Speedy Rewards

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Ezra

ESDRAS MANUEL Covington, aka Ezra, smiled as he slid behind the wheel of his 1998 Pontiac Grand Prix. Of course, he’d heard from the other employees at Speedy Mart that Phil was gay, so he wasn’t exactly shocked. It just surprised him a guy like that customer would come onto him in that manner.

Ezra wasn’t exactly immersed in the Latino culture. He’d learned Spanish from his mother when he was very young, but his family mainly spoke English. His mom reverted to her native language when she got excited or pissed, or when she was cooking. And sometimes he caught her watching telenovas on the Spanish-language cable channel.

He knew enough words to understand the Latino customers who came into the store, and he was certain he’d heard Humberto—or whatever the dude’s name was—ask Phil for a b*****b. Dang, what the hell was it about Phil that attracted a stud like that? Humberto was f*****g scorching hot. Tall, with broad shoulders, slim waist and tight abs, and gorgeous, chocolaty eyes. Mmm.

He should’ve snatched up that business card himself, or at least copied down the number. Ezra was certainly closer in age to Humberto than an old guy like Phil. He must be, like, close to forty or something. Not that age mattered all that much. He liked Phil enough, but even though he was gay, he just didn’t seem... well, s****l.

Phil was all business, focused on that store. He seemed like a nice guy, and he obviously cared about his employees. To be honest, he was about the most decent boss Ezra had ever had. And he worked hard. Seemed like Phil was always working. The thing Ezra liked most about him, though, was that he noticed things. He took the time to check out the store every morning and complimented Ezra on a job well done. That made him proud, made him want to strive to do even better.

“b***h, you better start,” he said in his most sincerely threatening voice as he slid the key into the ignition. As he turned the key, the engine chugged to life, sluggishly at first, until he depressed the gas pedal, revving the motor.

Wham!

Ezra about jumped out of his skin. His head snapped toward the passenger window of the car where two palms pressed against the window. The smiling face of a familiar customer beamed between the outstretched hands.

He powered down the window. “Jesus Christ, Jeremy! You scared the f**k outta me.”

The twenty-something he-man grinned mischievously, the corners of his mouth curled upward as his lips peeled back to reveal a row of gleaming white teeth. “Yo motherfucka. Wassup?” With his forearms resting against the ledge, he leaned in. “You off work, man?”

“Yeah, I just got out.”

“I got something,” Jeremy said, lowering his voice. “Special f*****g delivery.”

Ezra straightened his posture just a bit and raised his eyebrows. “Dude, that was fast.” He jerked his head slightly, motioning for Jeremy to get in the passenger seat.

Jeremy stood about six foot three inches with broad shoulders and the build of a bouncer. Actually, he did work as a bouncer on the weekends at some nearby club. Of course, that wasn’t his main gig. He also worked security at the Fashion Warehouse, a women’s clothing outlet in one of the nearby strip malls. He definitely put the “body” in “bodyguard”, with his rippling, muscular pecs and abs, and bulging biceps.

“Gonna pull around back,” Ezra said as Jeremy adjusted the seat, sliding it back to accommodate his long legs. “Dude, I didn’t expect you to deliver so quick.” He shifted into gear and backed out of his parking space then pulled around to the rear of the building.

“I told ya, man. I’m hooked up.” He slid his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a baggie.

Ezra parked where he could clearly see if any other vehicles were approaching, but made sure he was not in plain sight of the Speedy Mart patrons. “I... uh....” He turned to face his friend. “Man, I don’t get paid till tomorrow. I had the cash, but....”

Jeremy’s smile never faded, and with a shrug he tossed the bag of weed into Ezra’s lap. “I know you’re good for it, man. You won’t be playin’ me.”

“Dude, this is like... man, you don’t gotta trust me.”

“Oh, I don’t trust nobody.” He reached into the inner chest pocket of his jacket and removed a pack of Marlboro Reds, flicked one out, and seized it with his lips. He fired it up with a Bic then released a stream of smoke out the open window. “Never said I trusted you. I said I know you’re good for it.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

Again, he shrugged. “That’s what friends are for, right? You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“Right.” Ezra nodded then stared down at the dope. “This ain’t no eighth,” he said.

“Quarter,” Jeremy said. “Consider it a blue-light special. Since you’re a first-time customer, ya know.”

Ezra grinned. “Really? So, it’s like, same price?”

“Pretty much.” He turned in his seat, not just tilting his head, but shifting his entire upper body, and placed his fingertips against Ezra’s cheek. “Of course, it’d be cool if you—ya know—expressed your gratitude.” He patted, then gently slapped, the cheek a couple times, staring into Ezra’s eyes.

Ezra’s heartbeat quickened as his gaze locked onto Jeremy’s. Though he wanted to speak, to reply in the affirmative, he suddenly couldn’t find his voice. So he simply nodded.

Jeremy slid back, reaching down to locate the control to recline the seat. Ezra stared at his long legs, now spread, and the sight triggered a ripple of fluttering in his own lower abdomen. A familiar tingling, undoubtedly operant conditioning. Jeremy didn’t have to be more specific or cajole him in any way. Ezra already knew. He sensed what Jeremy was after. He could feel it in his gut.

He slid a slightly trembling hand onto Jeremy’s thigh.

