Deluded
12 pages
English

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12 pages
English

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Description

It shouldn't take a crisis to make you realise what you really want, but on the night Max intervenes in a bashing, he finds that the bond between him and his forthright buddy Jay is stronger than he'd ever thought.

Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 07 mai 2019
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781789820782
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0050€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Deluded
An Erotic Short Story
Sam Thorne





First published in 2016 by
House of Erotica
www.Houseoferoticabooks.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2019 Sam Thorne
The right of Sam Thorne to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.



Deluded
Sam Thorne
Part One
I’m going to talk to him. Today. Even if it’s just ‘hi’.
Max marched into the toilets at the Richmond Arms to gather his nerves and dry his clammy palms on something other than his jeans. He needn’t worry about being caught pacing; the usual crowd wouldn’t start filtering in until half five or six.
He just needed time to gather his wits.
Mr Smooth was sitting out there, blond head bent over a fat paperback, occasionally abandoning his reading with a hard sigh as another work call forced him to fish out his mobile. Smooth would turn towards the window to talk, the sun catching the brilliance of his blowtorch smile and the warm glow in his soft fuzz of blond stubble. Shadows deepened his bracket dimples. His voice was deep and calm; just hearing it was enough to make Max feel like he’d been hit by a chocolate cake and thrown down a hill. But what really caught Max’s attention was the way Mr Smooth dealt with people on the phone, and the way he gently commanded a conversation with ten times more charisma than any one man should possess. And so young, too. He couldn’t be older than thirty.
Max stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, wishing there was a crowd in the bar now for him to blend in with, or at least that he had a book of his own to make him look ‘busy.’ He could read his Wodehouse’s Blandings on his iPhone, but didn’t want to look like some sad soul addicted to screens. Not while the object of his fascination was intellectually absorbed in Faulks’ Birdsong.
Max’s reflection revealed a bundle of irrational nerves. Physically, he was making forty work well for him. A combination of jujitsu and weekend farm labouring - something that had to stop - kept his broad shoulders and chest well-defined and his waist and hips trim. His look was as casual as ever - smart jeans, red t-shirt and checked shirt with sleeves rolled up to right above his elbows. The fabric was uncomfortably snug around his biceps, but that was just the penalty for avoiding shopping for short-sleeved shirts. However insignificant a chore, it would still involve making a decision about something.
Though he thought he looked a little tired, his face - as his sister had so sweetly assured him - was ‘above-average okay’. Apparently he’d aged like a wine, rather than a banana.

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