Chances Are Read online



  Pulp Friction Presents

  Chances Are

  Chances Are #1

  By

  Lee Brazil

  Copyright 2013 by Lee Brazil

  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 Jason Bradley

  Copyright 2013 by Lee Brazil

  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 Laura Harner who had the brilliant idea that inspired me to try something new. You're a fabulous friend and an even better writer.

  To Tom Webb for all the encouragement and sprints that got us through this.

  To Havan Fellows for always being there for me...sounding board, coach, critique partner, jump starter...there's no end of the things you do for me!

  Chances Are

  It was as far as he could go.

  Green eyes. I kept my own eyes slitted just barely open to allow me to look down at the guy on his knees in front of me so I could remember his eyes were green, not blue. I needed to know the hair coiling around my fingers like silk was blond not black, that the lips clamped around my dick were full, lush and red, not a narrow slash of pink.

  If I closed my eyes, the golden tan would fade to pale white skin, the round jaw turn to carved marble, and it would be him, Dr. Cannon Malloy, on his knees, the hot inexperienced fumbling of his tongue turning me on so much that I orgasm in seconds.

  Can't have that. No, it was better to keep in mind that the lush heat surrounding me was the new guy, the rookie. He was a good looking kid, and this was his first night at my place, the Chances Are bar. Doesn't matter. I had a thing for uniforms, and a thing for blonds. The uniform thing was probably because in my old life I used to wear one. That life ended the same night I met Cannon, the night I got shot. The blond thing I also owed to Cannon.

  And fuck him for being there in the backroom of my bar with me while this rookie with shining green eyes sucked me off. The metal tongue stud, definitely not uniform regulation when I was on the force, took me by surprise when it slapped against the tip of my cock, causing me to jerk. The rookie grunted in satisfaction. He had my full attention now. Not because he was gorgeous, but of course he was. He was tall and golden and young. The dark blue uniform suited his golden beauty. Not that he wore more than the pants, but my imagination supplied the rest easily enough. He was really good at this and the metal tracing the veins of my cock while wet heat caressed my length was effective. My cock bumped the back of his throat and he swallowed. My fingers clenched in his hair, pulling sharply. He enjoyed it; I could see the spark in his eye as he doubled his efforts to make me come. Before long I grunted, he swallowed, and I pushed him away.

  "Jesus! Don't you even think?" We'd only just met, he couldn't be that stupid.

  He wiped his lips. Standing, he loomed over me just a bit, but I wasn't intimidated. For the first time I noticed that he wasn't even unzipped. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  "Shouldn't I have?" He smiled at me, reaching into his back pocket. "You're clean, aren't you?"

  I shook my head. I don't know what he planned, but I wasn't into anal anymore. Once, but then again, that's something else I owed to Cannon. Bastard. "You can't take a guy's word for that, rookie." He couldn't be that naïve. A lot of things I don't do I owe to Cannon, and virgins was one of them, relationships was another. This rookie was too trusting, too naïve. I started to think he was newer at this than that talented tongue indicated.

  He crowded me into the desk, and I started to get a little pissed. I pushed him away and he backed up, hands raised. "I'm sorry. I wasn't doing anything. Here."

  He handed the condom to me, but I didn't want it. I didn't fuck, or get fucked, not any more. Anything but that. I stepped into him and he retreated automatically. Don't know what he saw in my face, but it didn't seem to please him. He bumped into the cabinet where I kept the files. It was as far as he could go, and right now it wasn't far enough. I had a feeling that this rookie was bad news. I had all sorts of déjà vu feelings, and I just wanted him out of my office as soon as possible. But I was a decent guy, whatever some people might say, and fair's fair. So, I needed to get him off, and then get him out.

  I reached for his zipper and his hand closed over mine in a crushing grip. He pried my hand up and dropped a business card into it. Not a condom. I looked at it. He closed my fingers, one by one, around the card and stared at me defiantly. "What's this?" I sounded like an idiot, but he wasn't following the script, the plan.

  "I—"

  Heavy thumping on the door let me know my time was up. Gerry was outside the door, ready to leave. His shift was over, and he always took the deposit in for me on Wednesdays. The bank was just across the street, and he caught the bus on the corner.

  A strange expression on the rookie's face made me stare at him as I fastened my button fly. I kept one eye on him as I opened the door and gathered the deposit bag. It wasn't a lot of money. Wednesday wasn't busy, never was.

  "I have to go. Gerry leaves now. Sorry to leave you hanging." I had to get behind the bar. We do a steady business with the cops and the neighborhood people, and even though it was ten o'clock, I had four more hours until closing.

  "Call me." His voice was husky and I fancied I heard just the slightest clink of that metal stud clicking against his teeth.

  He wasn't the first visitor to my office, not the first face I'd stared at, trying to forget the one that was burned into my retinas, but he was different. I might have to get his name. Shit. I don't think I even gave him my name.

  "I'm Chance, this is my place. You want me; this is where you can find me." I won't call. Been there, done that. Got the emotionally stunted psyche to prove it. I shoved him out the door ahead of me and let it close on our little interlude with a sensation akin to gratitude.