Page 19 of Flash

“Hell yeah, I’m in,” Jag agrees immediately.

Piston and Hero echo their agreement.

“Yo, Brick.” Jag cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, even though he’s standing right next to the curtain that’s definitely not soundproof.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Brick grumbles, shuffling out with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets. At first glance, he looks entirely out of place in a tattoo shop with his skin free of any ink and his only visible piercing a pastel pink hoop through his septum. He’s even smaller than Jag, but given the origin of his nickname, I wouldn’t want to mess with him any more than I’d want to get on Jag’s bad side.

“No can do.” Jag smirks. “Come out with us. You can even ride bitch on my bike.” He puts on an exaggerated purr that makes Brick purse his lips, obviously unimpressed with the offer.

“Hard pass, and not just because I refuse to be your bitch.” Brick pats Jag’s cheek and then skirts around him to head out.

“Fine, we’ll have fun without you,” Jag shouts after him. “Alright, let’s mount up.”

I arch an eyebrow, mostly because it’s fun to stand on decorum when Jag is so dedicated to anarchy.

“Don’t you think the club leader should be the one to say that?”

“Yes, fine, if the power trip is that important to you, go ahead.” He waves for me to go on.

I bite back a grin and shake my head. “Piston can play your fearless leader tonight. I’m going to sit this one out.”

“You sure?” Hero eyes me with concern.

“Yeah, go ahead.” I wave them off. “I’ve just got a headache. You guys have fun.”

“I hear fresh air is great for a headache,” Jag teases. I chuckle and don’t bother to correct him. Not that I’m going to confirm it either. They’ve heard as much as they’re going to from me about Lewis.

I dawdle, cleaning up my workstation while they all head out through the back, the same way Brick went a few minutes ago. Their motorcycles all roar to life and the sound slowly fades into the distance. I finish cleaning up, bagging up the garbage and carrying it out to the dumpster.

I brush my hands on my jeans and then slip my phone out of my pocket as I saunter over to lean against my bike. I pull up the text thread between Lewis and me and type out a quick message.

ARROW: Are we still on for tonight?

LEWIS: Absolutely. I’m just finishing up at work. About to take the trash out and then I’ll lock up and head home.

Another text comes through a second later with his address. I drag in a slow breath and tilt my face up to feel the fading afternoon sun on my skin. Tonight, I’m going to have Lewis’s breathy moans and the taste of his skin on my tongue again. My cock gives a heavy throb, my balls full and aching already. I drag my tongue slowly over my bottom lip and palm myself lazily through my jeans, staring at the message for another second.

ARROW: I’ll be there in an hour.

I pocket my phone again and pull on my helmet. The back door to the flower shop starts to creak open, but stops after only an inch. I watch it for a second, curious about the twink who was stupid enough to pick a fight with Jag. My phone vibrates again, and I check it one more time.

LEWIS: Can’t wait.

I grin and swing my leg over my Harley. I don’t have time to waste creeping on our neighbor; I need to go home and jump in the shower. My cock throbs again as I rev my engine and tear out of the alley without a backward glance.

Chapter 7

LEWIS

“Assholes,” I mutter as I shove my phone into my back pocket and hoist the bag of garbage over my shoulder, the sound of a motorcycle tearing loudly through the alley behind the shops. I push the door the rest of the way open and step out to toss the trash into the dumpster, only catching a fleeting glimpse of one of the Ink Slingers assholes just before he rounds the corner and peels away.

I hurry through the rest of closing up with Arrow on my mind the whole time. By the time I’m in my car, heading home, my cock is hard against my thigh and my stomach is dancing with excited impatience.

I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, and Arrow is already waiting for me there. He’s leaning against his bike with his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps bulging in his worn t-shirt. How is he even hotter than I remember? That should be impossible, but fuck, he really does look lickable. My mouth waters at the thought of tracing every inch of his tattooed skin with my tongue.

I tug at the collar of my t-shirt to cool some of the sweat beading on my skin, but it doesn’t do a damn thing. I get out of my car and give him a smile as I look down to fiddle with my keys, trying to find the one that opens the main entrance to the building. My hands tremble just enough to make the task difficult.

Sure, we’ve already hooked up twice, but this time feels different. It was planned ahead of time, for one thing, and that’s like a level. Plus, there’s a whole-ass world of difference between a hurried grope-fest in the car or against the wall and me inviting him into my apartment, into my bed, where we can take our time.

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