Seduced By My Doms BN

by Jenna Jacob

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I don’t know who Drake is, but Trevor arrived alone. I’m trying to reach someone he refers to as Daddy. Do you know—”

  “Drake is Daddy. Um…some people call him Moses, but Trevor calls him Daddy,” James blurted. “What’s happened to Trevor?”

  “I’m sorry. That’s confident—”

  “Answer me,” James barked in demand. “I need information to give to Drake.”

  “I’m sorry but—”

  “Spare me your confidentiality crap,” he spat. “Fuck it. I’ll reach Drake.”

  “Wait,” I shouted before James could hang up. “We’ve tried to reach him on his cell, but Trevor said he left it at home. But he did say that he and Dadd—um…Drake were having dinner with Mika. Do you know how I can reach him?”

  “Well, at least I know Trev can still talk,” James spat sarcastically. “Tell me what happened to him.”

  “I can’t do that,” I replied, desperately clinging to the last of my civility. Subconsciously I knew James was lashing out in fear. Still, it didn’t mean I had to take it. “I’m trying to explain to you that I need to contact—”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about your HIPAA shit,” James snarled. “I’m a cop. Tell me what happened to Trevor. What condition he’s in. I know you have his vitals, goddamn it.”

  The man’s ruthless tone would have normally raised my hackles and pissed me off. Instead, it set fire to my girl parts and sent a yearning ache all the way up my spine. Caveman James had ignited a fire within, and I squeezed my thighs together, attempting to smother the flames that licked my core.

  “Listen,” I began, in a slow, icy tone. “I need to notify Trevor’s next of kin. Do you think you can calm down long enough to help me with that or not?”

  “Oh, lady. You do not want to go there with me. Not like that,” James warned.

  The threat in his voice was unmistakable, and damned if it didn’t turn me on all the more.

  Or what? I wanted to ask. Was he going to show up at the hospital, turn me over his knee and spank my ass? An arc of lightning blasted south. Jesus. You need to lay off the kinky romance novels.

  Never before had a man’s voice unhinged me in such a sexual way. Pulling the phone from my ear, I stared at it slack-jawed for an instant. What the fuck? Maybe I needed to haul my ass upstairs to the psych ward and move into a room. With a glare, I pressed the phone back to my ear, preparing to unload on the man, with both barrels.

  “I understand you’re only doing your job,” James continued in a slightly less combative tone. “But Trevor…damn. I love him. Please. You have to give me something to tell Drake to keep him from totally freaking out.”

  As James professed his love for Trevor, the sultry X-rated fantasy blazing in my brain evaporated like smoke.

  Seriously. You call a gay bar and what? Think a straight guy’s going to answer the phone? Forget a room on the psych ward; you need their padded cell with a straight jacket.

  “Are his injuries critical?” James pressed.

  “No,” I mumbled.

  Instead of mourning the loss of a stupid fantasy, I should have been kicking my own ass for divulging patient information. But I wasn’t, I was too busy asphyxiating my raging hormones.

  “Thank you,” James exhaled in gratitude. “I’ll call Mika and see that he passes along the information to Drake, right away. Will you do me a favor… Liz, is it?”

  “Yes. On both counts.”

  “Tell Trev we love him, and to hang tight, we’re on our way.”

  Without waiting for a reply, James hung up.

  “Dayne would be proud of how you took care of Trevor,” Cindy whispered from behind me.

  Startled, I jumped and almost fell out of my chair. Slamming down the receiver, I twisted around to face her. My heart pounded a racing staccato as a wave of adrenaline plowed though me.

  “Damn, Liz. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Cindy tried, but failed to hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry. Why are you so jumpy?”

  “I’m not. It’s just… I didn’t know you were sneaking up behind me,” I chided with a scowl as I tried to calm my racing heart.

  “I shouldn’t have doubted your ability to handle Trevor. I’m sorry.”

  “I just did my job. He’s scared and alone.” I shrugged, still feeling tingles prickling my skin at the sound of James’ sexy drawl.

  “No, you did your job with chainsaw dude. He was scared and alone, too. You did a hell of a lot more with Trevor, and we both know it.”

