Page 2 of Blush

Out of curiosity and sheer stupidity, I take a step into the aisle just to catch a peek. When I do, my throat goes dry and the air is sucked out of my lungs. The man on the phone is so beautiful and I can’t force myself to look away. My eyes are drawn to him. His long legs, tight thin body, and confident stance. He’s wearing baggy jeans with a coat wrapped around his waist, a black crop top covered with flowers and skulls, and an open cardigan that looks like a grandma made it by hand. What catches my eye the most though, is the white pearl necklace around his throat. It’s sitting perfectly against his creamy flesh and the sight has my cock leaking.

After reaching down to adjust my pants, I look up to see him staring at me.

“I gotta go, bye bitch.” He ends his call abruptly, pocketing his phone as he continues to hold my gaze.

He’s walking toward me and I don’t know what to do. Should I move so he can walk by? Should I turn around and leave now? Could the Earth just open up and swallow me whole?

Choosing the path of least resistance, I turn my back to him to make my way to the exit. Before I can take a second step, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I think maybe it must be some sort of phantom touch like my imagination is playing tricks on me, but when he speaks, that theory is thrown out the window.

“Hi there, handsome. I need your opinion.”

Oh, fuck me.

“Ye-yeah?” I stutter. Realizing that I’m still facing away from him, I turn slowly. I avert my gaze, focusing on his boots as I clear my throat and try again. I hope I sound calmer than I feel. “What’s up, man?”

He raises a brow, not looking convinced by my fake bravado. He must not care because he lifts two fleshlights, one in each hand. “Which one would you get?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t know,” I fumble through my response. I don’t know how to answer because that’s not the toy I would be buying. I don’t want to stick my cock in anything. I want to be full of cock. But that’s neither here nor there, so I answer him the best I can.

“I would get that one,” I reply, pointing to his right hand. Why? I don’t know. I just need to answer him and abort the mission.

He stares at his right hand and shrugs. “Yeah, okay. That’s what Micah said too.” He places the other package back on the shelf and turns to me again, making me wonder why I’m still standing here. “What about you?” he asks. “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

Despite his near-seductive smirk, this beautiful man successfully deflated my boner with his question. Now it’s not just my hands that are clammy. I can feel sweat trickling down my back, my face is still melting with heat, and I’m positive I look borderline crazed.

“I’m good. I’m just going to head home,” I state but then realize I don’t need to explain myself to him. I’m a grown man, and if I don’t want to buy anything, I won’t.

With that, I sidestep him and move like a bat out of hell to get to the exit.

Please don’t let him follow me.

CHAPTER THREE

Shane

Oh,no he doesn’t.

Mr. Shy Handsome Hipster isn’t getting away from me that easily.

I slide in front of him right before he can reach the exit. Fuck, he got there fast. I had to kick it in gear to beat him, tripping over these damn boots I insisted on wearing today. I stare at him, slightly out of breath, and make an effort to soften my face when I notice him take a step back from me.

He’s avoiding eye contact, continuously eyeing the exit like he can just ignore my presence and pass by. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and shifting from foot to foot, wanting to get the fuck out of here, I’m sure.

“Listen, you helped me, now let me help you,” I say gently, hoping to calm his nerves.

He’s standing there, hands slightly trembling, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat. I would think he’s overdressed but that’s not it. He’s just in skinny jeans and a hoodie. Honestly, where’s his coat? It’s fucking February.

But still, he’s absolutely adorable. His brown hair is spilling out of his beanie, his eyes are covered by thin golden-rimmed glasses, and his lips are bright red from the cold winter air.

Fuck, now I’m the one adjusting my pants. I thank the gods for these baggy jeans because I don’t need him seeing my boner.

When he doesn’t answer, I press. “Please? It’s only fair.”

He finally glances at me for a moment, his eyes round as saucers. “Okay. I–I guess that’s fair.”

He is so my type, it’s not even funny. I like them nervous and twitchy, not in some weird predatory kind of way, but because those are the ones that have a hidden wild side. They’re the type I want to see squirm and whose faces darken when they tell me what they need. They’re the ones with the greatest look of euphoria pouring out of them when they finally lose control.

“So?” I ask, encouraging him to get on with it before he can change his mind. “Let’s find what it is you came here for, handsome.”

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