Scum (Wrong Side of the Tracks 1)

Heat crept into his face again when he spotted the filled condom that kept his lover’s spunk from flooding his body.

Ros almost asked him if he was staying the night, but then remembered where they were and the bubble burst. He lifted himself to his elbows, deliciously sticky.

“I never came like that.”

His lover’s teeth glinted in the red glow from outside, and he leaned in, gently biting Ros’s lip. “That’s because you never experienced me. You should give me your number, pretty boy.”

Ros’s heart just about fluttered out of his chest. He shouldn’t let this guy patronize him, but being called a pretty boy melted him as if he were a dollop of whipped butter dropped into a hot pan.

Shane wanted his number.

They’d be doing this again.

Somewhere. Somehow.

“Only if you give me yours,” he whispered into another kiss, intoxicated by this connection his father could never learn about.

Chapter 3 – Shane

Shane had had plenty of sex in prison, but never like this.

Never with a boy this pretty.

Never in a bed.

Never without the pressure of what others might think. And while he had every intention of using Rosen to destroy his father’s political career, why not enjoy himself while he was at it? His youth might have passed behind bars, but when he’d pinned down the slender, smooth body and looked at the handsome face surrounded by a halo of wavy hair, he felt like no time had passed and he was twenty again.

Even though he’d been speeding down empty roads for half an hour already, his flesh still buzzed with the aftermath of the needy kisses and the memory of his cock buried deep in that tight ass.

He already imagined Ros eventually telling his father how in love he was, and that he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Ed Beck’s horrified gaze would slide to Shane, and he’d instantly realize that the man he considered scum to piss on had been fucking his boy for weeks. Shane had no doubt that unwanted visions of Ros on his knees and begging for cock would pass through Beck’s mind, searing themselves into his brain forever.

Shane might not have the resources to hurt the corrupt bastard in any other way, but his charm and cock might just do the trick.

He’d left Rosen with a big hickey to remember him by, and while the boy had been horrified when someone had knocked on his door soon after the two of them had finished fucking, he didn’t push Shane away, and instead froze against him, as if in need of guidance.

Shane could give him that and more. He’d corrupt that sweet, innocent soul and mold him into someone Ed Beck couldn’t afford to keep around. And once the conservative voters the bastard wanted to attract found out about the illicit family secret, it would be Bye bye, political career!

Dark satisfaction filled Shane’s veins as he slowed upon approach to the junkyard owned by his good friend, Frank. Back in the day, the two of them had operated the business together—both the legal and illegal parts of the venture. But since leaving prison, Shane had been getting reacquainted with the world and had to catch up on how the place was run nowadays. Frank put no pressure on him and told him to enjoy freedom before considering any real work, but Shane would eventually want to pull his weight, so he took notice of how the piles of scrap had grown.

Ten years ago, Ed Beck had contacted them about a woman he’d ran over while driving under the influence at night. She needed to disappear, and the two of them could make it happen for a handsome sum of money. Shane had been drinking that night, and in a moment of absolute stupidity had decided to sit in Beck’s fancy car while on the job.

The cops had come out of nowhere—just a random patrol—and before he knew what had hit him, Shane had been accused of being the driver who’d killed the poor woman. Beck confirmed that version of events. His career couldn’t take such a fall, he’d later said, but while he’d hired a decent lawyer for Shane, the sentence had still been ten years. Frank must have been beside himself, worried that his side business might become exposed in the process, but Shane had kept his mouth shut and had taken the fall for everyone.

When Shane had been barely twenty, Frank had caught him stealing at the junkyard, and instead of shooting him on the spot for trespassing, Frank had given him a chance to prove himself. The bastard was the size of a bear, but deep down in that chest made of steel, hid a soft heart. If not for the general population, then for lost gay boys in need of guidance. They’d not only kept in touch throughout the years, but Frank had also made sure Shane’s commissary account was always well-stocked. By the time Shane had gotten out, they’d become real good friends.