“How about a replica of my dick then? You seemed very enthusiastic about it last night,” Shane said and wiggled his brows, taking a sip of his coffee.
Ros pulled on a curlier bit of his hair. “I might just need it between dates…” Did he really say that?
“I’ll let you examine it later. So you can consider which materials to use.”
Just thinking about it made Ros shift in his seat as his dick pulsed in response to the thoughts the conversation was provoking. “Something hard but flexible.”
Shane rested his elbows on the table and hid behind his mug with brows hanging low over his eyes. “To be honest, this thing is a bit new for me too. I haven’t dated anyone… in a while.”
“See? Now I get to be shocked. Only reason for that I can imagine is that you haven’t wanted to.”
The broad arms dropped, and Shane’s green eyes clouded as he stared into his own reflection in the cup. “Life got in the way. And there’s been no one who’d… who could make me want more than sex. But there’s something about you, Ros. I think we might get along well,” Shane said, his gaze appearing completely sincere. Maybe even a little shy.
Ros’s heart fluttered at the same pace his dick hardened. “Is it my drug-dealing ways or how I can pull off a cloak?”
“In my line of business, you keep expecting a bullet in the back of the head. I like that I can see what you’re thinking. But the cape was a nice touch,” Shane said, winking.
Ros swallowed. “I wouldn’t consider myself particularly dangerous, so you’re safe with me.” But was he safe with Shane? Or was he stepping too far out of his comfort zone? It was too late to go back, because his feet were dying to dance on the wild side.
The conversation moved on to less stress-inducing topics when Shane asked Ros about his university and plans for the future. By the time they’d eaten their muffins and finished their coffees, Ros was much more at ease. They hadn’t decided what to do once they paid, but Shane had suggested Ros could get better acquainted with his beautiful cock, so maybe he’d be invited to a cool bachelor pad where Shane often had sex with different guys?
Ros was on the fence about the pinch of jealousy at the back of his neck but got distracted when Shane pulled out a fat wad of cash and dropped two notes on top of the bill.
“So is the night-time trade your main job?” Ros asked, unsure what to make of the money.
Shane smirked. “You make it sound like I’m a hooker.”
Ros bit his lip. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s not what I pay taxes for, but it brings the most cash,” Shane said and stuffed the money down his pocket. He didn’t seem to carry a wallet.
“Not afraid to lie to the IRS?” Ros teased but wasn’t sure if he was excited or a little bit scared.
“I’m not afraid of anything, honey,” Shane said and rose from his chair, ready to go.
There was such confidence in the way he moved that were Ros a different man, he’d have dragged him into the restrooms and tasted his cock for the first time before they’d even gotten their food. But he was a good boy and could wait for the right ambience.
“I can’t believe you just said that! It can’t be true.” Ros got up, already itching to hold Shane’s hand the way all his straight friends did with their dates. And yet he had to restrain himself until they were someplace private.
Shane’s hand brushed against his as they left the table behind, sending a jolt of electricity all the way to the top of Ros’s head. “Wanna bet? I’ll do any crazy thing you come up with,” he said and opened the door for Ros.
So maybe that was a bit revealing when it came to what kind of relationship they had going on, but Ros’s heart beat too happily for him to think straight.
“Okay. See that guy?” Ros pointed to a forty-something biker in leather, sitting with a blonde woman at a table just outside the café. “Go kiss his bald head and ask him where he gets it polished.”
Ros stiffened when Shane’s brows went up, but before he could have recalled his request, his date turned on his heel and approached the couple like it was no big deal.
The biker had his thick paw under the woman’s leather jacket as he kissed her, and remained unaware of the intruder until Shane bent forward, gave his tattooed head a smooch and asked, “Where do you get that polished?”
Ros burst out with laughter, but it died on his lips, when the biker shot up and scowled at Shane while all the other patrons went silent. A pin could have dropped and the echo of its clang would have carried for a mile.