Off Duty
Page 1
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
Off Duty
Ellie Masters
Lucas X Black
JEM Publishing
OFF-DUTY
A Novel
From
Ellie Masters
&
Lucas X. Black
Copyright
Copyright © May 2017 by Ellie Masters and Lucas X. Black
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from JEM Publishing LLC, Ellie Masters, and Lucas X. Black. Please do not participate in, or encourage, piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
e-ISBN: 978-0-9978450-6-8
Cover Artist: Kim Lehnhardt (She’s awesome balls!)
Published in the United States of America
Publisher: JEM Publishing LLC (www.JEM-publishing.com)
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations, which are admittedly fertile and twisted, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
In other words, we got together and cooked up some wild and wooly imaginary shit for y’all, so don’t get all butt-hurt about this stuff. At one point, the tailgate of a pickup truck is even used for a spanking bench.
This novel contains scenes of BDSM between consenting adults. SSC/RACK aware. SSC means Safe, Sane and Consensual. RACK means Risk Aware Consensual Kink. If you don’t know what in the fuck you’re doing, don’t do this shit at home. If you engage in these activities, we accept no responsibility for it.
We are responsible authors and believe in safe sex. In real life, please use condoms to protect yourself...assume our characters do the same (hint: they are not real).
If you’re looking for faeries and unicorns farting rainbow glitter, the authors regret to inform you that you’re shopping the wrong aisle.
No animals were harmed in this novel, not even unicorns and we don’t even like those annoying little pests farting rainbow glitter all over the place. Okay, well, Ellie might like dragons, but there ain’t none of the fire-breathing vermin in this tale. The male lead in this story catches some fish at a few points through this book, but the fish were imaginary in any event, most were tossed back and the others grilled over a wood fire. Our characters swear they were yummy! So screw you, PETA.
Created with Vellum
Dedication from Lucas and Ellie
This book is dedicated to all the children who are living with life-threatening illness, to their families who support them, and to the angels of Make-A-Wish Foundation who make dreams come true.
Authors’ Notes
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. JEM Publishing LLC’s print and e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Disclaimer
Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither JEM Publishing LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
This story contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This story isn’t suitable for those who don’t enjoy dark romance, uncomfortable situations, and dubious consent. It has strong elements of BDSM with female domination and submission.
The story is sexy and twisty and dark. The themes of safe, sane, consensual practices and risk aware consensual kink are held by the main characters, and authors, as they should be in real life. Heed this warning, and enter the world of Off Duty.
A word of caution from the Authors
This book is a work of fiction. It does not exist in the real world and should not be construed as reality. As in most romantic fiction, we’ve taken liberties and compressed the romance into a sliver of time. We’ve allowed these characters to develop strong bonds of trust over a matter of days and engage in heavy S/M play and M/s relationships.
This does not happen in real life, where you, our amazing readers, live. Take more time in your romance. Negotiate. Make certain you understand what you are agreeing to, and when it comes to establishing a trusting Dom/sub relationship, we urge you to move with caution. Always protect yourself.
Please be careful. There are a lot of amazing and loving individuals who will walk with you on your journey, but there are dangers as well. People who may not be safe.
When you find your partner, TALK TO HIM or HER. Be open and honest about your needs, your expectations, and your limits, especially your HARD limits. Never allow them to violate the tender trust you give into their hands.
Always remember: they can’t read your mind. It is your responsibility to talk to them, no matter how frightening that might be. In return, you must listen to what they have to say and understand their limits as you do your own.
Share your hopes, desires, and deepest, darkest secrets. And always, always, be SAFE and SANE. Nothing that happens should ever happen without your CONSENT.
Have a safe word, and use it if you must. You MUST have a safe word. That is non negotiable. Use protection if you’re not in a committed, monogamous relationship.
Most of all, don’t be afraid to seek who you are, become what you want, and share your journey with your partner.
Love,
Ellie and Lucas
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
Afterword
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
Other Works by Lucas
Other Works by Ellie
Books by Ellie
Books by Lucas
Connect with Ellie
Connect with Lucas
Final Thoughts
CHAPTER 1
The call came in two hours before my shift ended. The situation sounded bad, a five-year-old fell from a climber at a local playground. Keith and Tom, our best critical care transport team, took the call. It was wrong that I looked forward to their arrival. I’d snuck glances at Keith since I’d been hired into this position. But I was the attending trauma doctor and Keith was a paramedic. In our line of work, we were worlds apart.
Years of experience told me what to expect. I pushed thoughts of Keith aside, and grabbed Tim Sanders, one of the pediatric emergency fellows, to join me. When I had been in his shoes, no one had taken the time to teach me this part of the job. Books taught about disease and how to cure it. Clerkships, residencies, and fellowships honed our skills in patching together the worst the world threw at hapless victims. But this? No one taught us how to deal with what was about to come through that door.
Two minutes out and my trauma team was ready. Tim looked too eager, bouncing on the balls of his feet, probably thinking about all the procedures he’d get to do.
Time to reel him in. “Tim!” My sharp voice cut through the ordered chaos of a waiting trauma bay.
“Yes, Dr. Peters?”
“Five-year-old, witnessed fall. Top priorities? Go!”
The bouncing stopped. Every case was a learning opportunity in my world. “Airway, breathing, circulation.”
“Obvious. Then what?”
“Secondary injuries.” He ran through our standard barrage of tests.
