Excerpt: Fractured by Mickie B. Ashling

Excerpt

Lance felt like he was walking on the infamous cloud 9—the one that always showed up whenever he was infatuated. Trying to deny his feelings any longer was pointless. The moment Ro took his shoes off and then asked about recycling, his approval rating climbed up several notches. It didn’t hurt that the object of his affection looked like a younger version of Latino actor Esai Morales, who played Lt. Tony Rodriguez on NYPD Blue, one of Lance’s favorite shows.

Roque had lighter eyes, though, and looked more European than Aztec. He was positive there was Spanish nobility coursing through Ro’s lithe but muscular frame. Despite his humble background, Ro carried himself with quiet dignity, another immensely appealing trait. Lance was a sucker for confident men, especially if he could get them to exchange some of that power willingly. The vision of Roque kneeling at his feet, hands bound behind his back and a cock ring encircling what Lance could only imagine was a perfectly proportioned penis, made him groan in frustration. He could feel his own organ straining against his jeans, and he gave in to the moment, powering up his laptop. He jerked off to the image of a spanking scene, superimposing Ro’s face on the submissive he’d been virtually dating over the last few months.

Self-service wasn’t nearly as satisfying, but it took the edge off, and he could think rationally once it was out of the way. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was only eight o’clock in the evening. His favorite shrink would still be awake in New York City if he called right now. Giving in to impulse, he tapped in his number, which was stored in Favorites. Peter answered on the third ring.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, concern oozing through the connection.

“Not much,” Lance replied.

“FaceTime,” Peter ordered. “I do better when I can see you lying.”

“Shut up,” Lance said, laughing at his doctor’s insight. Nonetheless, he did as ordered and activated the iPhone feature. “Is that better?”

Peter harrumphed. “You must be in lust again.”

“Jesus, am I that obvious?”

“You’ve got that dumb grin on your face. Who is it this time?”

“Let’s just say I’m interested in someone. Nothing’s happened yet.”

“Then why are you calling?”

“Because I can.”

“I suppose you should get your money’s worth since I’m still on retainer.”

“Okay, enough with the jokes,” Lance said. “I’m attracted to one of my patients and scared to move forward.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Moral ethics aside?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m afraid of fucking this up.”

“Is he in active treatment?”

“The initial surgery is completed, but I’ll be doing sporadic checks until I can place his implants.”

“But in essence he’s done for now.”

“Yes.”

“Problem solved.”

“What if I scare him off with all my other stuff?”

“Lance, try and be rational. Your last breakup was two years ago, and it just wasn’t a good fit. That doesn’t mean you’re incapable of finding the right match. What does this guy do?”

Lance didn’t respond, prompting Peter to ask. “Did you hear my question?”

“He’s a landscaper,” Lance replied in a soft voice.

“Here we go again,” Peter grumbled. “Let me guess. He’s a dark-skinned brunet with a heavy accent, and thinking of him groveling at your feet and begging for release makes you hard.”

“Fuck you.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Partially.”

“Is he also illiterate like Manny?”

“As a matter of fact, he’s not,” Lance countered hotly. “He’s articulate and driven from what I’ve learned so far, and Manny wasn’t illiterate, you dumb ass! He didn’t speak English, that’s all.”

“Lance, you continue to act like a moron despite your IQ. Falling for guys who provide little or no mental stimulation will always result in failure. It doesn’t matter if the body chemistry is right. May I remind you that good looks are temporary but dumb is forever?”

“He’s not dumb!”

“So you’ve said.”

“Then why are you on my case?”

“You wouldn’t be calling if you were confident.”

“I wanted to give you an update, but you’d rather badger me into admitting I’m doing the wrong thing. Peter, I’m not leaping before looking this time. We’re taking baby steps. Hell, I don’t even know if this guy is into BDSM. This may be a moot point, and it’ll fizzle out after the first orgasm.”

“You mean that hasn’t happened yet?”

“I told you I’m taking it very slow.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Thank you,” Lance said begrudgingly. “Perhaps I’m not as moronic as you seem to think.”

Blurb:
Roque “Ro” Celdran dreams of a better life, far away from the hand-to-mouth existence of his migrant worker family. He moves to San Francisco to study Landscape Design but finds himself short of cash. Tony, Ro’s identical twin, comes up with a plan to help Ro make ends meet. The BDSM club Tony frequents is looking for gay men to act as submissives to the Dommes-in-training. Ro reluctantly takes the job and falls headfirst into a world he neither understands nor desires. 

Lance Roberts is the new doctor at the dental practice started by Scott Gregory and Robin Kennedy. On the surface, he seems to have it all: the Mensa IQ, blond and blue-eyed good looks, and the determination to make it in his competitive field. Underneath lies a frustrated Dom in search of the perfect sub who can handle his obsessive behavior and debilitating need for control. 

When Ro ends up in Lance’s dental chair, the last thing either one expects is a physical and mental connection. Ro’s attraction to “White Bread” never pans out, and Lance’s weakness for Latinos always leads to a dead end. Could this time be different? What happens between the two alphas leads to a lot of soul-searching and some surprising conclusions.