, bringing our mouths together, and he kissed me.

It started off light.

It escalated quickly.

Within seconds, he’d wrangled me up the mattress towards the pillows and had stretched out over me. I had his shirt untucked and bunched up to his arms, he’d kicked his shoes off, and my hands were stuffed down the back of his jeans, holding a double handful of firm butt cheeks in tight, silky black boxer briefs.

“Ben,” he said, breaking away. His hips pushed into mine when I squeezed my insane handful, hard. “Ben, let me get my jeans off.”

“Yes,” I said, and yanked at his boxers. “And these.” I wanted his bare skin beneath my hands.

“Yeah.” He laughed roughly. “You have to let go,” he said. “Just for a minute.”

“Sorry, but I don’t know if I can.”

He rose up to his knees above me, reached behind him, and grasped my wrists. He gave a gentle pull.

“Nope,” I said, digging my fingers in. “It’s impossible. Can’t do it. Feels too good.”

He stripped his shirt off, his undershirt followed, and he moved to straddle me with his jeans at mid-thigh and his spectacular bubble butt in my hands. The front of his boxer briefs was damp.

I licked my lips.

“Ben,” he said hoarsely.

“Look, I can’t help it if this is the most amazing arse I’ve ever felt in my life. Why is it so amazing, anyway?” I kneaded the firm flesh, testing its smooth resilience. “How many hours of squats per day does this take?”

“Not squats. Skating. It’s the best workout in the world for glutes. And thighs.” He moved over me restlessly. “Why don’t you check out my thighs?”

Greatidea.

I slid my hands down to the backs of his legs, and around to palm his quads. They were hard and tense beneath my questing touch. It was tough to really appreciate it, though, as Jake seized the opportunity to push his boxer briefs down, freeing his cock.

I clutched his thighs, fingers spasming, then urgently tugged him closer.

“Hang on,” he said, working his briefs down. After a short flurry of movement that included leaving me bereft for a moment, he managed to get them and his jeans all the way off, and get back on me.

I sighed with relief at the feel of his big, naked body.

“Yeah,” he said, getting comfortable, notching his hips between my thighs, his pelvis snug to mine. “Better.”

I went back to holding his arse as soon as it was in reach, stroking it, revelling in the dense, taut muscle under hot, silky skin.

He framed my head with his forearms and ducked down for a kiss. I opened to him eagerly. We kissed as if the world was ending, or so it felt. I couldn’t stop touching him, running my hands down his back, holding his ribs, his thighs, his arse.

He flexed into me, sliding our cocks together, controlling the kiss. I hadn’t exactly been chill about any of this in the first place, but within minutes I was a writhing, panting mess beneath him.

Then he stroked my whole body with his in the sort of body roll that I’d only ever seen the confident, hot boys do on a club dance floor, and I almost lost it.

“Ahhhh,” I said, my head digging back into the pillow and my spine arching.

He backed off, gasping out, “What do you want, Ben? Do you want to keep going like this, or?—”

“More,” I said. “I want more.”

I wanted everything.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, stay right there and I’ll go and get?—”

“Don’t you dare go anywhere. Here.” I shoved a hand under the pillow I was half-lying on and dug around. I’d stashed a condom and lubricant there before leaving, with the intention of coming across as all cool and suave when the time came.

Unfortunately, my stash must have been under the other pillow, the one I’d knocked to the floor earlier, and even though I swept my hand over the mattress where it should be, I came up empty. “Shit,” I said. “Hang on a minute.”

I squirmed about beneath him until he got the message and helpfully lifted up. Not far, though.

I turned onto my front, elbowed my way up to the top of the bed, and peered around. Had it fallen…? I lunged across the mattress to look over the side of the bed, then under it. Nope.

Perhaps it had got wedged between the mattress and the headboard? I pushed onto my knees and elbows and wriggled a hand into the narrow gap. My fingers closed around the packet and the lubricant. “Aha!” I said in triumph.

“Got it?” Jake said.

“Yes, I—oh.”

He dragged me backwards and lay down on top of me again. I turned my head to the side, moaning when he kissed the back of my neck and scraped his teeth over the top of my spine.

I arched up, pushing my arse into his pelvis. His cock was hot and hard against me, and he rolled his hips in response. His arms were tucked close into my sides.

He was shaking.

I twisted an arm up and behind me, cupping his neck and drawing him down to kiss me. The angle was awkward and it was messy, but our mouths brushed tenderly together.

“God, Ben,” he said. “You feel so good.” He pushed a hand between us and gripped my arse.

“Yes,” I said. “Yeah, like this.”

“Yeah? On your belly?”

“Mm.” I arched against him again.

“Okay. Okay.” He kissed me then lifted away and eased the condom and tube of lubricant out of my tight fingers. Foil crinkled quietly, followed by the soft click of the lubricant.

I sucked in a breath when he touched me, going straight between my cheeks. “Hurry,” I said, shuffling my thighs apart as best I could while being pinned beneath him.

His fingers were knowing and firm, and he didn’t waste time. “You tell me if it hurts, or?—”

“Of course, yes. I will. I’m good. I won’t need much.”

“No?” he said with interest, slowing down the stroke of the finger he had inside me already. He added another and I hummed in pleasure.

“No, I…may have been, uh. Working up to it. To this. You. For a while, I—uhn.” I choked. “Yes! There! Right there!”

He laughed and repeated the slow drag inside me. “Right here?”

“No! Left a bit! Left a bit!”

“Uh-huh.” He adjusted, and his next lazy stroke hit the spot unerringly with a firm rub, telling me that he’d been avoiding it on purpose.

