Yield (Bay Area Professionals Book 5) Page 2

  “Doing without would have been worse,” he commented ruefully. “We learned to take it the minute it was offered.”

  “Are you in the military?”

  “Not anymore,” he said, sounding disappointed.

  “Aren’t you glad to be heading home?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. What about you?”

  “There isn’t much to tell,” I said vaguely. Revealing my vocation after what just happened was impossible. “I’d rather not talk about me.”

  “Are you married?”

  My eyes widened in shock. “Absolutely not.”

  “What about work?” he probed. “Will anyone in the Bay Area miss you if you show up a day or two late?”

  “No.”

  “Would you consider getting off in Chicago for a few days?”

  “To what end?”

  “R and R.”

  Dear Lord. If this was a test, Sami’s unexpected question had pushed me to the edge of a precipice. Once I got off the plane, there would be no turning back, and my fall from grace would be nothing short of spectacular.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I haven’t thought of much beyond fucking you into the mattress for the next few days.”

  His comment sent a fresh wave of desire throughout my body, and I closed my eyes to avoid his scrutiny. When I opened them again, he was smiling.

  “Why me?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone deserves a few days of mindless sex.”

  “The thing is,” I began, searching for the right words. “I’m not a man of the world. You could do better.”

  “I disagree,” Sami countered. “Your inexperience is a huge turn-on.”

  “We barely know each other.”

  “By the time we’re done, there won’t be any mysteries left to unfold. Are you game?”

  At the retreat, I’d asked for some sign to guide me in the right direction. Placing forbidden fruit directly in my path couldn’t have been some random event. It had to be part of a larger plan. Best-case scenario, I’d get these cravings out of my system, seek absolution, and move on with my old life. Or the more likely outcome would have me abandoning the priesthood and leaving the high expectations behind. I’d discover the man I was meant to be before I’d been adopted and sanitized.

  I took the plunge. “Why the hell not.”

  “Atta boy,” he said softly. “You won’t regret it.”

  Chapter 2

  Three months later…

  San Francisco, California

  I struggled with the tiny buttons—thirty-three in all—symbolizing the number of years Jesus walked the earth. The speed at which I managed this mundane but tedious task was a good barometer of my state of mind. So far, it was taking me twice as long. Beads of sweat collected at my hairline, turning the pale blond into a darker shade of ash. I dabbed at my forehead with the washcloth I kept within reach.

  The cilice belt dug into my bare skin, drawing a sharp hiss and, I assumed from past experience, tiny pinpricks of blood, which would stain my undergarments. No matter. The heavy black cassock would cover up the horror going on underneath. If I could get through the next two hours without falling apart, I’d return to my room and spend the rest of the day in contemplation. For the moment, I had to power through. After slipping the last button through the hole, I reached for my stole and draped it about my neck. The silk scarf, worn during Mass or when administering sacraments, was always accompanied by a prayer. One which begged God to give me the garment of immortality forfeited by our sinful first parents. I skipped the prayer today, horrified by the idea of living forever. A man beyond redemption didn’t deserve the honor, not now or evermore.

  I descended the wooden stairs to the foyer of the rectory. They creaked, not due to my weight, which was within normal limits, but because they needed to be replaced. Like everything else in the old building, they were termite-ridden and had fallen into disrepair.

  Head lowered, I shuffled down a long hallway, where I could slip through a hidden door into the peaceful confines of the church. Parishioners waited in line to seek forgiveness for their sins with absolute faith in my capacity as God’s representative. I felt like an imposter.

  The door leading into the ornately carved oak confessional squeaked upon opening. This relic of a bygone era continued to serve a purpose but needed to be refurbished. I made a mental note to bring some WD40 later in the day to spray the hinges.

