The door to the cat café bursts inward, causing more than a few people to snap their heads around and look. The young man stops in his tracks, pursing his lips and looking embarrassed. The owner of Toe Beans, a rather intimidatingly large, bearded man with numerous tattoos, arches an eyebrow at the newcomer from behind the counter. It would probably come across more menacing if he didn’t have a tiny black kitten perched on his shoulder. And another one poking their head out of his apron pocket.
“Sorry,” the young man mouths with a wince. Then his bright eyes begin scanning the room as people go back to their conversations.
I already know he’s looking for me, though.
Our messages have been brief since he replied to my ad, but Oliver Carver told me that he’d be wearing a white polo shirt with blue horizontal stripes, jeans and Converse. That matches the young man hovering awkwardly by the coffee shop entrance now.
More than that, however, I have a nose for sweet little submissives. This boy’s body language is practically screaming to get him tied up and be driven wild. The way he’s wringing the strap of his messenger bag between his hands and the slight hunch to his shoulders both betray the tension he’s carrying. I could melt all that away for him in less than twenty minutes. He’s also panting gently from hurrying here because he knew he was late, telling me that he needs a firm hand to keep him in line.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. This young man hasn’t even officially agreed to play with me and August. Yet I’m already itching to step in and sort his whole life out.
First things first, we need to be properly introduced.
I take pity as his blinking eyes sweep the crowded room again. Even though I told him I’d have dark hair and be wearinga white shirt, that description could apply to a couple of other men in here. But I don’t think Oliver has actually noticed me in his frantic state. So I raise my hand until his gaze meets mine. His eyebrows shoot up questioningly, and I nod in response.
It seems like his entire body sags in relief, and he dashes over to my little circular table for two by the window. I arrived an hour ago to make sure that I got a suitable position in the busy café. Not just to monitor the doorway, but one with additional charm, hence the nice view outside. If I’m going to expect this boy to trust me, he needs to see that I know how to take care of him from the start.
“Tallis?” Oliver checks as he approaches, his pale cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Up close, I can see his sandy blond hair is thick just the way I like for pulling. And his eyes are a beautiful shade of teal. Quite unusual.
“You must be Oliver,” I say warmly, indicating that he should sit in the vacant chair.
He doesn’t so much sit as crash onto it, his bag strap still gripped in his hands. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he says earnestly, his eyes alarmingly glassy. “I don’t have a good excuse. I was fussing over my hair and lost track of time. If I’ve blown this before it’s even begun, I understand.”
His distress is unacceptable. I reach forward and cover his smaller hand with mind, easing my fingers between the strap and his palm. Gradually, he lets go, letting me cradle the hand I’ve claimed. The other one drops into his lap, and he blinks at me in confusion.
“Your hair looks perfect,” I assure him. “And I appreciate your apology. So long as you know your mistake, there’s no harm done.”
He shifts in his seat but doesn’t pull his hand away.
Good boy.
“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze.
My heart skips a beat. Does he know how perfectly submissive he’s being right now?
Before I can say anything further, however, the server I spoke to earlier appears beside us. She has a large mug and a small cake stand filled with bite-sized goodies.
“Here you are, sir,” the woman says cheerfully to me, putting the items in front of Oliver. “If you need anything else, please let me know.”
“Thank you so much,” I tell her. She smiles at us both, glancing approvingly at our linked hands, before leaving and allowing me to return my attention back to my little wide-eyed treat. “I took the liberty of ordering for you earlier, instructing the waitress to bring it over once you arrived. Hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, and one of their tasting menus.”
I glance out at the blazing summer sunshine through the window. The air conditioning might be in full operation in here, but Oliver is still glistening slightly and panting from his hurried journey to meet me.
“However,” I amend, “if you would prefer a cold drink instead, I can arrange that immediately.”
Oliver shakes his head, staring at the mountain of cream atop his drink. “No, this is wonderful, thank you. Now I feel even worse for being late when you were so thoughtful.”
I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to look into my eyes once more. “I told you not to worry about that,” I say firmly. “But in case it makes you feel any better, if we move forward with this arrangement, I would like to incorporate a small punishment into one of our scenes to balance us out. How does that sound?”
His jaw drops a fraction, and I see a full-body shiver rush over him.
Dear lord. Between my legs, my cock throbs.
“That sounds fair,” he says breathlessly.
I nod, satisfied. “Drink,” I tell him, letting go of his hand and lifting up my teacup to take a sip myself.
He blinks again, showing off the long lashes that grace his high, still vaguely pink cheekbones. Then he seems to remember the hot chocolate, and gingerly picks the mug up with both hands.