Free I'll Be Your Last by Jane Leopold Quinn Page B

massage his own cock as he, Woody, persuaded his asshole to relax and open up to a fantastic ramming.
    Stroking himself to a climax in the shower, he barely dried off before heading to his bedroom for the glass butt plug. It wasn’t another man, but it would have to do for tonight. Pining for Mack kept him on a sexual cliff edge. He’d never sleep until he got his anger, angst, and frustration over the man out of his system.
    In the dark bedroom, throwing open the bedside table’s drawer, he paused, a confused frown drawing his eyes together. Where the hell is it? It was here the other…
    “Looking for something?”
    The breath slammed out of his lungs in a whoosh. He straightened, completely aware of his buck-naked state and who just spoke, the voice deep, sultry, and amused.
    He whirled on the man and gave him a withering glare. Opening his mouth to get some much-needed air back into his lungs, he blurted, “Son of a bitch!” His eyes adjusted to the dark, aided by soft light filtering from the bathroom. There was just enough brightness to see Mack, dressed only in black jeans, his belly and chest bare and so hard and muscular, Woody’s mouth watered. One hand held up the glass toy, the other, braced on a thick thigh, held the container of lube.
    He closed his eyes for a moment to hold the electrifyingly sensual sight in his mind for all time. Big, buff Mack Penchant, every woman and gay man’s wettest wet dream, holding a glass butt plug. And he’d know how to use it, no doubt about that. Woody repressed a shudder of desire. Fresh from a very thorough shower, he licked his suddenly dry lips. Mack was here. What the hell was going on?
    “How’d you get in?”
    “I’m a cop. I have my ways.”
    Mack’s smirk was just too sexy, damn him. Too confident.

    I’ll Be Your Last
    67
    Woody felt his cock throb and lengthen at the thought of Mack wielding the dildo. He didn’t need to look down to know pre-cum seeped from the tip. In fact, he couldn’t look down. Mack’s intense stare held him hostage.
    “What the hell are you doing here? You’ve made it clear you’re not interested and that we have to stay away from each other.” Mack took a deep breath. Placing the plug and lube onto the bed, he leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. He looked down at his folded hands and slowly shook his head. “Maybe I can’t stay away from you.”
    Woody grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wrapped it around his hips, and leaned against the doorjamb. If he was going to have this conversation, he needed to cover his manly bits. “What does that mean?”
    “Just what I said.”
    “No, you aren’t really saying anything. I’m not ashamed of my sexuality. I think you are. Ashamed or in denial. I don’t know where we’re going with this—this attraction, but…” Mack suddenly glanced up, his expression tortured. “Listen, Woody, all I know right now is that you are one hot guy. Having sex with you the other night was mind-blowing. I’m not in denial. I just don’t want anyone to have the chance to beat us senseless if they find out. I don’t do relationships. ”
    “I don’t know what to say to you. I’m not a social worker. If you’re so uncertain of what you want from me, then I’m not sure I can help you.”
    Mack rose from the bed and stood in the center of the room, his hands fisting and opening repeatedly. “But I want you.”
    “That’s not enough. We’re both too old for booty calls. I don’t want that in my life anymore.”
    “Shit. You’re just a kid.”

    68
    Jane Leopold Quinn
    “I’m old enough to know what I want, and transient sex is not it.
    You’d probably better leave as fast as you came in. Neither one of us deserves to be tortured like this. What do you want from me, Mack?” Mack’s hands came up as if under arrest. His expression was full of indecision and disbelief. “I’m not looking for a partner.”
    “Maybe I am,” Woody stated quietly but decisively. He