Fahey's Flaw (14 page)
He grinned and, with a slight nod, walked out. Sam seemed to be mocking him just a bit, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t his idea for the doctors in their practice to be called by their first names—‘Dr. Travis’ versus ‘Dr. Nelson’, as most physicians who saw adults were called. The men who’d started the pediatric practice had wanted it that way. He was merely the newest partner hired on as the others aged toward retirement. And he didn’t mind good-natured teasing. It did sound strange to call himself Dr. Travis, but whatever. He’d graduated medical school with honors and had chosen pediatrics as his specialty. People could say what they wanted, or think what they wanted
. I’m a good doctor who cares about children.
That was what kept him going during the day.
* * * *
His other passion was what kept him going at night. Travis opened the garage door to his house and went to his Specialized Tarmac Mid Compact bicycle. The beautiful black, red and silver frame called to him. He could have had the worst day, or the best day, it didn’t matter. When he arrived home, he wanted only one thing. He’d change into riding clothes, drink a protein shake, and head out for a ride. Depending on his route, he could ride twenty-five to thirty miles in an evening. On the weekends he’d ridden one hundred miles before, but usually averaged somewhere around fifty.
He managed twenty-five and called it good for the warm spring evening. He’d agreed to participate in a road race for the Chicago Children’s Charity Fund on Sunday morning, so he didn’t want to overdo it the next couple of days. Travis enjoyed philanthropic events, but tried not to be too vocal about it. He’d learned early on that none of his partners was quite as physically fit as he was, and they were quick to volunteer him to represent the practice during athletic challenges. He didn’t really mind. The very image of kindly old Dr. Webster trying to get astride a bicycle of any kind always brought a smile to his face.
Back home again, he wiped down his bike with soft rags before heading inside to the shower to tend to himself. A hard ride always worked up a good sweat, and today was no exception.
Travis closed the shower door and stood under the tepid water spray. He reached up and switched the showerhead to a pulsing massage beat and allowed it to work on his back for a few minutes. When he finally went for the soap, he realized his cock was standing at half-mast and the realization surprised him.
When was the last time I had a hard ride that didn’t involve my bike?
He couldn’t remember back that far.
His last serious lover had moved on well over a year ago. He and Jack had been together for three years, but had slowly grown apart. A pharmaceutical rep, Jack had spent his days on the road and had gotten to the point where he hadn’t wanted to do much of anything at all in the evenings, except drink. He’d enjoyed his before-dinner cocktails, his dinner-time cocktails, and his after-dinner cocktails long into the evening. When Travis had expressed concern, Jack had said he could quit drinking whenever he wanted. He’d simply never wanted to. Jack had moved on to someone who wanted to drink with him, not nag him about it.
It had taken some time, but Travis had finally gotten over the split. Acceptance didn’t come without some damage to his heart, though. He’d vowed to think twice before getting so deep into a relationship that he’d fall in love again. Love was for suckers. Love was for co-dependents who couldn’t stand to be alone. Travis was neither of those things.
He was happy by himself, working hard, playing hard, pushing his body to its physical limits on a daily basis. He was still paying for medical school, but was finally making enough that he’d purchased a nice house and a bike that cost more than some people’s first car. He was happy with the life he’d built. He was just plain happy.
Yet here he was, cock now at full attention, yearning for the one thing Travis hadn’t quite figured out yet.
Okay, so I’m not completely happy.
Adjusting the water temperature to the verge of hot, he then lathered his shaft from base to tip before returning the soap to the dish. With one hand pressed against the tiled wall and the other stroking himself, he closed his eyes to conjure up his dream guy. A muscular, athletic man with rock-hard abs and pecs he could bounce a quarter off. A man with curly blond hair and a soul patch beneath his bottom, fleshy pink lip.
Travis’ eyes popped open.
Where the hell did that come from?
He’d enjoyed lots of fantasies in his thirty years, but never once had the parent of a patient tripped his trigger the way Sam Madison had today. Sam was an impressive hunk of flesh, if what Travis had seen through the faded jeans was accurate. Well hung or not, Sam was damned cute and—
what the hell?
Definite fantasy material.
Stroking his cock, he imagined unbuttoning those tight jeans and lowering them to the floor. Would he find boxers or briefs underneath?
To his delight, Travis found no underwear to fight his way through, just a long, pinkish colored shaft with a slightly purple, bulbous head. He kneeled in awe of the magnificent organ and sucked the crown into his mouth.
Sam wanted more—needed more—and thrust his hips, sending several inches of throbbing flesh down Travis’ throat.
Travis could barely breathe but he didn’t care. He licked and sucked with abandon, taking all he could get into his mouth and inching forward for more.
His own cock shuddered before release overtook him, and he sprayed seed against the shower wall. He fisted his shaft and pumped for as long as he was able, until he could barely remain standing.
The shower stall was full of steam so he turned down the water temperature and washed the wall before cleaning himself. His closely cropped brown hair required very little shampoo and conditioner, but he applied each dutifully. When he felt sufficiently clean and content, he shut off the water, opened the door then grabbed his oversized towel.
Travis stepped onto the soft bathroom throw rug and proceeded to dry himself off. He was finally getting hungry, and had a nice, thick-cut T-bone steak in the fridge that he could throw on the grill and have ready in twenty minutes, along with a fresh salad.
The mirror was foggy from his overheated shower so Travis took the blow dryer and cleared it. He studied his reflection and wondered how he’d look to a man he might get naked with for the first time. Tattoos covered his body from both wrists to shoulders, his pecs, abs, back, and both legs, groin to ankle.
Travis smiled. The tats made him feel like Clark Kent, hiding a secret identity under his suit and tie. His only unmarked skin, besides his face and neck, were his hands, feet and the area covered by his briefs. He wasn’t afraid to get his ass tattooed, he just hadn’t done it yet. But no one, artist or not, would touch his cock with a needle. He was obsessed, admittedly, but he wasn’t a fucking lunatic.
About the Author
Jenna Byrnes could use more cabinet space and more hours in a day. She’d fill the kitchen with gadgets her husband purchases off TV and let him cook for her to his heart’s content. She’d breeze through the days adding hours of sleep, and more time for writing the hot, erotic romance she loves to read.
Jenna thinks everyone deserves a happy ending, and loves to provide as many of those as possible to her gay, lesbian and hetero characters. Her favorite quote, from a pro-gay billboard, is “Be careful who you hate. It may be someone you love.”
Email:
[email protected]
Jenna loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.pride-publishing.com
.
Also by Jenna Byrnes
Rose and Thorn Society: Switching Seth
Rose and Thorn Society: Never Say Never
Rose and Thorn Society: Brooklyn Bound
Rose and Thorn Society: An Unexpected Win
Kansas City Heat: Dixon’s Duty
Kansas City Heat: Peyton’s Pursuit
Kansas City Heat: Cameron’s Code
Kansas City Heat: Taylor’s Task
Kansas City Heat: Rainey’s Release
Kansas City Heat: VanDoren’s Vice
Kansas City Heat: Hyatt’s Hunt
My Secret Valentine: Secret Rendezvous
