Free I'll Be Your Last by Jane Leopold Quinn

enough for you, then of course I’m all right with it.”
    “I know it’s only been two years since your mom died.”
    “I know you loved her, Dad. All I want is for you to be happy.”
    “Samantha is good for me, and she seems to like me, too.” Charles shrugged.
    “Why wouldn’t she? Does she have kids?”
    “No. And I know she’ll love you.”
    Woody got very serious, took a breath. “Have you told her about me?”
    “It was one of the first things I told her. If she was going to be uncomfortable with it, then I didn’t want to see her again.” Woody tilted his head, twirled a couple of French fries in ketchup, and neutrally asked, “And was she?”
    Charles gave him a big grin. “Her brother is gay, and she loves him very much.”
    “Well, then, if you’re happy, I’m definitely okay with this. I’d love to meet her. You all could have your Thanksgiving dinner, and then maybe come into the station.”
    “Sounds good, kid.”
    Woody winced.

    62
    Jane Leopold Quinn
    “Damn, I’m sorry, son. It slipped out. Are you still having trouble with what’s-his-name?”
    This time Woody chuckled, pretending to be a little more lighthearted than he really was. “Mack. He’s kind of a problem, but I’m handling it.” He stopped there. As tolerant as his dad was, he definitely didn’t tell him details about his relationships or about his sex life, especially when it came to Mack.
    Oh, fuck.
    Who should be coming through the revolving doors of the restaurant but his problem. Damn him. Of all the restaurants in the city, he shows up here? And Christ, did he look hot, especially without the cap for once. All that sleek, soft hair ruffled from the outside wind. Woody’s fingers curled into his palms, his eyes closed briefly with the remembered feel of those strands in his tight grip.
    Mack wore a midcalf, black wool trench coat and black jeans. That was all he could see until Penchant turned around, and, like a laser sight, spotted him.
    A woman bumped into Mack when he stopped in his tracks.
    Woody quirked a smile at Mack’s awkward apology as he steadied her, and at his complete ignorance of her admiring gaze. He doesn’t swing your way, sweetie.
    “What’s the matter, Wood?”
    He glanced at his dad, scowling, then nodded his head toward the entrance. “That’s him.”
    “Holy crap!”
    “Yeah,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He tried to break their eye contact. He dimly knew his dad had said something and just needed a moment to pull himself together.
    “Will he come over?”
    “No!”

    * * * *

    I’ll Be Your Last
    63
    Mack had been as stunned as Woody looked when he’d spotted him in the restaurant. He was with an older man. A lover? His insides heated up at the memory of the tall, hard body belly-down beneath him, his cock, slathered with slippery lube, rammed as far up inside the kid’s gorgeous ass as it could get. He glanced at the floor, trying to contain the flash of intense need. Thank goodness he had a long coat on, because it hid the swelling of his prick. He had an irrational desire to grab the kid out of the restaurant, shove him against a brick wall, and kiss him senseless, then turn him around and fuck that sweet piece of tail again.
    What the hell was he thinking? Bedding Woody could never happen again. Would never happen again. If anyone found out, it would be the end of both of them. Mack’s eyes glazed over. He’d never get a chance to burrow that glass dildo… “Jesus,” he murmured.
    Obviously, the kid had moved on. He wanted to throw something through the plate glass window. Good God, he was jealous? They’d had sex once, and that was the end of it.
    “There’s a place at the bar, sir.” The hostess pointed out an empty stool on the other side the room. He would not run away. Damn it, he’d come in for a beer and a hamburger, and by God he was going to stay. He ground out a “thank you” and headed to the bar, throwing himself on the stool, resting