I growled and pushed up to my elbows.

He pushed me back down with a heavy hand between my shoulder blades. “Tell me more about this ‘working up to it’ business. It sounds interesting. Sounds like the sort of thing I’d like to hear about.”

My thighs widened reflexively and I pushed into my knees, rippling up into his strokes. The hand between my shoulders slid down to play at the small of my back. The weight of it made me want to push up more, to arch even more. I didn’t fight the urge, and Jake’s breath caught at my shameless display.

I buried my face in the duvet, working my arse up and down into his hands, and said, “I may have embarked upon a stretching routine. Possibly involving some toys. Possibly.”

I was being coy. It definitely involved some toys.

I had quite the selection, since toys and my imagination had constituted the bulk of my sex life for the last few years.

“You certainly seem…flexible.” His voice roughened as he added another finger.

“Oh, I am,” I said. Moaned, practically. Wow. Listen to me and my sultry voice. “Where it counts, anyway.”

My face burned. I couldn’t believe I was boasting about the flexibility of my butthole.

He leaned down and said in my ear, “Have you been preparing yourself for me, Ben? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yes.” I pushed up demandingly.

“All right, then.” He settled over me, taking his time getting comfortable, arranging himself.

“Jake.”

He adjusted his hard cock, wedging it between my cheeks and gliding between them for a few long, sweet strokes. I fisted the duvet, moving with him.

His breath shattered over the back of my neck. He adjusted again and guided himself achingly slowly inside. I made an impatient noise and tried to shove back but he had me at his mercy and refused to be hurried. It went on and on until, finally, he bottomed out.

We both held still, shaking. When Jake’s hands came over mine, I spread my fingers wide. He slotted his between them, as if we’d done this a thousand times already.

I said his name again. This time it was a beseeching whisper.

“Yeah.” He drew his hips back and surged forwards. I felt the slide of him, deep inside.

He did it again, then again, then again.

The room filled with our gasps and moans—mostly mine—and the sound of Jake’s hips smacking against my arse as he ramped up the intensity of his thrusts. He had some serious power in those skating-sculpted thighs of his. It felt like I was being spanked. He pushed up onto his forearms and sped up, then lifted up and away.

Air rushed cold over my back without his body laid over mine, and I was about to complain when his big hands closed around my hips and he hauled me back onto his cock, draping me over his lap with my thighs as wide as they’d go.

This was a new position for me and, I thought, very possibly a new favourite.

I heaved up onto an elbow, twisting around to get a look at him. It was awkward—my neck wasn’t as flexible as other body parts, sadly—but I saw enough.

He was sitting back on his heels, staring down at me, moving his hips with tight, sinuous rolls that did incredible things to the flexing muscles in his hard abdomen.

His face was flushed, his dark-blue eyes were narrowed and intense, and his gaze flicked up to lock with mine. Having caught me watching, he put a bit of swagger into the next few thrusts and I choked.

Jake’s lips curled up at one side. “You like that?” he said.

“Do it again,” I said. “Harder.”

He tightened his fingers around my hips, thrust hard, and at the same time he dragged me onto him, bouncing me on his dick.

“Oh my god,” I said, and whimpered into the duvet.

After that, things devolved into a fast and frantic tempo. My ears were ringing and my vision—when I managed to blink my eyes open—wavered at the relentless pace.

Jake. Just. Didn’t. Stop.

It got to the point where my gasps and moans were stitched together into an almost continuous wail when he suddenly pulled out and flipped me over.

Stunned, I lay there on my back, panting up at him, eyes stinging with salt. He collapsed on top of me, holding my jaw as he kissed me.

“Ben,” he said. “This is…I want you so much. I just…holy shit, I want you so much.”

I curled my arms around him and held him tight. “Me too,” I said when he gave me the chance to speak between harsh, biting kisses. “Me too.”

He hitched his hips up, reached between us, and guided himself back inside. “Can I…? Is it okay like this? I want?—”

I hissed with pleasure at the feel of him, hooking a leg around his thigh and doing my best to pull him closer.

“—I want to see you,” he was saying. “Want to watch you.” He leaned back, eyes intent on my face as he thrust into me and held himself deep, grinding his hips in tiny circles.

My neck arched and I gasped up at the ceiling.

“Can I?” he said, his voice rough. “Can I have you like this?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

He groaned and ducked his head to catch my mouth with his, licking deep, owning me completely.

I brought my other leg up, gripping his sides with my thighs, and goaded him on.

It didn’t take long after that. A few more rapid thrusts, and he was shaking hard against me.

I held him, cupping his buttocks and encouraging him, pulling him rhythmically into me as he came. He slowed his frantic pace to a gentle glide, his harsh pants softening.

My breathing didn’t soften at all. I was still gasping desperately.

Jake unhooked my legs and got a hand on my dick while he was still inside me. He gazed down into my face as he stroked me, working me fast and hard. I wailed, body seizing up as the climax that had been crashing around in my pelvis drew down tight and detonated.

When I blinked the sweat out of my eyes, Jake had pulled me into his arms and turned us onto our sides. At some point while I was still reeling, he’d withdrawn from my body and dealt with the condom. I felt him now, spent and soft against me. He stroked a warm hand up and down my waist, drifting down to my thigh and back up to my ribs. Up and down. Up and down.

I blinked at him, completely without words.

I’d suspected that having sex with Jake would be something special, and yet I still felt blindsided by it.

He smiled and drew my leg up and over his hip, tucking us as close together as it was possible to get.

He leaned in and kissed me.

It was sweet, so sweet, and soft. He whispered my name. I clutched him tight and he whispered it again.

It sounded like a promise.