So this week we're supposed to be focusing on love, no matter the location. Well, in my new WIP, The Master Challenge*, Dominant Agustin has found the man he wants, in a coffee shop of all places. Although it may take a little deception and a whole lot of planning to get Joaquin to agree to give him a chance. Enjoy my sexy seven paragraphs and be sure to check in with the rest of the peeps.
*this is a kinky retelling of the Celtic Tale, Jack and the Master for Decadent's Beyond Fairytales line.
|Joaquin, bratty coffee bartista|
“Refusal isn't an option, my sweet boy. I will have you.” Agustín Barahona leaned in, taking in the scent of dark Arabica coffee, cinnamon, and just a hint of nutmeg as his server set down his latte. It wasn’t just the wonderful smells emanating from his drink, which had his mouth watering. The young Latino in front of him had his cock hard and throbbing behind sharply creased pants of his Armani suit. Ever since the bratty boy had spilt his iced Frappuccino on him nearly eight weeks ago, Agustín had been determined to claim him. He would have sexy boy in his bed, under him, and begging for release, even if he had to resort to blackmail.
Joaquin, if his nametag was correct, only smirked at his words. With his legs shoulder-width apart, one hip jutted forward, and his ‘what the hell ever’ attitude, the barista issued a challenge that Agustín had no intention of refusing.
Shrugging, the boy didn’t seem even the least bit concerned. “Maybe? Maybe not. I guess it will depend upon how well you play the game.” Then he slung the white towel, he’d been using to wipe off tables, over his shoulder and sauntered away. As if he hadn’t just turned his back on one of the most powerful brokers on Wall Street.
Agustín wrapped his hands around his latte, then prayed for patience. He had money, power, good looks and above all else, he was a sought after Dom. He had all the necessary skills to make a slave of Joaquin. All it would take is a little bit of time, and a whole lot of fast-talking. But first he needed to find the boy’s weakness. Surely, there was something he could exploit? Some hidden kink in the armor Joaquin wore around him.
As Joaquin stalked away from him, his tight little ass flexing under the tan chinos, Agustín settled back into the corner of the booth he’d commandeered for himself. Then did what he did best.
Watched. Watched as his prey fluttered from table to table. Watched as he refilled cup after cup with a smile. Watched as the boy flirted with everyone, but him. Watched as the customers responded in a way that made him want to rip them to shreds.
Like the average looking joe dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans on the other side of the room. A low growl built in his throat as the trucker laid his hand on Joaquin’s arm, and touched what Agustín already considered his. His fingers tightened around his drink, nearly crushing the paper cup. Not yet. You can’t punish him until he wears your collar. Let it slide for now, but remember it for latter. For when you have him at your mercy.