  The metal teeth circling my waist bit in deeper as I sank down on the narrow wooden bench. The sharp pain a constant reminder of my status. I was unworthy to be in the confessional, let alone administer absolution. After several minutes, and a few calming breaths, I made the sign of the cross and murmured the necessary prayers before commencing the sacred ritual of reconciliation. I slid back the wooden panel and stared into the woven screen barely disguising the person on the other side. My stomach lurched at the familiar face.

  “Good morning, Jay.”

  I shut my eyes.

  Which did no good.

  The man who’d upended my life wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily.

  In a commanding tone, Sami said, “Look at me.”

  My eyelids fluttered open and I grimaced at the undiluted rage twisting Sami’s features into a horrible mask. How far was he willing to go? I’d done the unthinkable by withholding information, and refused to accept responsibility when it was finally revealed. He’d trusted me and I’d proved him wrong.

  I ducked my head in a futile attempt to hide.

  “I. Said. Look. At. Me.”

  Gooseflesh rippled across my arms and up the side of my neck. I crossed my legs to keep the rest of my traitorous body from responding. When I raised my chin, Sami’s triumphant smirk scared the hell out of me.

  “You’ll come to me tonight.”

  “No.”

  “You know you want it.”

  “This has to…stop.”

  “Probably should have thought of that before we started.”

  “I answer to a higher power.”

  “God has no use for the likes of you,” Sami snarled. “Shit-can the pious attitude.”

  I hesitated a second too long, and Sami’s fist shot through the woven cane, a flimsy barrier incapable of withstanding any kind of pressure much less one of this magnitude. Steely fingers collared my throat, and I felt my pulse beating against his thumb.

  “Admit it, Jay. Your life is meaningless without me.”

  I bit back my useless protest. Sami was right. There weren’t enough floggers in the world to beat out this craving. I yielded to this irrefutable truth. “Nothing has been the same since Chicago.”

  “Roger that,” Sami purred. “Be at my place by midnight.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “You’ll obey or suffer the consequences.”

  I swallowed down the horrible urge to puke the remains of my spartan breakfast. “Yes, sir.”

  Sami vanished without saying another word. The hollow sound of footsteps on the cold marble floor did nothing to reassure me. The man’s powerful presence continued to linger like day-old sex.

  My rosary lay in pieces by my feet; the desiccated olive seeds, which served as prayer counters, were evidence of my failure. I lowered my head in shame. Resistance was futile. There was no point in praying either. No one was listening. I’d been through this scenario enough times to know God only helped those who helped themselves. There were no rehab facilities for masochistic pleasure seekers. Certainly none I could enter without being banished from the only world I knew. Before the antique clock in the rectory chimed eleven thirty, I would slip out a side door and walk the ten blocks to Sami’s apartment.

  Lights flashed against my shuttered eyelids as the frantic Uber driver, who’d responded to my ride request, traversed the San Francisco hills with dizzying speed. I lay sprawled on the back seat, barely able to talk through my bloody split lip. We were heading toward San Francisco General’s emergency room, and
I was already thinking about how to avoid involving the Mother House. I had my medical insurance card in my wallet, so there would be no need to figure out who would foot the bill. If I gave them an emergency contact before they asked, it would circumvent another crisis. The one person I could trust to keep my confidence was Rino Duran, a former seminarian I’d befriended not too long ago. Fortunately, I’d kept his name and number, and I prayed he’d be willing to help. At the very least, he could offer suggestions about where I could lie low until the outward signs of my altercation subsided. Even without a mirror, I knew there were multiple contusions. I was a mess inside and out.

  They gave me a shot for the pain, and by the time I lay on the examining table with my legs on stirrups, I was drifting in and out of consciousness. The doctor apologized when he inserted the cold instrument into my anus to get a closer look. He proceeded with the examination while delivering a running commentary to keep me in the loop.

  “I’m swabbing the soft tissue to get DNA samples, and then I’ll disinfect the area,” the doc informed. His words were barely audible as he moved in closer.

  “I’m not pressing charges so you shouldn’t bother.”

  “It’s required by law,” he murmured. “You may change your mind at a later date, and you won’t have a case without it.”

