Impacted!, page 1
Table of Contents
Blurb
Author’s Note
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
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Copyright
Impacted!
By Mickie B. Ashling
Bay Area Professionals
On his way home from vacation, Scott Gregory, a closeted sub, hooks up with the gorgeous Red, a flamboyant Dom, for a thrilling one-off at a BDSM bar. They part ways after a satisfying scene… but meet again when Robin Kennedy—Red—arrives at his new job as a dental hygienist and discovers one of his two bosses is Scott.
Robin and Scott embark on a journey of exploration into their kinkier sides and discover they’re more than compatible—they’re a perfect match. But keeping employer/employee and Dom/sub separate at the office presents difficulties, and to make matters even more complicated, the owner of the dental practice is an acknowledged homophobe.
They fall in love, but Robin chafes at all the secrecy, refusing to live in the shadows. Scott isn’t as brave; he’s desperate to protect his job and his future. Will they be able to find some middle ground… or will their entire relationship fall apart because of fear?
Author’s Note
THIS NOVEL was first written back in 2009 on a dare. At the time, I confess my knowledge of BDSM was limited at best. Since then I’ve improved as a writer while learning a lot about the lifestyle from people who actually live it 24/7. Bottom line, there’s no right or only way to practice BDSM. Kink in whatever form is very often tailor-made to suit individual needs. Now in its ninth year, this novel, and the others in the Bay Area Professional Series, continues to attract new readers. I’m hoping you’ll enjoy this improved edition of Impacted!
Chapter 1
SCOTT GREGORY walked into the club, expecting something out of the ordinary. He’d been told this BDSM club was different, a step above others in the San Ramon area, and he’d deliberately rerouted his journey back to San Francisco to include this stop. On the last leg of a four-week vacation, he hoped to end it on a high note.
So far, nothing seemed different. The flashing lights, thumping techno sounds, and sweaty men crowding the dance floor in different stages of undress were disappointingly familiar. Corded arms and gyrating six-packs—the only form of currency which counted in this environment—were so much a part of being a gay man, one felt compelled to appear naked to show off the merchandise.
In contrast, Scott’s faded jeans and black button-down seemed out of place. He tried to picture himself from an observer’s viewpoint. At thirty-three, he was older than the rest of the men here tonight, but his disheveled mop of honey-colored hair, full lips, and high cheekbones belied the truth, and he could easily pass for someone in his late twenties.
Green eyes, the color of wet leaves after a spring shower, were the secret weapon that usually got him the prize. When he settled his gaze on a target, he was pretty hard to ignore.
Determination spurred him forward. There had to be another area in the club where people could participate in a form of entertainment still considered deviant and perverse. BDSM was the final frontier of sexual liberation, the dark side of loving most people considered socially unacceptable. To Scott, it was as necessary as breathing.
After spending the better part of a month tolerating mediocre hookups, Scott had no intention of settling tonight. Granted, his expectations were impossibly high, and thus far everyone had fallen short. But he was an optimist, a glass-half-full guy convinced the man of his dreams did, in fact, exist. Scott was looking for the impossible—a love connection within a D/s relationship. Finding a dominant man who tugged at his heart while providing the sort of sex he craved continued to be his goal, and the main reason he frequented the clubs catering to his kind.
Five minutes inside the secluded section of the club, he knew this detour was another waste of time. None of the posturing, whip-wielding, leather-clad clientele triggered a response. Disappointed, he opted for a stiff drink instead of the rough sex he had in mind right then. At the bar, he slid onto an empty stool and waited for someone to take his order.
“What can I get you?”
The husky voice belonged to a blue-eyed looker with a full head of unruly copper curls. He had a light dusting of freckles on his nose, and his teeth gleamed under the track lights, a big plus in Scott’s eyes.
“I’ll have a Corona with a twist.”
“You got it.”
The bartender pulled a bottle from the cooler underneath the bar, popped the cap, and stuck a twist of lime into the opening.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked after sliding over the drink.
“Are you on the menu?”
The guy laughed and shook his head. “Not while I’m on the job.”
Undeterred, Scott asked, “What’s your name?”
“Red.”
“Unimaginative but appropriate,” Scott remarked, softening the dig with a grin.
“True dat,” Red agreed. He wiped the counter in front of Scott and hesitated. “Are you good?”
Scott couldn’t resist the opening. “Not always. What time do you get off?”
The baby blues widened in surprise. “My shift ends in thirty minutes.”
“I can wait if you want.”
Scott noted the subtle shift in Red’s body language and was glad he’d thrown caution to the wind.
“I’d like that,” Red said decisively. “Stay right there.”
Music faded into the background as Scott picked up on the dominant vibe. Their eyes locked, and saliva pooled in his mouth, while a clear vision of being fucked against a wall bloomed like a vivid porno.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he rasped.
Another patron called for a refill and the intense connection was broken. Red straightened and pocketed the change someone else had left for him. “Raise your hand if you want seconds.”
“Sure thing.”
