Last Chance Read Online Free PDF Page A

as being a sensible way of avoiding getting my head kicked in. But was it something else? Had I been trying to appear straight to live up to my dad’s image of masculinity? If so, it was a stupid way to live my life.
    “Yes! One matching pair of socks, hand knitted by yours truly.”
    I turned to smile at Steve, marveling at how he was secure enough in himself to knit in front of all those strangers. I recalled all the times he’d reached out to me in public and I’d shrugged off his touch, until he’d finally got the message and stopped trying.
    He didn’t deserve to be treated like that.
    I took his hand, lacing my thick fingers through his slender ones. Steve raised a quizzical eyebrow before darting his gaze around the crowded train carriage.
    “Fuck ‘em,” I whispered, before kissing him right on the lips.
    I pulled away before the contact woke my dick up, as there’s no way I’d be able to hide it in that ill-fitting suit, but I rested my forehead against Steve’s, my dreads falling down to create a curtain between us and the rest of the world.
    “I reckon I should knit more socks, if that’s what I have to look forward to when I finish.”
    “You’ve got a lot more than that to look forward to,” I murmured.
    Steve licked his lips. “So have you, Poppet. You just wait until we get home and I model these babies for you.”
    He held up the sock, resplendent with its brick red, olive and ochre stripes, and I shook my head, chuckling.
    “What? Not sexy enough for you?” Steve pouted but his eyes still sparkled. “Fine, well I won’t be modeling that pair of leather sock suspenders I bought then, will I?”
    My head filled with an image of him dressed like those men in the Victorian photographs I’d found online, naked except for their socks and the suspenders that wrapped around their upper calves, emphasizing the swell of muscle beneath them. My dick perked up at the thought, and Steve must have noticed because he gave a dirty snigger.
    “Oh yeah, I remember that vintage filth you showed me. And besides,” he added with a sheepish grin, “I got the tension wrong and they’re too baggy to stay up without some support. Your mum suggested it as a solution.”
    I couldn’t stop smiling all the way back, even with my suit as a reminder of our somber morning. And later, when Steve finally walked out of our bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of brightly colored socks and some cherry red suspenders, I fell down to my knees and worshipped every inch of him, before letting him push me up against the wall and pound my arse into oblivion.
    We fell asleep tangled up in each other’s arms and I felt strong, worthy, complete.
    Because he’s my man.
    And I’m his.
    End.
    If you liked this book you might like: First Impressions by Josephine Myles
    Last Chance
    Copyright © 2011 by Josephine Myles
    All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680
    Printed in the United States of America.
    Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / September 2011
    Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680