  I gave a non-committal noise from low in my throat.

  “Trevor has Dayne’s hair color,” she remarked quietly.

  “And the same shade of blue eyes. Yes, I know,” I added glancing at the double doors. “He should be coming back from CT soon.”

  “He’s going to be fine,” Cindy assured.

  “I know.” I nodded.

  “But the best news of the night is that we only have an hour and thirty-three minutes until our shift at The Night of the Living ER is over,” she stated dramatically, then slumped. “Well, until tomorrow.”

  “Not for me,” I gloated. “I’m off the next two days.”

  “You lucky little… You’re going to miss me—and the smell of feces and blood.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “You, yes. The other…not so much.”

  “What wild plans have you made?” Cindy asked, pouring a cup of coffee.

  “Don’t drink that,” I warned. She quirked a brow, sniffed the brew, then tossed the cup into the trash. “The usual, read, sleep, eat, and do laundry.”

  “Good grief, your life sounds as exciting as mine,” she quipped with a roll of her eyes. “I take it you haven’t heard anything from Ryan?”

  God, why did she have to mention him? I shook my head and frowned. “No cell service in the wilderness, remember?”

  Over seven months ago, my on-again/off-again ex-live-in lover packed his bags—yet again—and left, citing yet another attempt to “sort out his life and priorities.” This time he’d chosen his father’s remote hunting cabin near the peak of Rampart Mountain, Montana. I doubted Ryan had left on a quest of enlightenment. Most likely he wanted an excuse to run away from our fractured relationship as he’d done numerous times before.

  But unlike the past, when he’d stayed away only a couple of days, this time it felt permanent. Surprisingly, I was neither hurt nor sad, and that spoke volumes. I’d tried to call him numerous times to tell him we were through, but either he’d trekked to a location so remote he had no cell service, as I’d intimated to Cindy, or the man was simply ignoring my calls. I needed closure but I wasn’t going to get it now.

  “No balls is more like it,” Cindy mumbled, sourly. “I’m sorry, Liz. I know you care about Ryan, but you deserve better. You need to stop licking your wounds—”

  “There aren’t any wounds to lick. Trust me.”

  “So why aren’t you out dating? Or found some hunk to pound you into the sheets yet?” She leaned in closer. “If I were you, I’d find the first strapping stud available and fuck his brains out.”

  I shot her an incredulous smirk. “You are like me. What’s your excuse?”

  Her lips pursed into a little pout. “Doctor Samuel Brooks doesn’t know I’m alive.”

  When the tall, blonde, beefy surgeon—with the stunning sapphire eyes—toured the ER for orientation, Cindy took one look at the man and fell head over heels in lust. Ever since, she’d been pining for the man like a schoolgirl over the star quarterback.

  “I’m waiting for him to buy some goddam glasses. If he can’t see me after that, I’m going to throw myself in his arms and beg pitifully.”

  “Make sure I’m here when you do,” I laughed.

  Cindy rolled her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath, and stop trying to change the subject. We’re talking about you, not me. You need to forget about Ryan. He’s had ample opportunity to get his shit together. It’s time you focus on you and
your happiness.”

  Cindy didn’t bother hiding the fact that she’d lost all respect for Ryan the first time he’d disappeared because he needed “his space.”

  “I already have,” I assured.

  “Then I ask again, why haven’t you put yourself out there and started dating?”

  “Said the pot to the kettle.” I smirked.

  “I already told you, I’m waiting. But I won’t wait forever. That man needs to shit or get off the pot. A woman has her limits, as you well know.”

  “Yes. And rest assured, I’ve hit mine. So stop worrying and harping on me. I’ll find someone. Someday.” At least I strived to keep the hope from dying.

  “Not here you won’t,” she stated derisively. “Well, maybe. I mean chainsaw dude was kind of cute, in a caveman sort of way.”

  “Eww.” I wrinkled my nose. “He had more hair on his back than he did his head.”

  Cindy snorted. “You’re right. All I’m saying is that you need to throw away your vibe, and find a strapping stud to rock your world.”