Red lingered a few seconds more before he moved away to help the other man.
Scott spent the next thirty minutes studying his prospective hookup. The guy had bartending down pat, moving effortlessly between customers. He wore cargo pants and a blue sleeveless T-shirt, which looked two sizes too small. It stretched across a well-formed torso, highlighting bulging upper arms and ropey forearms carpeted with reddish-blond curls. His shoulders had the same brown freckles dusting his nose. Scott wondered what other parts of Red’s anatomy were covered in pale dots.
Scott had always been attracted to darker-haired men with olive complexions and heavy-lidded eyes. Red’s milky white skin and bright hair were nowhere close to his ideal, but sharp contrasts or not, he was definitely interested. Red was about six feet tall, which suited Scott perfectly. He liked men close to him in height, and although Red was rangy rather than bulky, another one of Scott’s preferences, he had a commanding presence and a dancer’s natural grace. Red was also confidently sexy, flirting and joking with customers who lapped up the attention and showed their appreciation in an overflowing tip jar. The cargos hugged Red’s perfectly shaped ass, and the outline of handcuffs in Red’s back pocket sent a shiver of excitement directly to Scott’s groin.
Close to midnight, an older guy stepped behind the bar. He had to be the owner, judging by his proprietary demeanor. He patted Red on the back and wished him a good night. Looking in Scott’s direction, Red pointed to the exit.
Scott gave a brisk nod and followed him out the door. Anticipation was propelling him forward, and his overactive voice of reason, the cautious side of him that normally held most men at arm’s length until boundaries were firmly established, was nowhere in sight. Why waste time on preliminaries when he and Red had already sized each other up and come to the same conclusion? Tonight they were going to fuck.
There was only one lamppost in the parking lot, and Red was leaning against the base when Scott approached.
“Do you need a bed, or will your car work?” Red asked bluntly.
Scott’s reply was swallowed up in an aggressive kiss, which nullified all reason. Even if he wanted to get a room—instead of giving it up in the back seat of his car—there was no way to put the brakes on their mutual desire. His visceral reaction to Red couldn’t be interpreted as anything but consent. They explored each other’s mouths, wrestling for control with their tongues, but Red easily won the battle.
“I’ve been dying to do this for the last hour.” Red pushed back for a second to stare into Scott’s eyes.
“Kiss me again,” Scott urged, pressing closer so Red could resume the delicious foreplay.
Red sucked on Scott’s lower lip before slipp ing his tongue back into Scott’s mouth. Kissing a complete stranger wasn’t really Scott’s thing, but there was something so perfectly right about this encounter, he couldn’t find a good reason to stop. He ran his hands up and down Red’s back, grabbed handfuls of the guy’s firm ass, and finally slipped his hand into Red’s back pocket and pulled out the handcuffs.
“I want you to use these on me,” Scott said breathlessly, dangling the cuffs by a finger.
Red grinned. “You like it rough, baby?”
Scott croaked out a yes.
“Where’s your car?”
Scott pulled Red toward the dark gray BMW and unlocked the rear passenger door. They got into the vehicle and latched on to each other again, exchanging kisses while tugging at their clothes.
“Tell me what you like,” Red said.
“Whatever makes me scream.”
Red snickered, clearly delighted by Scott’s response. He helped with the top three buttons of Scott’s shirt until he seemed to grow impatient and pulled the fine fabric over Scott’s head in one slick move. He worked on the jeans next and gasped when they were down far enough to show Scott was commando.
“Will you look at that,” he said admiringly. “I’m one lucky motherfucker.”
Scott’s half smile was triumphant. “Glad you approve.”
Red dragged the 401s down Scott’s long legs and tossed them aside. He sat back and said, “Wow.”
Scott’s conservative side wanted to cover himself with his shirt, but his kinkier half soaked up the admiration.
Red licked his lips. “Are you going to let me have my way with you?”
“I want you to make me beg.”
“Hard limits?”
“None.”
“Damn… you’re perfect.”
“Let’s see if you are,” Scott challenged.
“Christ.” Red slipped the handcuffs through the door handle before raising Scott’s arms over his head and attaching the cool metal bracelets to his wrists.
“Are you comfortable?”
Scott’s erection bobbed enticingly. “What do you think?”
Red growled. “Ready to be my slut boy?”
“Yes.”
Red scraped his hands from Scott’s collarbone to his waist and back up again to rest on his nipples. He twisted them sharply, watching for a reaction.
“More,” Scott demanded huskily. “Hurt me.”
Red let out a surprised huff but gave the nipples another hard twist. “Like that, my beautiful pain slut?”
Scott’s eyes were closed, but he answered yes with a low moan.
Red shifted attention and buried his face in Scott’s expertly manscaped pubes. He caught the dewy drops sliding down his rigid cock with a flick of his tongue and hummed appreciatively. Scott lifted his hips in silent supplication, but Red wouldn’t be rushed. Holding Scott down, he nuzzled the tender skin underneath his balls and sucked his way to Scott’s inner thighs, leaving several red marks. Pain and pleasure coalesced into a bright spark when Red dug his nails into Scott’s thighs, spreading them ever wider.