Jeremy’s laugh alone could have seduced Ezra, low and sultry. Evil? Well, at least tempting. He took a long drag from his cigarette and then flicked it out the window before settling back in the seat and unbuttoning his fly.

It felt like a dream or a movie, certainly not real. Ezra had chatted with Jeremy numerous times in the store. They’d established a rapport, which in turn had facilitated the transaction that just transpired. Though Ezra at times allowed himself to get overly flirty, he’d never deliberately come onto Jeremy. To Ezra’s knowledge, he’d offered Jeremy no clue of his orientation.

“I knew a joint wasn’t the only thing you liked to smoke,” Jeremy teased.

Ezra slid his hand farther up Jeremy’s inner thigh. “No. I like a nice fat blunt occasionally.”

Another bout of rumbly laughter escaped Jeremy’s throat as he looked into Ezra’s eyes. “I definitely got a fat one for ya, boy. You have such soft, pouty lips.” He extended his arm, pressing against Ezra’s mouth with his index finger. Ezra parted his lips and sucked in the digit, barely an inch then slowly retracted.

“Aw, f**k yeah,” Jeremy moaned.

Ezra felt the throb of a growing bulge beneath the fabric of Jeremy’s cargos. His pulse pounded, throbbing in conjunction with his own hard-on. He shifted in his seat, maneuvering his position to work around the gearshift, and carefully unzipped Jeremy’s fly.

At such an early hour, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a hue of light around them. But the dashboard lights provided further illumination, enough for Ezra to get a real good look at the package he began to unwrap. “Holy f**k,” he whispered. “That ain’t no blunt. You’re packing a Fat Daddy Stogie.”

As Ezra fisted the boner, a pearl of precum glistened in the slit. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in to lap it up.

“You like that fat boy?” Jeremy pressed his hand against the back of Ezra’s head. “Taste it. I know you wanna.”

He did. God, how he did. Jeremy’s musk, mildly pungent though tempered with the scent of a manly soap, fueled Ezra’s hunger, and without further ado, he dove for it. He parted his lips and slid downward, engulfing the crown of Jeremy’s monster. Twisting his head, he positioned himself in order to press his tongue firmly against the sensitive frenulum of the c**k and then began to suck in earnest.

“Oh fuuuck....”

Jeremy’s pleasurable response encouraged him, and Ezra slid down the pole, sucking and bobbing his head. At first he didn’t bother to even look up but instead concentrated on his task, and when Jeremy tightened his grip around his skull, Ezra surrendered to him, allowing him take control.

“Look at me, boy,” Jeremy said, and Ezra rolled his eyes to stare up at the macho bodyguard. With the c**k still pressing against Ezra’s tongue and his lips wrapped around the shaft, Ezra smiled with his eyes. “Oh yeah. You’re my little b***h. Aren’t ya, boy?”

“Mmm.”

Jeremy grabbed Ezra’s head with both hands and shoved him all the way down, forcing his lips against Jeremy’s nutsac. As Jeremy groaned, Ezra felt the snap, the firing of semen into the shaft. He sucked harder while Jeremy’s legs began to twitch. The flood of hot salty c*m erupted in Ezra’s mouth, pumping into the back of his throat. He gulped as Jeremy moaned. “Oh f**k. Hell yeah!”

Ezra didn’t pull away until Jeremy had completely drained himself. He lay back in his seat, breathing heavily, and Ezra at last pulled away. He kissed the crown of Jeremy’s c**k before tucking it away where he’d found it. He then slid into his seat and groped his own raging hard-on.

“You like that?” Jeremy asked. He depressed the seat control to incline the backrest.

“Mmm.” Ezra nodded and squeezed himself.

“Cool. I knew you’d be a good cocksucker.”

Though not entirely sure Jeremy meant it as a compliment, Ezra couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. “Well, I hope this won’t be the last—”

“It won’t be. I’ll be back tomorrow. For the money.”

Ezra nodded as Jeremy reached for the door handle. He pushed open the door and climbed out, then leaned down to wink at Ezra before strutting back toward the building.

Ezra’s heart and rigid hard-on continued to pound as he drove the Grand Prix around the side of the building. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened. Holy f**k, of all the guys on the planet, he’d have never suspected Jeremy Logan to swing his way. Well, to be honest, how’d he know which way Jeremy swung? All Ezra knew was that the dude liked a good b*****b. It really didn’t matter, Ezra was more than happy to oblige him when he wanted or needed servicing.

And he scored a bag of weed, to boot.

He was dying to tell his best friend, Justin, about what had gone down, so he whipped out his phone as he drove to the end of the driveway. The lazy dirtbag would certainly still be asleep at this hour, but Ezra didn’t care. He’d text him anyway. Justin would respond when he woke up.

He glanced down at his phone as he began to type at lightning speed. Simultaneously, he noticed an opening in the traffic. Skilled in the art of multi-tasking, he stepped on the gas to veer out into traffic, but when he did, the b***h didn’t cooperate. His ancient, eighteen-year-old car coughed, sputtering as he tried to gun it. Exasperated, he dropped the phone in his lap and grabbed the wheel, stomping the gas pedal.

As if in protest, the b***h sputtered one last time before giving up the ghost, but not before lurching forward into the intersection. Panicked, Ezra snapped his head to the side just in time to see an eighteen-wheeler barreling toward him.