Monster mash, p.18
Monster Mash, page 18
“Nothing. I just…” There was a brief pause. “I really do miss you.”
I paused because he sounded surprised. “You’re coming by to see me tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s work. I want to see you outside of that. I just worry there isn’t time. What with the wedding and everything…”
“I know.” I started doing the calculations in my head. Between work, the wedding, and my dancing lessons, there wasn’t very much time left for us at all. “Are you free on Sunday?”
“I’m free right now.”
I chuckled and cracked open another egg. “Sugar…”
“I know, I know. You have to work and so do I. I suppose Sunday will have to do. But I think we can forgo the brunch at Northstar this week. No offense to my wonderful clients, but I don’t want to look at them. I want to look at you.”
I grinned ear to ear, chest warming. “How about I come over and make you breakfast?”
“A mouthgasm and an orgasm? How am I supposed to say no? I expect you no later than nine o’clock sharp, Mr. Reyes.”
I laughed. “I’ll be there.”
“Matteo,” he said, tone suddenly serious. “I…”
I froze, the weight of his tone indicating he was about to say something important. Was it too much to hope for the L-word? “Yes?”
“Well, goodnight, I guess,” he said.
My heart fell slightly. “Goodnight, Sugar. Sleep well.”
We hung up, but I couldn’t shake the disappointment. It seeped into my bones while I fried up my French toast and sliced the strawberries. Maybe I was being foolish, jumping the gun. We’d only spent one day together. It was probably too soon to be planning the wedding, but I knew. Ezra was the one. I knew it like I knew the recipe for white bread. This was meant to be.
I was absolutely, irreversibly, and undeniably in love with Ezra Higgins.
I plated up the French toast to look pretty and brought it into the living room, laying out a freshly laundered blanket before setting up the camera. As nice as the cash was from the videos, I wasn’t going to miss doing them. I just needed to make a little extra. Between the expanded operations at Beefcakes and a few extra videos a week, I hoped to make enough for a good-sized down payment.
And after Ezra says yes, I’ll shut it all down, I thought. He never has to know.
I can’t believe I’m doing this again.
The glow of my laptop screen was the only light in my bedroom. I sat hunched over it, hiding under the blanket like I expected my mother to walk in on me. It was ridiculous. I knew full well no one was going to catch me wanking to BeefyBoy69’s live stream, but that didn’t stop me from feeling at least a little guilty.
I had wanted Matteo to come over, though it was a silly thought. We both had work. Even if he had come over, I was still sore from the day before. Not that I minded. The slight discomfort was a frequent reminder of how amazing the sex had been. Sitting down had made me half hard all day, just remembering it.
By the time I made it back from my meeting with the travel agent arranging accommodations for Chef Inzo’s family coming in from Italy, I was so randy I almost couldn’t contain myself. Talking to Matteo on the phone had only made it worse. He had me so well trained already that my cock jumped up at the mere sound of his chuckle. It was practically Pavlovian.
Now that I’d had Matteo inside me, the minotaur on the screen didn’t seem nearly as impressive, even if his voice was sexy as hell. Tonight’s special was apparently French toast with strawberries and cream. While BeefyBoy69’s cock hovered over the sweet treat, conjuring the aforementioned cream, I had my hand down my pajama pants, working mine and thinking about Matteo. He’d promised to make me breakfast. Maybe I could get him to make me French toast with strawberries and some of his special cream.
“It’s been such a long, hard day,” said BeefyBoy69, working his cock like a pro. “You deserve something special, don’t you? Do you want it?”
“Yes,” I breathed, imagining it was Matteo saying it to me.
He groaned. “Tell me how bad you want it.”
Before I could stop myself, my fingers were flying across the keyboard, answering him.
CastleLuver: I want it so bad.
The minotaur’s fist paused. “Oh, you do, do you? Are you sure? Because it’s going to make a huge mess all over your plate. There’s going to be so much.”
