Page 15

Chapter 15

Anders

I ’m running around my apartment like a headless chicken, ensuring everything’s immaculate. I even turn on the Christmas fairy lights I’ve been too lazy to take down and light one of those cheap, smelly candles that cause headaches.

Jahmar Walker is coming to my house.

He’s going to sit on my lumpy sofa, drink my shitty wine and eat my sad attempt at jerk chicken. I stole the recipe from Femi, although she was pretty vague about it. Her instructions consisted of ‘a little bit of this and a little bit of that.’ She badgered me for most of our last shift about who I was cooking Caribbean food for, and I almost confessed, but things between me and Jahmar are rocky.

Even though he’s opened up about his secret operation, I still feel like we’re balancing on a tightrope, just waiting to fall off in a tangle of broken limbs. This morally ambiguous web he’s somehow caught me in would have most people running for the hills. If I wrote down the concerns I have about starting a relationship with Jahmar, I’d have a ten-page document. But, do you think that’s gonna stop me? No.

Instead, I’m flapping around my apartment like I’m about to have my first kiss. Why the fuck did I think inviting him here for dinner and to ‘talk’ was a good idea? Every time I’m alone with him, I either end up horny or scared for my life, sometimes both. I hate to admit it, but I’m pretty sure the fear and thrill of all this gets me hard half of the time.

The doorbell rings, making my stomach violently roll like trainers in a tumble dryer. I rush to the door before panicking, turning around and blowing out the stinky fucking candle. Ruffling my slightly damp hair and checking my teeth in the mirror before sucking in a deep breath. This isn’t a big deal. It’s not like this is our first date…or is it?

I swing the door open a little too furiously but manage to school my face to my usual indifference. I should work on that; I can’t keep scowling at him if I want to date him. Not a date.

“Hey, little lion.”

Oh wow, I basically turn into a puddle of goo, and my cheeks ache because I’m already smiling like a fucking fool.

“Hi,” I croak. Clearing my throat to try again. “Hey, you alright?” Much better.

“I am now.” Jahmar raises his hand to my face, stopping just shy of my cheek. I hold my breath, and I swear my heart momentarily stops beating.

“Can I touch your dimple?” he asks with a sinful smirk.

“What? That’s a strange thing to ask.”

“You once told me I should ask first?”

The memory of him prodding my face after I set the camera up springs to mind. Well, at least he listens.

I nod, giving him a sincere smile. If he wants to see my dimple pop, so be it.

Jahmar steps forward, crowding me. One of his large hands lands on my hip, and the other grasps my jaw, turning my face to the side. He ghosts his plush lips over the little divot. Every hair on my body comes to life, and a pathetic whimper escapes me. I figured he was going to poke it again or maybe stroke it, but then the tip of his tongue swirls around my dimple like it’s the end of my fucking cock.

Well, this is new.

I giggle like a small child, and his tongue pulls away. He rests his lips against my face, and I feel them stretch into a wicked smile.

“I think I might have a dimple kink.”

We part slightly, and he releases my face so our eyes connect. Fuck me, he’s handsome. I totally get the whole licking my face because right now, I want to lick every square inch of him until he’s dripping in my saliva. I don’t say this out loud, though. Obviously.

“Is that a thing?” I ask.

“I dunno, but I’d be happy to make it one. I suddenly have the urge to come all over your face again and make it gather in that cute little pit.”

My eyes bug out. I should say that’s gross, but somehow it’s incredibly hot. Maybe I could convince him to fuck my cheek. Oh shit, now look who has a dimple kink.

“What you thinking, little lion? Because from what I can see you’ve either got a remote in your pocket or just excited to see me.”

Jahmar’s ridiculousness snaps me out of my horny haze with a chuckle. He thrusts his hips so our cocks brush.

“I made chicken,” I blurt out, needing to change the subject before I come in my pants.

Stepping back to let him in, I finally take in the hot as fuck outfit he has on. I’m so used to seeing Jahmar in his doctor attire; this is a fucking treat. He’s wearing a criminally tight, plain black tee that hugs every muscle divinely. It’s tucked into checkered grey and black chinos teamed with bright white chunky trainers. Around his neck is a long silver necklace with a half-moon pendant. He has a hoop in his ear and several bulky rings on each hand. Damn, he looks way too cool to be hanging around with the likes of me. I’m sporting a Sleep Token t-shirt and a pair of slim-cut faded jeans I’ve had since I was twenty, which isn’t exactly high-end fashion. And to add insult to injury, my apartment is rough around the edges.

While I ogle him, he slips off his trainers, swans in like he owns the place, and plonks himself on the sofa. I swear this man has more confidence in his pinkie finger than I have in my whole body.

