Bergamot and Motor Oil
The catering gig where they almost didn't notice each other
Explicit. Two adults, one bad decision.
The smell of bergamot and motor oil hung on his skin, a familiar scent that made my fingers tighten on the knife. I'd accepted the catering gig without checking the guest list, and now here he was, looming in the doorway with that smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. I could feel the weight of our past bearing down on me, the memories of late-night conversations and lazy Sundays in bed, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the present.
My blade chopped through the parsley with a soft crunch, the green scent mingling with the smells of roasting meat and simmering sauce that filled the kitchen. The murmur of conversation from the other room provided a steady background hum, punctuated by the occasional laugh or clink of glasses. I kept my eyes down, but I could feel his gaze on me, like a warmth on the back of my neck.
Eli's voice was low and smooth, a gentle rumble that vibrated through my chest. "Jordan." He said my name like it was a question, like he wasn't quite sure I was really standing there. I looked up, my eyes meeting his. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.
He shrugged, his shoulders rolling under his worn denim shirt. "Last-minute invite. I couldn't resist the chance to cook for a crowd." I raised an eyebrow, trying to appear nonchalant despite the flutter in my chest. "You're a glutton for punishment."
He chuckled, the sound low and rough, and stepped closer. "Maybe I just like a challenge." His eyes sparkled with mischief, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sight. I looked away, trying to compose myself.
"So, what are you making?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Eli's grin was a thin, sharp thing, his eyes glinting with amusement. "My famous paella. Want to be my sous chef?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "You think I'm qualified for the job?"
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I think you're overqualified. But I'll take what I can get." His breath was warm on my ear, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I looked away, trying to shake off the feeling.
"I'll stick to my own station, thanks. I don't want to cramp your style." Eli chuckled, the sound low and rough, and stepped closer. "You never cramped my style, Jordan. You were always the best part of my day." His voice was low and smooth, a gentle rumble that vibrated through my chest.
I looked up, my eyes meeting his. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. Then Eli looked away, clearing his throat. "Anyway, I should get back to work. Nice running into you, Jordan."
I watched him go, feeling a pang of disappointment. But as I turned back to my station, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the last I'd seen of Eli tonight.
I attacked the butter and sugar with the whisks, my hands moving in practiced arcs. Across from me, Eli filleted a salmon with the same surety he'd once brought to my skin. I focused on the scrape of metal against the marble counter, the soft clink of the whisks, but my mind kept slipping to the way his hands moved, the way they'd once moved over me.
"So, Jordan, how's the pastry game treating you?" Eli asked, his voice low and even.
I measured out flour, the soft whoosh of it hitting the counter the only sound for a moment. "It's treating me. I'm still waiting tables, but I've got a few catering gigs." I glanced up, meeting his eyes. "That's about it."
Eli's gaze flicked up, interest sparking in his eyes. "That's great. I'm sure your baked goods are still..." He paused, a small smile playing on his lips. "Popular."
A flush climbed my neck. "You have no idea."
He chuckled, the sound low and rough. My heart skipped a beat. This was how it used to be between us, this easy back-and-forth.
We worked in silence for a while, the only sounds the clinking of dishes and the occasional murmur from the guests. I felt his eyes on me, tracing the curve of my neck, the swell of my breasts under my apron. My skin prickled with awareness.
"So, what's the plan here tonight?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Eli's gaze flicked up, meeting mine. For a moment, we just looked at each other. Then he smiled, slow and seductive. "I think the plan is to get through the night without too much drama. And maybe, just maybe, sneak in a few moments of pleasure."
My pulse spiked at the implication. "Sounds like a solid plan to me."
As we worked, the banter flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional brush of our hands. It was like no time had passed at all.
But I knew better. Time had passed, and things had changed. We weren't the same people we used to be.
Still, as the night wore on and the guests began to arrive, I couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe we could recapture some of that old magic. Maybe we could find our way back to each other, at least for one night.
I glanced over at Eli, who was expertly plating a dish. Our eyes met, and for a moment, we just looked at each other.
Then Eli smiled, slow and seductive. "You know, Jordan, I think this is going to be a very interesting night."
Eli's gaze lingered on mine, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips curved into a slow smile. I knew that look. The kitchen was a whirlwind of sizzling meat and clinking glasses, but I only saw him.
As we worked side by side, our bodies touched, and I felt a spark. I tried to ignore it, telling myself we couldn't afford distractions. But the tension grew, every glance making my heart stutter.
I excused myself, seeking a moment to collect my thoughts. The house was a maze, and I wandered until I found a cozy study with a fireplace and a comfortable armchair. I sank in, letting out a sigh as I closed my eyes.
The distant sounds of the party were muffled, and I was starting to relax when I heard the door open. Eli stood in the doorway, a look of concern on his face. "Hey, you okay? You've been gone a while."
I nodded, feeling a little silly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a break." Eli nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "I know the feeling," he said, his voice low.
He stepped into the room, closing the door. The party sounds faded, and Eli walked towards me, his eyes locked on mine. I saw the desire in them, the hunger. My heart skipped a beat.
He stopped in front of me, his hands on the arms of the chair. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. "Jordan," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "I've missed you."
His lips brushed against mine, a gentle kiss that sparked a fire. I reached up, my hands tangling in his hair as I deepened the kiss. Eli groaned, his tongue tangling with mine.
We broke apart, gasping for air. Eli's eyes were wild, his pupils dilated. "I want you," he said, his hands ripping at my clothes. "I want to taste you, touch you, fuck you."
