Mr. Average

an excerpt



Chapter One

There's just something about hot men. The way they look, the way they smell, the way they fill out those tight jeans, pulled snugly across a fine bubble butt. The thought alone gets me all worked up. I've put time in to get the body I have. My suits are tailored to accentuate muscles that come from spending a lot of time at the gym. I visit my stylist twice a month to keep my dark red hair neatly trimmed. I wear contacts so glasses don't hide my blue-green eyes. I look good and I love the men who appreciate it and look as good as I do. I've worked hard to cultivate my image. As a senior partner for Tennyson, Daniels and Manetti, I've learned image is everything.

This is why I don't understand the fact that Kyle Backes, my mechanic, turns me on in ways no other man ever has. He's nothing to write home about. He's always in dirty grease-stained coveralls, his brown hair is mussed and usually slick with sweat, and his eyes are brown, nothing special about them at all. He's not bad looking. He's just...average. When I see him, though, it's like fire and ice in my veins. I've tried to figure out why, but I keep coming back to the same thing: Kyle is just an average guy, like a thousand other guys. If I were to see him on the street I wouldn't even notice him. Maybe.

* * *

"G'afternoon, Mr. Manetti," Kyle called out as I entered the garage.

"Hi, Kyle. How's my baby today?" I asked him, smiling at the double meaning.

Kyle walked along the length of my sleek gray Lamborghini Murcielago, eyeing it with hunger. He's the only one I'll let service the fine piece of machinery. He treats the car as if it was his, a fact I truly appreciate. Plus it gives me a good opportunity to watch as he bends over to inspect the engine. I imagine taking him that way, thrusting into him while he's splayed out on the hood of the car.

"Mr. Manetti?" Kyle's voice brought me back to reality. I shook my head and met Kyle's eyes. I felt my zipper straining and made a slight turn, discreetly adjusting my bulge.

"I'm sorry, Kyle, I was daydreaming. What was that you said?"

Kyle grinned. It made his face light up and caused my balls to tingle.

"I said she's as beautiful as ever, Mr. Manetti."

"Why don't you call me Lucas? I'd prefer it to Mr. Manetti."

"Sure thing, Lucas. I just want to give it a quick check and you'll be good to go."

Kyle knelt next to my car and I had to fight the urge to go shove my crotch into his face. I imagined him kneeling there, lips wrapped tightly around my cock as I thrust deep into his mouth. I was forced to stifle a groan. I don't know what the hell was wrong with me. I could never see myself in a relationship with Kyle. Everything about him ran contradictory to what I was able to achieve. I knew I didn't want him for a lifetime. I just wanted him on his knees, submitting to me, letting me use him whenever I had the urge.

That's the moment I finally realized the truth of the matter. I didn't want Kyle. I wanted to have Kyle. I wanted to hear him scream my name. I wanted to hear him beg me to fuck him. I wanted him to be my willing and ready toy, something I could take out and play with when I felt like it. No strings, no attachments, just hot sex. His perfect averageness made him ideal for what I wanted. I could wine and dine him, dazzle him with all I had to offer. Who wouldn't want to step out to a fancy restaurant they'd never be able to afford on their own? Have designer clothes, jewelry, the works, all for a little slap and tickle when I wanted it, though I have to admit I'd probably want it pretty often. I could have almost any man, but they took work, and having something easy during the dry times would be a welcome relief from a strong right hand.

"Kyle, how long have we known each other?" I asked, keeping the conversation casual. I knew the answer. Kyle had been servicing my car for a while now, to the point where seeing him was definitely something to look forward to. He'd started being featured in quite a few of my fantasies during that time too.

"You've been coming here for more than two years, Lucas. The first car you brought in was that sweet Classic Ford GT40. Last year you had the Aston Martin Vanquish-that was a cherry ride-and now the Lamborghini."

"And you've been the one who's worked on them all, right?"

"Yes, sir," Kyle said, pulling himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest a bit. "When you first brought in the Ford it was cool, I knew that car inside and out. I was worried about the Aston Martin. That one took a lot of time and effort to figure out how to fix ‘er up, but it was worth it. This Lamborghini, though, is the most amazing car and I'm real grateful you still come here, even though there are a lot of other shops that could handle this car way better than we can."

I glanced around the shop. The haphazard collection of tools and diagnostic equipment definitely wasn't top of the line. How Kyle was able to do the amazing job he'd done was beyond me. He was right, there were a lot of other garages better equipped to handle my cars, but every other mechanic I've ever dealt with was slovenly, annoying, stupid or just downright incompetent, despite the fact that their equipment was much higher tech. Not one of them had Kyle's desire to learn or determination to get the job done properly.

"You know why I keep my car here, right?"

Kyle looked perplexed as he ran greasy fingers through his hair.

"To be honest, I don't, sir. I figure a man like you would have enough money to take his beauties anywhere he wanted. I've never asked because I'd hate to lose your business and I figured it wasn't any right of mine to wonder."

"It's simple, Kyle. You take care of my needs. You work hard, you know what you're doing and if you don't, you'll figure it out. You treat me and my cars with respect and I believe that kind of loyalty deserves the rewards that come with it."

Kyle stared down at his feet, a blush creeping across his face.

"I'm grateful for your kind words, sir. It's good to know my work is appreciated."

I stepped in closer to Kyle. Far enough away so he knew I was there but not so close as to scare him off. I'd always gotten the vibe that Kyle was gay, but why take chances? And even if he wasn't, I'd had straight guys before. Whoever said money couldn't buy happiness obviously wasn't shopping in the right places.

"Kyle, would you want to have dinner with me?" I asked quietly.

Kyle took a small step back before he peered up at me with wide eyes. I thought he was shocked.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

I gave him a cheeky grin. "Dinner, you know? The meal that comes in the evening, where you sit down at a table, order something you'd never eat at home, have a nice glass of wine, top it off with a decadent dessert. Dinner. Does it ring a bell?"

"I appreciate the offer, Lucas, but I already have plans this evening."

"That's fine. I'll take a rain check for some other time. We'll plan for it in a couple of weeks," I said, I didn't want to give him the opportunity to think I'd forget about it. I snatched up my keys and pulled open the car door, sliding into the dark leather interior. "I'll talk with you later. Take care." I threw the car into reverse and backed out of the garage. I thought about heading for The Palm, one of the local bars. I wanted to see if I could roust a bit of action since I wasn't going out with Kyle, but figured it was too early for there to be many people. Deciding against it I headed home, looking forward to a long, leisurely shower.