His doe brown eyes dart around my humble apartment, making me slightly uneasy. It’s cosier than his place, though. I have lots of knickknacks, scatter cushions on the sofa, photos of my family and friends, and a Persian rug that takes up most of the old wooden floorboards. It feels like a home, even if it isn’t as fancy as Emeralds.

Jahmar leans forward, picks up the dodgy candle, and sniffs it before pulling a face. Rude.

I know it gives me a headache every time I light it, but that’s for me to judge, not him. I barrel over, snatching it from him and inevitably spilling some cooling wax on his snazzy trousers.

“Shit, sorry!”

I drop to my knees and start manically trying to remove the bright purple wax that’s beginning to harden near his crotch.

“It’s all good, just let it dry,” Jahmar says with humour in his voice.

I continue to rub at the spot like a fucking freak. My hands shake, and I feel like my internal body temperature has risen to forty-five degrees

“A little higher,” Jahmar jokes, leaning back with his arms behind his head like a smug fuck.

I sit back on my heels, huffing in defeat. “I’m sorry, I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?”

“Well, that depends on what this is. I was under the impression I was coming over for a nice meal and a potential blowjob, and right now, you’re on your knees, so everything’s going to plan if you ask me.”

I roll my eyes and swat him in the dick.

“Ouch, bad cub,” he teases.

I climb from my knees, making a dramatic ‘ahh’ sound like I’m sixty instead of twenty-eight.

“If you whip them off, I’ll soak them so they’re not ruined.”

“Oh, bet you’d love to have me walking around in nothing but a jockstrap. You spilt the wax on purpose, didn’t you?”

I want to slap that cheeky grin off his face—I also want to kiss him, so that’s what I do. Leaning forward, I grab a fist full of his t-shirt, bend down to his level and drag him into a greedy kiss. Jahmar moans into my mouth as if he’s been starving for me the second our lips lock. I could easily get addicted to that sound.

Wasting no time, he pulls me down the rest of the way until I’m straddling his lap. I push past his moist lips, wrapping my tongue around his and fucking his mouth like it’s my main purpose in life.

Jahmar’s hands slide through my hair before tugging hard and holding onto the thick strands in a death grip. He takes complete control, guiding and moulding my mouth exactly how he wants it. I roll my hips like I would if I were impaled on his cock. I’m a strict top, although I don’t mind a cheeky finger. Despite my preferences, that doesn’t stop me from rocking my hips like I’m on a bucking bronco.

The ridge of his solid length drags against my arse. It doesn’t take much to make this man go from zero to one hundred. He bites on my lip, eliciting a needy moan from me that I’m sure the neighbours can hear through the paper-thin walls. Jahmar releases my tender lower lip and soothes it with a light flick of his tongue before pulling back, hands grasping either side of my neck. My chest rises and falls from the tongue fucking I just received.

He pins me with those chocolate eyes. In the muted light of my apartment, flashes of warm caramel dance in his irises—god, he’s pretty.

“I am so fucking into you, you have no idea,” Jahmar whispers with a genuine smile on his face.

My stomach flutters and my jaw hangs open like a gormless fish.

“I-I think, erm.” Words evade me. I feel the same; of course I fucking do. I’ve pretty much made him my obsession, but he scares the shit out of me. Maybe it’s because of what he does as a side hustle or perhaps it’s because he makes me feel things I never have before.

The stupid pounding organ in my chest wants to let him in, yet I can’t ignore the fact that he genuinely pisses me off sometimes with his foolish banter and silly games. I sense he’s still keeping me at arm’s length. That chirpy disposition he wears so well is an attempt to cover up what’s hiding behind that impenetrable wall. If I had a sledgehammer, I’d turn that wall to dust. If only it were that easy.

The timer on the oven saves my arse. “Dinner’s done!”

I clamber off Jahmar’s lap, almost tripping over a cushion that slipped off the sofa. I’m a hot fucking mess.

“Great, it smells unreal.”

I make myself busy in the kitchen, turning off the timer and getting out plates, as well as internally berating myself for acting like such a fucking weirdo.

“We can eat at the—” my words cut off as I take in the heavenly sight before me.

“Why are you getting undressed?”

“You said you’d soak my trousers, remember?”

“Oh, shit, yes. Pass them here.”

Jahmar chucks them in my direction; with a bit of fumbling, I catch them, making him chuckle. I swear this man likes to see me suffer.

“You can borrow some joggers; they're in the third drawer down,” I say, pointing towards my bedroom.

He nods, walking away in his tight top and a purple jockstrap—send help because I’m fucked.

Part of me thinks even if he were torturing people for fun, I still wouldn’t be able to let him go.