  I stopped fidgeting.

  “You have some minor anal tearing, but there’s no need for stitches. The area will be tender for a few days, especially when you have a bowel movement, but discomfort is the least of your problems. Whoever did this wasn’t wearing a condom so there’s every chance he might have infected you with an STD or worse, HIV. We won’t know until the test results are back. In the meantime, we’re giving you several shots as preventative therapy.”

  “How long before we know?”

  “It depends on the backlog at the lab,” he replied. “Speed won’t change the outcome.”

  “Maybe not, but it’ll ease my mind.”

  It was difficult getting the words past the raw ache in my throat. Flashbacks of the scene from hell resurfaced in vivid detail. I’d lost my shit after another verbal confrontation with Sami and impulsively headed toward a club instead of home. The creep who’d lured me into an alley forced me on my knees and threatened to gut me if I didn’t open wide. He shoved his cock down my throat and I was seconds away from suffocating before he pulled out and sprayed all over my face. The familiar smell of cum burned in my nostrils, as did the stench of stale booze, cigarettes, and body odor. They left me for dead after his buddy raped me, and in a sick way, I’m almost sorry I survived. It would have solved a lot of problems, but my stubborn soul refused to give up. God or fate or the man in the moon had more in store for me and wasn’t about to let me go without a fight. What those plans were, I couldn’t begin to guess. All I knew for sure was I had to get to a hospital before the cops found me and assumed control of the situation.

  The goose egg on my forehead throbbed, another reminder of my stupidity. My rapist had used the butt of his revolver to smack me when I struggled to get away. I suppose it was better than a bullet between my eyes, but then again, a swift death was more than I deserved. Acrid bile rose unbidden and a nurse hastily shoved a kidney-shaped plastic basin under my chin to catch the spew.

  The dreadful consequences of this latest act of stupidity might have lasting effects. A positive HIV status couldn’t be ignored like the rest. I’d have to report it to my superiors, thereby opening the door to a hundred questions which had no answers. A sharp sting sent more sedatives rushing through my veins, and I drifted off into oblivion.

  The next time I opened my eyes, Rino Duran was peering down at me. His big brown eyes brimming with concern.

  “How are you feeling?” Rino asked.

  I struggled to find the right words, hoping to sugarcoat this disaster, but in the end, I decided there was no point.

  “I’m sorry to impose on you this way, but when given a choice between a kind stranger and the Inquisition, I chose you.”

  “It’s okay,” Rino said. “What happened?”

  “Wrong guy, terrible night, shitty situation.”

  “Say no more,” he counseled. “According to the doc, you should be able to go home tomorrow.”

  “I’m not sure it’s good news.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know where home is anymore.”

  “Are things so bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s not talk about it right now, Father. You can stay at my apartment through your recovery.”

  “Call me Jay,” I rasped. “I’m not worthy of the honorific.”

  “Come on,” Rino said kindly. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  I turned away, unable to look at his earnest face any longer. I was surprised when his hand glided across my forearm, providing the human touch I badly needed to take away some of my feelings of worthlessness. He followed it up with more words of assurance.

  “There’s no judgment here, Jay. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  I bit my lower lip to keep from crying. Digging deep, I pushed away the self-pity and apologized once more. “I feel awful for imposing on you; we barely know each other.”

  “I’m glad you kept my number.”

  “What about your boyfriend?” Jay asked. “Won’t he mind?”

  “You remember I have a boyfriend?”

  “Our conversations gave me hope, Rino. I recall every word.”

  “I live with Ethan now,” Rino stated, “but I still have my apartment because the lease isn’t up for another month. You can stay there until you recover.”

  “It would give me time to figure out my next move.”

  “Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”

  “No. I’ll leave a message for my superior telling him I was unexpectedly called away due to a family emergency. Maybe I can squeeze two weeks out of this cover-up.”

  “You can accomplish a lot in fourteen days,” he agreed.

