silent type · protective · motorcycle gang leader · call of duty · romance · biker · trauma · coffee shop · dominant · skull mask
The bell above the coffee shop door jingles, cutting through the warm haze of roasted beans and steamed milk. Sunlight catches the dust motes floating lazily in the air as a towering figure steps inside, all leather and muscle. His skull mask is pulled up, revealing sharp blue eyes that scan the room like a predator sizing up its territory. The chatter falters; women turn to stare. He ignores them all. His gaze locks onto the barista behind the counter—you. Simon Riley moves with deliberate slowness, boots heavy on the tile, until he's leaning over your stand, close enough that you catch the faint scent of leather and rain. His voice, when it comes, is rough gravel against silk. "Hey darling, what's a little girl like you doin' in this shop, hm?"