Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Emboldened by the sight of Adam’s tongue touching the corner of his lips, Caspian leaned forward and winked. “How about I pay for two and we drink them together?”
When Adam glanced up at him again, Caspian could have sworn he heard the boy’s speeding heartbeat. “I’m sorry, I can’t… I’m at work, you know. Sorry,” he mumbled. “Mocha? Extra sprinkles on the house,” he added as if wanting to… finish the transaction even though Caspian’s presence at the counter wasn’t blocking anyone else from placing their order.
But it then occurred to Caspian that maybe Adam’s boss was a hardass who didn’t want his employees flirting with customers. Would the boy write his number on Caspian’s receipt, like people did in the movies?
Either way, Caspian hadn’t come here to walk away empty-handed.
“When do you get off? I could wait,” Caspian said and rubbed the boy’s finger on the counter. The brief touch sparked arousal in his balls, as if his libido were out of control. They could fuck in Gunner’s old fucked-up truck, if the boy were up for it, because no one in their right mind would care about the vehicle being a piece of junk when such prime dick was on the line.
But Adam froze, sucking on his bottom lip in a way that sent Caspian’s mind down the rabbit hole of cocksucking.
A man in a suit and tie approached the counter with a smile. “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Caspian asked, taken aback by the intrusion. It wasn’t as though Adam had other customers to serve at the moment.
“I just noticed you haven’t yet received your drink, sir. Would you like me to take over, Adam?” the man asked, and to Caspian’s frustration, the boy nodded and stepped away from the register as if he were fleeing.
He walked off with a mumbled “Sorry, I mean, thank you.”
The fuck was that? Why would the pretty boy miss out on the dick ride of his life? Caspian might not have any experience topping, but it wasn’t like he’d never had sex, and what he didn’t know he could surely make up for in enthusiasm.
“Since when is it not appropriate for staff to chat with customers? Is that some new policy I’m not aware of?” Caspian asked, fighting the boiling heat under his skin. He’d spent his life as a permanently pissed-off guy with no muscle to enforce his will, and yet despite now having this large, imposing body, he didn’t know how to fight such rudeness when the people involved weren’t scum.
“I could see my barista getting uncomfortable. Please just order your coffee and—”
“What was there to be uncomfortable about? I wasn’t being unpleasant.”
“You are being unpleasant now, sir. Please don’t cause a scene.”
He wasn’t causing a scene! What on earth was this about?
It was as if someone had injected adrenaline straight into Caspian’s veins. “What’s your problem?”
He could sense at least a dozen eyes sticking to his back in unhealthy curiosity. Of customers, and even of the other staff as if he were a freak show just because he looked imposing. Of course Gunner would have marked his perfectly handsome face with an ugly tattoo. The bastard had no future beyond bars, orange jumpsuits and an early grave, and therefore no reason to keep such natural perfection unspoiled.
Fucking idiot.
The manager raised his hands, but frowned. “There will be no problems as long as you leave peacefully, sir.”
Caspian’s own body wouldn’t have had long enough arms to grab the huge jar of roasted coffee beans standing by the espresso machine. But Gunner’s did, and Caspian grabbed it before tossing the entire contents at the manager. “Congratulations. You’ve just earned yourself a ton of reviews, but for now this is me throwing pearls to the pigs,” he growled and spun around, storming for the door.
He hadn’t been insulted like this in his entire life! These people treated him as if his sole presence was an infection that needed to be contained with a cocktail of vodka and antibiotics. Un-fucking-believable.
And even though he was in the right, his head boiled with embarrassment at the sound of whispers meant to chastise him and chase him farther away. Worst of all—it was working.
And Adam, who had always been polite, had turned out to be a prissy, elitist fucker, who dismissed a guy just because he looked as if he might have been born on the wrong side of the tracks! So he wasn’t good enough to plow that precious ass, because he had old shoes and a rusty truck? There wasn’t enough money in Caspian’s wallet to splurge on a new wardrobe right now, and he had no doubt that this massive frame was as difficult to shop for as his own tiny one. Couldn’t he just enjoy this fucked-up dream for what it was?