Seduced By My Doms BN (2 page)

“Thank you,” she mouthed as she stood and hurried out the
door.

Finally on the sixth ring, someone picked up at the bar.

“Genesis. James speaking. Can I help you?”

The man’s rich, buttery voice spilled like syrup down my
spine. It was almost as if he’d caressed me with his hands. My stomach
tightened, my pussy twitched, my heart rate quickened, and my nipples drew
tight. Every neglected hormone in my body zipped to life. For a minute I
thought Monica had mistakenly dialed 1-800-Studs-R-Us.

It took a long moment for the man’s question to glide past
my sexual impulses and register in my brain.
Could he help me? Hell yes. If
he fucked as good as he sounded, he could help me for days…weeks…months. Maybe
even years.
Biting back a moan, I cleared my throat, subduing my visceral
reaction to his erotic voice.

“Um, yes. Hello.”

“Hello,” he repeated. I could hear the hint of amusement in
his tone. “Is this your first time calling Genesis?”

Huh? Why would he ask that?
Aside from his strange question,
I noticed there wasn’t any loud music or rowdy patrons yelling in the
background.

“As a matter of fact, it is. My name is Liz—”

“You don’t have to use your real name, sweetheart. But since
you probably just did, rest assured we grant total anonymity here.”

Anonymity? For what?

“Ah…okay.” I was growing more confused by the second.
Frowning, I dismissed his strange behavior and focused on finding Trevor’s
partner. “I’m an Emergency Room nurse at Highland Park Hospital. I’m calling
for a young man by the name of Trevor Hammond. Do you know him?”

“Yes. What’s happened to him? Where’s Drake? Is he with
him?” James barked out his questions without giving me a chance to answer. That
didn’t bother me. What did was the command in his tone, slicing with such
potency I started to tremble.

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.