CastleLuver: I like it messy. Make a big mess for me.
CastleLuver has tipped $15.
I’ve sunk to a new low, I thought, but caught myself. Doctor Federi had told me to try to catch negative thoughts and turn them into something positive. How did I put a positive spin on this? I’m supporting a small businessman, aren’t I? What a feckin load of shite. But I’ll take it.
Other tips started pouring in, pushing the daily donation counter higher.
BeefyBoy69 started to speed his pace, so I did the same, leaning back and pushing the laptop away to make sure I didn’t hit it. He made a big splash, but I was barely paying attention. My thoughts had already drifted away from the video to Matteo. Was he in his bedroom doing the same thing, thinking of me? Fuck, I should’ve video called him. We could’ve had kinky phone sex. That would’ve been hot, watching each other come on video.
The thought of getting to watch him on a screen instead of a stranger sent me over the edge. My cock pulsed, spilling my release over my fist while I panted in the dark.
When I was done, the stream was still going, but I shoved the laptop away in disgust. What would Matteo say if he knew? I needed to find a healthier way to deal with my stress, something other than watching literal food porn.
I collapsed against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, thinking again about our phone call. I’d had the strangest urge to say I love you instead of goodbye. Was that true? Did I love Matteo? What did love feel like?
Jesus, I’m a sad fuckin’ edjit, aren’t I? What sort of wedding planner doesn’t know what love is?
I thought of my parents. They were supposed to be my example, but they’d split when I was young, and never had a kind word for each other, even after. Hardly a good example. My clients always seemed like they were in love, except when they hated each other, which was just as likely half the time.
Not Adam and Inzo, though. No, those two were made for each other. You could look at them and see it in their eyes, how gobsmacked they were. My brain didn’t vacate the building every time Matteo came near me like Adam’s did when he was close to Inzo. Though, maybe that was because Matteo wasn’t a soul sucking incubus.
What am I doing? I thought and sat up. I live in the age of the internet. If you don’t know something, you search for it!
I cleaned the cum off my stomach with my shirt and cast it aside before yanking my laptop over. It was late, and I had an early appointment, but I had time for one quick search.
“No offense, but you look like shit,” Gary said when I walked into the office.
I scowled at my tentacled kraken assistant and yanked the sunglasses from my face, which probably only made me look worse. I’d stayed up half the night scouring the internet with searches for things like: what is love? How to know if you’re in love. What does love feel like? For all of humanity’s thousands of years of evolution, we had apparently failed to define that particular four-letter experience, at least in a way that made sense.
“Just give me the rundown,” I said, sinking into my swivel chair.
Gary clicked his pen and lifted his notebook. “Do you want the bad news or the good news first?”
“I could use some good news after the night I had.” I picked up my latte and chugged it.
“We’re booked for the next two years,” Gary said.
I almost choked on my latte. “What? When did this happen?”
Gary shrugged. “Here and there. You told me to handle the scheduling, and not to put anything until after the Amoretti-Northstar gig, so…”
“Two years?” I could scarcely believe it.
Six months ago, Enchanted Moments was facing closure. My extended battle with anxiety had made me flighty to work with, according to some clients. At a wedding last year, I’d had a rather public anxiety attack, which resulted in some bad reviews. Bad reviews killed business.
The only reason I had landed the Amoretti-Northstar gig was because I was the only human wedding planner willing to take on the impossible project. Plan and execute a televised celebrity wedding in less than four months? No one wanted to touch that. The stress of doing it might kill me yet.
But being booked out for two years felt impossible.
“I guess Chef Northstar mentioned us in some televised interview yesterday,” Gary said with a shrug. “When I came in, the online bookings were all claimed. I’ll be busy making calls to touch base with everybody for the next week.”
I tipped my head back and laughed. “Gary, do you know what this means? It means we’re a success!” I set the latte down. “We’ll have to hire more staff! God, where will we put them?” I glanced around the tiny office. I’d rented the space on a shoestring budget. Most of our supplies were still in storage.