  My attending walked in just then and asked Rino to step out of the room to give us some privacy.

  Chapter 3

  Earlier in the day

  The flirty whistle announcing an incoming text sent a surge of blood to Rino’s cheeks and other less obvious body parts. He glanced at his phone and let out a whimper as he read Ethan’s message. U have 10 minutes.

  He threw the half-eaten sandwich back in the brown paper bag, recapped his bottle of raspberry tea, and stood to leave.

  “Done already?” Robin Kennedy asked, taking his eyes off his magazine. “You just got here.”

  “I…should…use the restroom,” Rino stammered. He knew he was acting like an idiot. No one could possibly know he was about to do something so far out of his comfort zone he thought he might pass out. Scott had his nose buried in his Kindle, and Lance was still working on an implant case down the hall. The only one who might notice his current meltdown was Robin, and he was the coolest guy in the practice.

  “Did you eat something disagreeable?” Robin asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Rino replied. “Will you excuse me?”

  “Of course.” Robin poked at the Cobb salad in front of him and was about to take a bite but stopped when Rino got ready to walk out. “Why not use ours?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t make the offer if it wasn’t okay.”

  “Thank you,” Rino said. It was definitely more convenient to use the en suite restroom in the docs’ private office. On the other hand, Robin and Scott would be on the opposite side of the oak partition while he was doing something so profoundly private it sent a fresh wave of anxiety throughout his system. Why in hell did he agree to this? Because Ethan ordered it, he reminded himself. Rino had to prove he could be the perfect submissive despite his strong moralistic streak.

  “You’re beet red, buddy,” Robin observed. “Are you cramping badly? Do you need a pill or something?”

  “I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Rino
said as he stepped into the bathroom, locked the door, and sat down on the toilet seat with a resigned groan. He texted.

  Me: docs on other side of door, don’t talk, just watch.

  Ethan: my pleasure, turn on FaceTime

  Me: hate you

  Ethan: no you don’t

  Me: kidding

  Ethan: say it

  Me: luv u

  Ethan: me 2

  He activated the FaceTime feature and called his Dom. Zeroing in on deep blue eyes sparkling in anticipation, Rino positioned the phone to give Ethan an unencumbered view. His scrubs had a convenient elastic waistband, and he pushed them down his legs in one fluid move. Ethan whistled in appreciation. If he was going to put on a show, he’d make damn sure Ethan enjoyed every second, and going commando was an inspired choice. He didn’t bother kicking off the scrubs but left them bunched at his ankles and spread his thighs apart. Ethan’s encouraging nod meant he was good to go and Rino began stroking.

  It didn’t take long to achieve a full erection, knowing Ethan was enjoying their orchestrated porno. Imagining his lover’s hand on him made Rino’s breath hitch, and he dipped his thumb in and around his foreskin, massaging the sensitive folds, using the liquid beading out of his slit for lube. He heard Ethan’s guttural moan, and when Rino looked into the camera, their eyes met and he came hard, trying his best to bite off the sound effects, a by-product of this pleasurable act. Fuck…they were getting good at this. He’d shot in under four minutes, breaking their last record.

  Ethan must have spurted into his hand a few seconds later, because he had his post-orgasmic look plastered on his face, which Rino soaked up gleefully, a tangible reminder of his Dom’s approval. Ethan blew him a kiss before he disconnected. A text came through a few seconds later.

  Ethan: you were so hot

  Me: my reward?

  Ethan: u choose

  Me: rim u?

  Ethan: perhaps

  Me: ^__^

  Dr. Ethan Marshal was a pro at dangling the proverbial carrot, and with a smile on his face, Rino set about the tedious business of cleaning up his mess. Jerking off on command was part of his training, but he was too new at this gig to be nonchalant about an act he’d considered sinful for years. He’d made great strides in twelve weeks, but there were many little things other submissive men did naturally, which made him pause. He couldn’t wait for the day this internal struggle would cease.