“The kid fell. What do we need to be most concerned about?”
My first year fellow stared blankly. The wheels in his head were spinning.
“You don’t have time to think,” I snapped. He flinched at the bite of my words, but I had no patience for those not at the top of their game.
Nancy, our senior trauma nurse pointed at her head, pantomiming head trauma, trying to give the poor guy a clue.
“Cervical spine immobilization?” Tim asked.
In the world of trauma there was no room to question the next move. “Wrong,” I snapped again, losing my patience. “Head CT. Think subdural, epidural bleeds, and brain swelling. Call your specialists the moment you get this kind of call. Think about the mechanism of trauma and pre-plan the next step.” I’d alerted the neurosurgeons to be on standby. Radiology already had the CT scanner waiting. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
Sirens sounded outside, announcing the arrival of our patient. My team surged forward.
Keith and Tom off-loaded the stretcher, a tiny body lay on the adult-sized bed. Tom squeezed a self-inflating bag, breathing for the child and rattled off vital signs to Tim.
My mouth gaped as Keith straddled the small form, squatting on the stretcher while he pushed on the child’s tiny chest, performing CPR. We’d never really spoken, but his eyes cut to mine, a simmering sadness reaching out to me. In that look, he told me all I needed to know. This wasn’t one we’d be saving. I stepped aside, my gaze zeroing in on the mother climbing out of the ambulance looking scared, lost, and traumatized.
I gave Nancy a jerk of my chin, and without words she understood. Nancy flagged down Janice, a junior nurse, to join me.
I offered my hand to the mother. “Hello, my name is Dr. Peters, I’m the trauma attending and I am going to do everything I can for your child.”
The woman sobbed. “Thank you. My husband will be here soon.”
I put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s your son’s name?” First lesson, knowing patient’s names showed the family I cared, their loved one wasn’t some nameless diagnosis to me. Names had immense power.
She looked at me, red-rimmed eyes swelling. “Caleb. His name is Caleb.”
“This is Janice,” I introduced Janice. “She will explain what is happening. I’m going to take care of Caleb. Janice will take you where you can see everything we’re doing for Caleb.”
Except everything wasn’t possible. Caleb returned from the CT scanner, the results the worst I’d ever seen, a large bleed and his brain was swelling. The neurosurgeons didn’t have any options. Caleb’s heart stopped beating coming out of radiology. We brought him back, stabilizing him, but his heart showed signs of slowing again. It was time.
“Tim, we need to talk with them.”
I explained my process. How I set up the room, the words I used. How I looked parents in the eye to deliver bad news, telling the truth. I told him the importance of using names, of not using too much medical lingo, but speaking clearly, allowing for silence to stretch—sometimes for as long as it needed to. I told him not to forget to bring in tissues. I even admitted I usually cried, and to expect I would this time too.
“Um…Dr. Peters,” he said, “I’m not really comfortable talking to parents.”
“No one is, but we’re going to go in there and do it as best we can. This is their son.”
Caleb’s father looked at the clock. “There’s nothing you can do?” He hadn’t taken his eyes from the clock since I delivered the bad news. He couldn’t look me in the eye.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, no.”
His mother stroked Caleb’s head, her crying stopped for now. “Is he in pain?”
Another shake of my head. “No.”
“Can I hold him?” Her voice pulled at me, a mother needing to provide comfort.
“Of course you can.”
“I don’t want him hooked up to tubes.” The man hugged his wife, who gave him a nod, some deep communication passed between them.
I sensed something happening.
Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. “Do you think there’s any possibility he’ll survive?”
For the third time, I shook my head.
Her husband stood, pulling his gaze from the clock. “We want to take him off life support…to die a natural death. We discussed…” He cleared his throat, then continued. “If possible, we’d like to donate Caleb’s organs so another child can live. Can we do this?”
They both looked expectantly at me.
I grabbed the box of Kleenex and pulled out a wad, dabbing at the tears in my eyes. “Yes, yes of course. And you can definitely hold Caleb.”
“Thank you,” the wife said. She grabbed a piece of paper from her purse and scribbled a note. Her hands shook. “Is it possible to give this to—to…” She pulled Caleb into her arms and broke down crying.
I found Dr. Sheldon, the transplant surgeon, at the end of my shift, staying over to find out if they’d found a recipient for Caleb’s organs. To my surprise, a child in our hospital was a match.
I handed him the note Caleb’s mother had written. “The mother of the donor wanted the parents to have this.”
He took it from me. “I’m headed to speak with them now. Do you want to give it to them yourself?”<
br />
Did I? I wanted to know what a mother would say.
“Yes.”
Dr. Sheldon led me to the waiting room where Josie and Mark Peterson waited.
“Their daughter’s name is Kelly,” he said.
“What organ is she getting?”
“Kelly is in kidney failure. She’s been on dialysis a long time.”
I walked into a waiting room and picked out the couple on sight. These were old timers, parents used to the rhythms of hospital life.
Dr. Sheldon introduced me.
I handed over the note. “I was asked to give this to you.”
The woman took it from me, her lips moving as she read the words. When she was done she held it to her chest.
Her husband, Mark, asked, “What does it say?”
Josie read the note out loud. “It’s from his mother, she says, ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to lose my son, but if his death means your child might live, then his life had meaning. He was my little hero.’”
Mark reached over and took my hand in his. “Please tell her, he’s ours as well.”