I nodded, my voice caught. Eli's hands were rough, exposing my skin. He kissed me, his lips tracing a path down my neck, chest, stomach. He reached my pussy, his tongue tracing my slit. I gasped, my hips arching.
Eli lapped at me, his tongue probing my entrance. I was wet, my juices dripping down my thighs. He licked me relentlessly until I was on the edge.
Then he stopped, pulling back. "Turn over," he said, his voice rough. I turned onto my stomach, my ass in the air. Eli's hands were on me, his fingers probing my entrance.
He pushed inside me, his cock stretching me. He fucked me hard, his hips pounding against mine. I felt myself building again.
Eli pulled out, flipping me onto my back. "I want to see your face when you come," he said, his cock pressing against my entrance. I nodded, my heart racing.
Eli pushed inside me, his cock stretching me. He fucked me hard, his hips pounding against mine. I felt myself building, my orgasm rising.
And then, in a rush of pleasure, I came. I felt myself clench around Eli's cock, my muscles rippling. Eli groaned, his hips jerking as he came, his fluids spilling inside me.
Eli pulled out, his cock leaving my body with a soft wet sound. He flipped me onto my back, his eyes locked on mine. "I want to see your face when you come," he said, his voice rough.
I nodded. Eli positioned himself between my legs, his cock pressing against my entrance. He pushed inside me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt him stretch me wide.
As he fucked me, his hips pounded against mine. I felt myself building. Eli's eyes were locked on mine, his face twisted in concentration.
His cock slid in and out of me, the friction building my pleasure. I could feel my muscles rippling around him. Eli groaned, his hips jerking as he fucked me harder.
My orgasm built until finally I came, my muscles clenching around Eli's cock. I felt a rush of pleasure, my body shuddering. Eli groaned, his hips jerking as he came too.
As we came, Eli's eyes never left mine. I could see the pleasure in them. His cock pulsed inside me. I felt his fluids spill out of my body, wetting my thighs.
Eli collapsed onto me, his chest heaving. His cock was still inside me, softening slowly. I could feel his heart pounding against mine.
We lay there, catching our breath. Then Eli pulled out of me, his cock leaving my body with a soft sound. He rolled onto his side, pulling me into his arms.
I snuggled into him. We lay there in silence. I could feel Eli's cock against my thigh.
As we caught our breath, I thought about our conflicting desires. Eli wanted to break into the fine dining scene. I wanted to open a bakery.
But as we lay there, our bodies still warm from sex, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe we could find a way to make our desires work together.
As I drifted off to sleep, Eli's arms wrapped tightly around me, I felt a sense of possibility. Maybe we could make this work.
But as I fell asleep, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be easy. I pushed the thought away, focusing on the warmth of Eli's body against mine.
As I drifted off to sleep, I knew I would have to face my fears. It wouldn't be easy, but I was willing to try. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of hope.
I woke up to Eli's phone buzzing on the nightstand, the screen casting a blue glow on his face. He reached over to silence it, his eyes flickering open as he settled back into the pillow. The air conditioning hummed in the background, a distant murmur of conversation from the party winding down.
Eli swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet pooling around his waist. "I should probably get back out there," he said, his voice rough from sleep. I nodded, watching as he stood up and began to dress. His movements were loose, relaxed, and I felt a catch in my chest.
As he finished dressing, Eli sat down beside me on the bed. "Hey," he said, his eyes searching mine. "You okay?" I nodded, feeling a little raw. Eli reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my skin.
"I'm okay," I said, my voice low. "I just...I don't know what's going to happen now." Eli's expression was soft, understanding.
"I know," he said. "Me neither. But I want to be with you, Jordan. I want to try to make this work." My heart swelled at his words, a sense of hope I hadn't felt in a long time.
As we sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, I knew I had to face my fears, to find a way to make my desires work with Eli's. It wouldn't be easy, but I was willing to try. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of possibility.
Eli stood up, pulling me to my feet. "Come on," he said, his voice low. "Let's go face the music." I nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation. As we made our way back downstairs, the sounds of the party grew louder.
In the kitchen, the smell of food and perfume hit me, the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. Eli's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine as we made our way through the crowd. I felt a sense of comfort in his touch.
But as we reached the center of the room, I caught sight of Eli's business partner, a look of expectation on his face. I felt a pang of unease, knowing Eli's desires were not just about me, but about his career, his dreams. And my desires, my fears, were not just about him, but about myself, my ambitions.
As the night wore on, the party slowly winding down, I couldn't shake the feeling that our paths would eventually diverge again. That our desires, our dreams, would take us in different directions. But for now, in this moment, I was willing to try.
As the last of the guests departed and the kitchen grew quiet, Eli turned to me, his eyes searching mine. "Hey," he said, his voice low. "You okay?" I nodded, feeling a sense of vulnerability. Eli's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine.
"Yeah," I said, my voice low. "I'm okay." Eli's expression was soft, his eyes filled with empathy.
"Good," he said. "Because I'm not ready to let you go yet." I smiled, feeling a sense of hope, of possibility. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe we could find a way to be together, to pursue our desires and still have each other.
As the night wore on, the silence between us growing comfortable, I knew I had to face my fears, to find a way to make my desires work with Eli's. It wouldn't be easy, but I was willing to try. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of hope.
I looked into Eli's eyes, feeling a sense of possibility. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe we could find a way to be together, to pursue our desires and still have each other. And as I looked at him, I knew I was willing to try, to take that chance, to see where our desires would take us.