  Scoffing at her suggestion, my gaze dropped to the phone. If there were a man I wanted to rock my world, I’d choose James. Sadly, I’d also have to grow a penis for that possibility.

  “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re as pent-up as I am,” she persisted.

  I shrugged absently as James’ sinful voice resonated in my head. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You need to stop thinking, and just do it. Go pick up some big ol’, well-hung hunk and let him put out your fire.” With a saucy wink, she turned and hurried away.

  “He’d better have a mighty powerful hose,” I mumbled.

  Ryan had been shutting down for months before he’d taken off again. It had been eleven months, twenty-seven days, and three hours since he’d kissed me or we’d had sex. My girl parts felt so abandoned, I was actually worried my hymen might grow back.

  Almost from the start, the passion fizzled from our relationship. Raised by a single mom, I wasn’t sure what to expect since I didn’t have a role model to compare relationships with, I guess I assumed you met someone, enjoyed some fireworks, then settled into a blasé—but comfortable routine. Still, I hadn’t expected the sparks to be snuffed out completely. I tried to convince myself that companionship over intimacy was more important, but sleeping alone these past few months, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Things with Ryan had been good in the beginning, or at least I’d thought so. My walk down memory lane had me teetering too close to the crux of my problems with the man, so I reined that shit back, fast.

  Enough! He made you laugh, and pulled you out of the darkness. Be grateful, and leave it at that.

  Instead of fixating on why I’d stayed with a man who didn’t meet my needs, I thought of Cindy’s suggestion to find a one-night stand. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d already tried. I was too embarrassed to share the debacle with my bestie but that didn’t keep the gory details from running through my head.

  A week after Ryan left—once I’d packed his belongings and hauled them to a storage unit—I decided it was time to erase the six wasted years I’d spent with the man. Dr. Stanley Epstein from oncology stepped up and asked me out to dinner. I readily accepted, determined to prove to myself that I could handle a stable, secure man. There was none steadier than Stanley Epstein. It was common knowledge among the staff that the doctor was searching for a wife, two-point-five children, and a white picket fence. My biological clock wasn’t ticking loud enough for me to be concerned about children. My primary interest was to be horizontal under the sexy doctor. I didn’t need a ring on my finger for that. When he picked me up in his flashy BMW sports car, my hormones started circling Stanley’s wagon like a tribe of galloping Indians. Not because of his car, but because out of his white lab coat, the handsome doctor had one hell of a hot body.

  Seated at a romantic candle-lit table for two, he held my hand then looked into my eyes and asked what Synagogue I attended. When I shook my head and explained that I wasn’t Jewish, he stammered then paled. The Ultra-Orthodox doctor dropped my hand as if I were riddled with syphilis or leprosy.

  When the color finally returned to his cheeks, he sheepishly confessed he’d wanted to take me to bed for months. But since I didn’t share his faith, he couldn’t touch me…literally. However, he assured me that we could still remain friends. Insulted and annoyed that he had no intention of examining what was inside my pants, every wisp of anticipation blew away. Stanley quickly took charge of the conversation, and began prattling on about cancer treatments. With the dance of seduction yanked off the table, I realized the man was self-absorbed—to the point of nausea—and fixated solely on himself.

  Faking a headache, I caught a cab home. Not surprisingly, Stanley Epstein never asked me out again. The whole fiasco convinced me of two things. First—never accept a date from a co-worker again. And second—diving back into the dating pool after the sucker had been drained, scrubbed clean and dried was beyond pointless. It took a bit of time, but focusing on work rather than obsessing over things that were missing in my life became less frustrating. Until a mystery man with a voice as smooth as honey ignited the pent-up yearnings within.

  Glancing down at the phone, I shook my head in disgust.

  Keep dreaming, sugar. It’s never going to happen.

  The double doors swung open with a whoosh. Jerking my head toward the sound, a slow smile tugged my lips. Sylvia, a tall striking nurse wearing tightly woven cornrows, pushed Trevor toward me.

  “I brought your boyfriend back,” Sylvia announced.

