Devour – 7

Last updated on May 23, 2021

7.

Shane was used to men running to him, being out of breath when they arrived in front of him. It meant that he was the most important thing to that person in that moment.

“I’m glad you could make it,” said Shane to Emrys. He crossed the distance between him and the podium where the maître d stood. Emrys jumped to follow.

Gerald escorted them himself to a room all to their own. There were at least ten tables made up in the room, and no one but themselves sat in the room. Gerald closed the French doors.

Shane smiled at Emrys. “I like the uniform look,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t change.”

“You won’t need to.”

Emrys raised an eyebrow.

Shane put a hand to Emrys’ cheek. Emrys’ eyes went wide. Shane leaned in, kissing Emrys, long and deep. Emrys emitted a shocked noise, but opened his mouth to receive Shane’s exploring tongue. Emrys relaxed against Shane’s hands that had wandered down to his waist.

Shane stepped back, giving Emrys air. “Claim me,” Shane said, his voice almost a growl.

“Here? In the restaurant?”

Shane took a chair and placed it against the handles of the French doors, blockading them inside.

“You’re serious.”

“I am indeed serious.” He shoved the plates and utensils aside, pushing the tablecloth along with them, exposing the wooden table beneath. Some plates clattered to the floor, and Emrys whirled to the door, expecting someone to knock on the door. No one did.

Shane took Emrys’ face in his hands and held his head still. “No one will bother us until I open those doors.” His hand again wandered down to his waist. This time he lifted the knit Fed-Ex shirt over Emrys’ head.

After feeling his pecs, Shane unbuttoned his own shirt and cast it to the floor.

Then the seduction began in earnest.