Gary just shrugged.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Those were problems for future Ezra. Right now, my focus needed to be on pulling off the Amoretti-Northstar wedding without a hitch, and so many things were already starting to go wrong. I needed to keep a tight grip on things.
“Okay,” I said at length, “what’s the bad news?”
“The spa you booked called. No openings this weekend.”
I groaned.
“But,” Gary said, picking up a paper and holding it out to me, “I called Chef Inzo this morning, who knows Ron Talos who used to cook for Fred Berry.”
“Fred Berry, the movie star?”
“That’s the one,” Gary confirmed with a nod. “Got a few strings pulled and found you and Adam a better place, courtesy of Fred Berry.”
My eyes bulged. “Shut your lyin’ mouth,” I said and yanked the paper away from him. “You got us a spot at Creature Comforts?”
“You’re welcome,” he said, beaming.
“Gary, I could kiss you.”
He snorted. “Pretty sure your boyfriend would get jealous if you did.”
The idea of Matteo getting jealous sent a spike of heat through me, but my phone buzzed before I could get too invested in a fantasy about him giving me a proper claiming. I fished it out of my pocket and frowned at the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” I said and accepted the call. “That impatient to see me, love?”
He chuckled, but there was a lot of noise on the other end. “I am, but that’s not why I’m calling. I know I was supposed to deliver sample cupcakes over to Brimstone this afternoon, but the shop is busy. Would it be awful if I asked you to come pick up the samples for me? I just don’t think I’ll be able to leave my station for long today.”
I sighed. It was inconvenient, but not the end of the world. At least it’d give me an excuse to see him somewhere other than in front of my clients. “Yes, I can swing by around one this afternoon. Would that be okay?”
“That’d be perfect, Sugar.” Something beeped. “Oh, sorry. Gotta go. Don’t work too hard. Love you. Bye.”
He hung up before I could formulate a response. Not that I could have.
He said he loved me.
He loves me.
Matteo loves me!
Gary snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Hello? You okay?”
I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Fine,” I said, standing.
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to hold the fort down here, Gary. I have to go get the cupcake samples and take them to Brimstone.” I pushed my chair in.
Beefcakes was busy when I arrived, with a line going out the door. I could see why Matteo thought he couldn’t get away if his baked goods were flying off the shelves. I muscled my way past the people standing in line and into the shop proper, where every seat at every table was full. There was another young minotaur manning the counter with a smile, but no sign of Matteo.
I waited for the employee—whose nametag said Ben—to finish his transaction and then got his attention. “Is Matteo in the back? I’m the wedding planner.”
Ben glanced at me, then turned to the customer. “I’ll be right with you,” he said and walked over to me, looking me up and down. “So you’re Ezra Higgins, huh?” He jerked his chin toward a set of double doors that went back to the kitchen. “He’s in the back. Mind your step back there.”
“Thank you,” I said and left him to slide into the kitchen.
As soon as I was through the double doors, the smell of freshly baked bread and apple pie hit me, the scent so good my mouth was watering.
Matteo was at one of the tables, an icing bag in his hands, swirling purple icing on a yellow cake. I hadn’t thought it would look good when I envisioned it, but Matteo made it look like he’d been born to make those cupcakes. I stood in the doorway, watching him work. He finished the icing and used tweezers to pick up what looked like a butterfly made out of sugar and carefully placed it on the icing.
“That is one sexy looking cupcake,” I said.
He finally looked up, beaming. “I know, right?” He cleaned his hands on a towel hanging from his apron as he crossed the kitchen. When he reached me, he bent down to give me a quick kiss. “Thanks for coming, Sugar. Sorry about the change of plans.”
“You really are swamped out there. Are you having some kind of sale or something?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Nope. Just word got around, I guess. It happens sometimes. Business always picks up a bit this time of year. Graduations and parties and stuff.”
