Second Chances Are

By Lee Brazil

Excerpt
Into my bar, at ten o'clock on a Saturday night strolled a man I'd thought I never would see again. I sat up a little straighter and my hand clenched so tight around my snifter of whiskey I was surprised it wasn't immediately crushed. There was no mistaking the miserable bastard.
If I hadn't recognized the fine black hair, straight and newly streaked with silver at the temples, if the blue eyes hadn't pierced my soul to the quick in a brutal assault, if the tall lanky figure weren't so very familiar, I'd still have known him.
Because my body recognized him. My heart raced, my blood heated, and the dick that had been completely un-swayed by Rory's charm the other day hammered against the zip of my jeans in immediate demand.
His gaze swept the room and a silent hush seemed to follow in its wake. Blue eyes settled on me, and he strode confidently forward. I remembered every tiny detail of his face: thin aquiline nose, narrow lips, tight jaw. When his eyes met mine they heated and sparkled and I fought to stay still, to stay on my stool. Leaping up and running forward to embrace my ex wasn't going to happen.
He stopped at Rory's stool next to me, and I shouldn't have been surprised when his hand fell on my thigh. I was proud of the fact that I neither jumped nor flinched when a thin fingered hand squeezed my thigh through my jeans. I didn't have the strength to push him away—never that, but I didn't react the way he thought I would, and I marked that up as a point in favor of my having learned at least some of the harsh lessons this guy had taught me.
The heat of his touch disturbed me; the equilibrium his very appearance had thrown off balance spun out of control. I heaved a deep, relieved breath when he broke eye contact with me and turned to Gerry. "I'll take a scotch on the rocks."
Gerry nodded, and I could see the curiosity in his youthful face, but I didn't have the wherewithal to explain. Instead I gathered enough of my inner reserves to speak. "Cannon. Long time."
He sat on the stool and smiled at me. "I’m divorced. And out. Told my family. Hazel was justifiably upset, hence the divorce. Craig didn't give a shit; he still hates me and probably always will. Seth... Seth wants to meet you."
That last bit caught me taking a steadying sip from my glass and ended with me choking on it. "What?"
He ignored my question while I took another fortifying drink. "Told my bosses. Turns out as long as I'm not flirting with the patients on the operating table, they don't care. Or can't legally care, which amounts to the same thing in the long run."
"Cannon..." What the fuck?
"Those were the things you asked of me, Aaron. You said when I was single and out to come and find you. Here I am." He stared at me expectantly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Brazil
• Release date: Aug 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301287994

Lee Brazil

Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it’s nevertheless one hundred percent true.Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don’t belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don’t fit?Then turn the page and see... there you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are...beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now, it’s why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it’s why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.If I’d had my way, I’d have been a fencer...or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and that’s the best thing in the world to be if you ask me, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.If I hadn’t learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college...teaching...or writing.

Book preview

Pulp Friction Presents

Second Chances Are

Chances Are #2

By

Lee Brazil

Copyright March 2013 by Lee Brazil

Smashwords Edition

Acknowledgement

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. As such, any resemblance to any persons, living or deceased, businesses, events, or locales is coincidental.

Cover Art by Laura Harner

Editing By Olivia Ventura

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Dedicated to my fellow Pulp Friction writers, Havan, Laura and Tom, who keep writing interesting with new challenges.

Second Chances Are

Part One

The smooth dildo slid easily in and out of Rory's stretched hole. He whimpered a little, but held himself as perfectly still as I'd told him. His golden head lay on a pillow, his hands rested in the small of his back bound with a flimsy piece of string. It was just a visual effect though, an illusion of bondage and control. I didn't need to tie Rory up to get him to stay still.

He could have broken it easily enough if he wanted to, but for Rory, this thing between us was all about proving he could be what I wanted. If I said jump, he didn't bother asking how high, he just jumped. If I said stay still and don't make a sound or the guys downstairs will know what you're doing, then he did exactly that.

The problem with his obedience was that no matter how willing he was to let me do what I wanted to him, I fast came to realize he wasn't what I wanted.

This whole fling began when I was raw from a hurt I hadn't expected; when my asshole bartender, Jerry, tried to steal from me. I thought I saw something in Rory then to fill the gaping raw hole another man left in my heart a long time ago, but the wound still festered. It just happened that my eye landed on Rory when I felt vulnerable, and I sensed in him a match for my kink.

But he wasn’t the kind of guy I could call when the chips were down and I needed help. He’d help; I'm pretty damn sure Rory would have hacked his dick off and handed it to me if I told him to. No, Rory needed me, but I just wanted him.

I need to eat. I want to eat steak. Two different damn things. And while I'd done my best over the last two months to show Rory that, I felt pretty sure he didn't get it. While he was food for me, I had the impression I was his steak, and I needed to figure out what to do about the differences in how we viewed our relationship.

Who was he? Moist plump lips parted and the words hung on the air between us. The slicked cock slid through the stretched ring again and again, Rory trembled and his teeth sank into his plump lower lip to hold back the cry of pleasure I could practically see vibrating through him. His body clenched and his eyelids slid to half mast.

Who was who? I slipped a hand under his raised body to grasp his cock. He arched, thrusting it through my circled grip, and I squeezed him tightly. He stilled instantly.

I knew who he meant of course. The day