  “There you are. I was worried you were going to stand me up,” I chided.

  A cautious smile crooked one side of Trevor’s mouth. “I never stand up the pretty ones.”

  Rounding the desk, I shot him a teasing wink. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Nah, just you. You’re an angel,” he whispered tiredly.

  His words gripped my heart and squeezed. ‘You’re an angel, sis,’ had been the phrase Dayne often used to convey his gratitude for all the large and small sacrifices I made to keep us together. Shoving away the memories, I sucked in a deep breath and followed Trevor back to the trauma room.

  After unloading the machines from the foot of his bed and reattaching the leads, I poked my head into the room next door to inform Dr. Reynolds, Trevor that had returned. Donning a fresh pair of gloves, I stood at the side of his bed. The swelling on his face had increased and a multitude of bruises now painted his pale flesh. Trevor was having a hard time staying awake. I worried he could be suffering from more than a mild concussion. A brain bleed wouldn’t have been out of the question, considering the extent of his injuries.

  “How are you doing, slugger?”

  “Naw so good,” he mumbled, barely lifting his eyelids. “Hurt.”

  “I know you do, honey,” I sympathized with a soft stroke of his cheek. “We’ll be able to give you some pain meds soon, now that your tests are over.”

  “Good,” he murmured, closing his eyes once more.

  Scanning the CT report, a surge of anxiety filled me. Trevor’s spleen was indeed ruptured, but thankfully there wasn’t any indication of a brain bleed. Still, he’d have to be taken to surgery, soon. Glancing at my watch, I wondered how long it would take Trevor’s loved ones—particularly James and his erotic voice—to arrive. Filled with a sudden impatience, I wanted Drake to see Trevor before he went up to surgery. Having witnessed patients in far better condition than he expire under anesthesia. I knew all too well the relentless regret of losing someone without having a chance to say goodbye.

  What possessed me to consider such morbid thoughts in the first place? Trevor only needed a simple splenectomy, yet an overwhelming fear pumped through my veins. The chart in my hand trembled and perspiration dotted my forehead. Wiping the sweat on my sleeve, I dragged in a ragged breath feeling as if I were going to start hyperventilating. Still, I couldn’t rise above the debilitating h
ollowness that consumed me.

  Stop! He is not Dayne.

  Clawing for the tattered remnants of my professional veneer, I worked to detach all my emotions from Trevor. I had a patient who needed my skills, my attention. Failing to provide him the best possible care burned like acid. Digging deep, I gripped tight to my resolve, determined not to let Trevor down…or myself.

  “Daddy,” he moaned.

  “He’s on his way.” Cringing at the brittle tone of my voice, I issued an inward curse. Sliding my hand over Trevor’s head, I focused on melding compassion and skill, and softened my tone. “I was able to reach a man named James.” And if he were hetero, I’d like to do a whole lot more than just touch. “Do you know him?”

  Trevor grunted with a slight nod.

  “Well, he said for you to hang in there. That he loves you, and he’s bringing Daddy to see you as soon as he can.”

  Trevor’s chin began to quiver.

  “I know it seems like you’ve been waiting forever, but hang in there. He’ll be here real soon.”

  Trevor then began to sob, long, desolate wails that tore at my heart and brought a thick lump to my throat. The same sounds I’d always imagined clawing deep from Dayne’s chest as he sat alone in his kitchen, tears streaming down his beautiful face as he opened his mouth and wrapped his quivering lips around the barrel.

  Oh god! Not now. Please don’t let me sink into that desolate hole. Not here.

  Tears burned the back of my eyes. Rapidly blinking them back, I turned and grabbed a handful of tissues to wipe them away. Gathering up more, I pivoted toward Trevor and gently blotted his slender cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, honey.”

  “I can helpa…don wan him see me like hiss.”

  “Why don’t you want him to see you like this?” I sniffed. “Drake loves you… I’m certain.”

  “Don wan him see me like his… No’a’gin,” he sobbed.

  “Again?” I asked as shock pinged through me. “You mean…you’ve been beaten like this before?”

  “Worse,” he whimpered.