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Chapter One
“Where to?”
Oliver settled into the backseat, barely acknowledging me as his thumbs flew across his phone. “Machiavelli’s.”
I nodded, though I doubt he noticed, and pulled away from the curb. We crawled along through the streets, but our destination wasn’t far. The Italian restaurant was beloved by Midtown’s elite and was one of Oliver’s favorites. I pulled up to the front and a valet opened the backdoor. Oliver stepped out, and the door shut behind him.
The valet came up the passenger window I had already begun to roll down. “The usual?” he asked.
The corner of my mouth turned up. I had been by Machiavelli’s enough times to get to know some of the workers. David always seemed to be around on nights Oliver had a reservation.
Over David’s shoulder, I watched Oliver disappear into the restaurant. It would be at least an hour before he was done with dinner.
“Yeah,” I shifted the car back into drive. “The usual.”
“Thank God you came tonight,” David announced as he opened the passenger door. He had gotten there fast. The smell of fresh garlic and basil filled the front seat, making my mouth water. He set the take-out bag on the dashboard and threw himself at me.
I pulled his body close to mine, feeling his eagerness. He kissed me, and his tongue tasted like cigarettes. My hands trailed down his back until I cupped his ass and squeezed, enjoying the feel of soft flesh that filled my palms. He moaned and pulled back, looking me straight in the eye. “I’m so fucking horny.”
His hands had unzipped my pants and were making short work of my underwear. I was already starting to harden, but apparently not fast enough for him. He gripped my cock with both hands, using light touches as it began to grow. I could feel the blood rushing to my erection, the pressure already starting to build.
He massaged my dick until it was straining toward the roof of the car. “David,” I hissed, wanting more than his hands.
His thighs straddled mine as he pulled down his pants. He had already pulled out condoms from God knows where and slid one over me before pulling the other over himself. I raised an eyebrow. “You’re ready?”
He answered by raising his hips and lowering himself until he found the head of my cock. “I told you. I’m so fucking horny.” He dropped down onto me, and I cursed as I filled him.
David tilted back his head as he sank deeper. “Fuck. This is just what I needed.”
“Happy to help.”
He laughed, but there was a wince to his voice. He was close to taking all of me; he had prepared himself well.
I grabbed his hips. “Did you want me that bad?” I whispered, pressing my lips against his neck.
“You wish.”
I had had enough. I tightened my hold on his hips and pulled him down as I thrust up. A cry escaped through his lips, but I didn’t slow. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
He tightened at my words and I increased my pace until the sound of his moans drowned out the slap of our bodies. He leaned forward, holding on to me. My hips were moving on their own now, and I was close. I reached forward and slid my hands over David’s cock, earning a deeper moan for my efforts.
“Ben,” he whined. “I’m so close.”
“Me too,” I whispered into his ear. It only took a few more seconds for us both to find our release, and he collapsed against me, spent.
We cleaned up the best we could in the car, then David left to go back to work. “Thanks for the meal,” I called as he stepped out of the car.
He winked. “Anytime.”
Once he was gone I tucked into the pasta he had brought. It was delicious - Machiavelli’s didn’t get its reputation for nothing. I devoured the food and tossed the trash in one of the cans by the stairwell.
After that, all I had to do was wait.
David and I had been enjoying each other for a few months now. We only met up when we saw each other at the restaurant, and there was nothing more. That’s how I wanted it, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had others. I had others too.
I hadn’t been in a real relationship since college, and even then it hadn’t lasted. Not that I had the time even if I wanted one. I was at Oliver’s beck and call Monday-Friday, with only Saturdays and Sundays to myself. I had been his driver for years, and it ran in the family. My dad had driven the older Mr. Calloway for most of his life and had no intention of quitting.
I swallowed down what was left in my water bottle and closed my eyes. Soon enough I would get the call to come pick him up, and we would head to the next place. He had a routine on Friday nights, and I wasn’t looking forward to the rest of it.