“Please….”
“What, baby?”
“More.”
Red scooped up Scott’s lower half and set the quaking man down on his sturdy thighs so his ass was more accessible, then spanked him forcefully. When Scott didn’t protest, he followed it up with a series of open-handed slaps that trailed down to his thighs. After a few minutes of unrelenting punishment, he bent down and rubbed his cheek against the inflamed skin, sending Scott’s nerve endings into orbit.
Red lifted his gaze to check on Scott. “Doing okay?”
Scott was floating in a perfect space where nothing mattered but the next sensation. “Awesome.”
“Open your eyes,” Red commanded.
Scott fluttered his eyelids open to the sight of Red unzipping his pants and lowering them around his hips. It was too dark for a detailed inspection, but he was certain his hookup would meet every expectation. Red fished a condom out of his pocket and tore the foil wrapper with his teeth, informing Scott it was lubricated to lessen the sting. He would have managed, but Scott appreciated a man with forethought. After rolling on the condom, Red drove into Scott with a determined shove. Scott drew in a sharp breath and held on to the conflicting sensations with the intensity of an addict.
“Jesus,” Red exclaimed, shutting his eyes. “You’re tighter than hell.”
“I’m no virgin,” Scott assured him. It had been a while, though, and Red was definitely above average in girth. The discomfort was quickly masked by intense pleasure, the kind that tore through him like a bolt of lightning. He dug his heels into the soft leather for more leverage and met each enthusiastic stroke with an upward thrust. Goaded on by Scott’s demands for more, Red used him roughly, driving into him with fierce concentration while yanking on his hair with both hands, wrenching a sharp hiss out of Scott as he lay trapped underneath him.
“How’re you doing, slut boy?”
“All good,” Scott said, writhing when Red nudged his prostate.
Red kissed him savagely, tripping the internal switch that made Scott buck and thrash through his powerful orgasm. Squirts of cum coated his and Red’s chest as wave after wave of pure ecstasy pulsed through him. When Scott sank into stupefied bliss, Red pulled out and discarded the condom. He straddled Scott, and with a soft slap on his face, Red roused him out of his stupor.
“Open up, baby.”
Scott obeyed without question, took him deep, and worked throat muscles with unerring precision. Red let out a low growl while grabbing more handfuls of Scott’s hair.
“You’re perfect,” Red said, thrusting gently against Scott’s throat.
Encouraged, Scott continued, applying well-honed techniques. He wanted to make a lasting impression, and giving head was one of his specialties. Scott swallowed, and Red tightened his grasp, but the sharp pain only acted as an accelerant. Scott ran his tongue up and down the rigid shaft, nipping at the silky skin, took a hairless ball into his mouth and rolled it around playfully. He relaxed his jaw when Red began to thrust.
“I’m close,” Red warned.
Scott wasn’t surprised. The man had shown remarkable restraint, and it was high time he shot his load. He swallowed, creating even more tension around the distended cock, and each one of Red’s moans felt like a ringing endorsement on a job well done. Red released in a warm gush, and the sounds of pleasure accompanying each spurt were gratifying as hell. When it was over, Red kissed him, sharing the ejaculate still coating his tongue.
“Outstanding blowjob,” Red said, resting his head on Scott’s chest.
“Thank you,” Scott replied softly.
Red pulled off the key hanging on a chain around his neck and unlocked the cuffs, then rubbed each of Scott’s wrists to make sure the blood was circulating properly.
“You okay?” he asked again.
“More than okay,” Scott replied dreamily. “When can I see you again?”
“I’d love to hook up,” Red said. “You were incredible, so fucking responsive.”
“But?”
“I’m leaving town tomorrow.”
“Shit.”
“I know,” Red said regretfully. “I would have enjoyed getting to know you.” He sat up and reached for his clothes.
“Are you going far?” Scott asked, scrounging around for his jeans.
“Yeah.”
“You think you’ll be back in the area?”
“I doubt it.”
Scott kissed Red soundly on the lips. “Story of my life.”
He laughed ruefully.
As he drove farther and farther away from San Ramon, through the Caldecott Tunnel, and over the Bay Bridge, back in the familiar city he now called home, Scott wished he’d exchanged contact info with Red. He didn’t even know the man’s last name. Finding such a perfect fit wasn’t an everyday occurrence. He would have considered a long-distance relationship, but Red hadn’t offered.
Sighing dejectedly, Scott began the slow process of putting his fantasy life on hold. It would take several days to come down from this incredible high, but there would be a ton of work waiting to take his mind off the incongruous man who’d made such a lasting impression.
Chapter 2
SCOTT REMOVED his safety glasses and dropped his latex gloves into the trash bin. The placement of six titanium implants into his patient’s lower jaw had taken up his entire morning, and the successful surgery was a lucrative way to get back into the mind-set after being away for a month.