An oven on the other side of the kitchen beeped and Matteo rushed over to carefully pull a pie with a bubbling red filling out of the oven.
The kitchen door swung open, and Ben stuck his head in. “Is the cherry pie for the Yardin order ready, Matteo?”
Matteo nodded. “Yep. Just got it out. Need to glaze it and let it cool a bit so we don’t get condensation.”
“ETA?” Ben pressed.
“Ten minutes.” Matteo waved him off and sighed. “The cupcakes are almost ready to go. I just need the boxes, which I stupidly left up in my apartment this morning thinking I’d have time to go get them. Sugar, I hate to ask, but would you mind grabbing them? They’re in a box right inside the door and the apartment’s right above us. I’ve got a cake coming out in two minutes or I’d do it.”
I held up a hand. “Say no more. Just direct me to the stairs.”
“Around back,” he said and picked up the tube of icing.
A few minutes later, I trudged up the set of metal stairs wrapping around the side of the building, Matteo’s house key in hand. It felt strangely elating to be trusted to go into his apartment on my own.
Plus, he’d said he loved me earlier. I was still riding the high of hearing that for the first time.
What if he said it by accident? I shook the thought away and slid the key into the lock. That wasn’t the kind of thing anyone said by accident, was it?
Matteo’s apartment was a cozy, lived-in sort of wreck that screamed perpetual bachelor. While I wouldn’t have called the place sloppy, it wasn’t clean either. There was dust on everything, and random things sitting on surfaces that needed to be put away. His sink was empty, but there were dishes waiting in the drying rack, a jacket tossed over the back of a chair rather than hung up.
I huffed at the sight of it. Somehow, none of it surprised me. I bet he doesn’t even make his bed.
I scanned the area near the door and found the box of high-end cupcake display containers. When I bent to pick it up, I bumped into something and knocked it over. I winced at the crash and quickly reached to pick up…
A camera on a tripod?
Well, good thing that didn’t break, I thought and set it back up.
But then something else caught my eye, and I froze. The throw on the sofa looked familiar. And that dark cloth wadded up next to the coffee table… No, it couldn’t be. I walked over and picked up the cloth only to drop it as soon as I saw some rather suspicious looking white stains. A strawberry tumbled out and rolled across the floor and I suddenly felt sick.
It can’t be him.
I turned, the room spinning, and scanned the walls, the carpet, the camera, the stained throw, the strawberry… What other explanation was there? It had to be true.
Matteo was BeefyBoy69.
My minotaur boyfriend was a goddamn amateur porn star.
I stumbled out of the apartment, gulping down the smoggy air outside like I was suffocating, my chest tight. My palms were sweaty, my stomach churning, heart pounding… All classic signs of an impending anxiety attack.
Breathe, Ezra.
I went to the edge of the landing and leaned over it, afraid I was about to throw up.
I need to do something. I need to go somewhere to think.
I need to fucking breathe! Why can’t I breathe?
Because Matteo said he loved me. Because he was with me, and then he was on my screen. All those people. There were other people in the chat. Other people watching Matteo…
I couldn’t finish the thought. I was drowning in thoughts coming at me with the force of a steam engine, forcing their way into my head faster than I could block them out.
It’s over. He’s going to leave me. He’s gotten tired of me already and he’s leaving me.
I sank to my knees and doubled over. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but not because of the anxiety spiral I was stuck in. I was in pain, real physical pain, an ache in my chest so deep, I thought I might die.
An icy chill ran through me. What if I die here? What if I’m having a heart attack?
Hooves came up the metal staircase and Matteo paused on the steps. “Ezra? Oh my god, Ezra!” Matteo rushed forward and took my clammy hand in his, yanking out his cell phone at the same time. He hit a few buttons and lifted the phone to his ear, squeezing my hand. “Stay with me, Sugar. Everything’s going to be okay. Yes, hello? I need an ambulance.”
