Carson's Story
By Blak Rayne
‘One man’s love is another man’s strength.’
A twenty-year veteran of the police force,
Carson Mackenzie has worked hard to carve his niche in a demanding environment
where stress is the operative word. Thanks to his occupation, he’s never relied
on anyone, not even his husband Stephen until he’s involved in a severe car
accident while on duty one night. His recovery isn’t smooth; reoccurring
nightmares of the crash play havoc with his mental health and he starts to
experience a new kind of stress—something he’s never dealt with, anxiety.
Adding to his problems, Dudley Kramer
corners him in a restaurant, a shady art dealer who almost ruined his marriage
and career once before. Arrogant and self-serving, Dudley wants sex and he’ll
do whatever it takes. Too ashamed to ask for help, he tries to handle the
situation alone but quickly discovers the art dealer won’t take no for an
answer.
Rapping a knuckle on the office door, I poked my head inside the
room. “Can I come in?”
He removed a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses that made him look
like a professor, folded his arms and placed them atop a magazine on the desk.
“Of course, hon.”
Moving the other chair from the corner, I sat in front of him and
bent forward, elbows on my knees. “It won’t take long.”
“That’s fine, I was only reading the financial column.” He rubbed
his face and leaned back with a yawn, tilting the chair. “The economy’s going
for a shitter, so it was boring as hell. What’s up?”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“I don’t know if I can handle all this honesty—I almost miss the
old, stoic you.” He chuckled, then after a moment exhaled a sigh. “I was only
teasing, hon, go ahead.”
“I’m sorry. It hasn’t been easy for me either. I’m not used to
discussing work…never wanted to bring it home.”
“Gotcha. Don’t worry.” He reached over and gave my shoulder a gentle
smack. “Start talking.”
“It’s about Dudley…he’s been accused of more serious crimes.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, studying my overall expression. “I can’t get
a read off you this time. What type of crimes are you talking about?”
“Illegal drugs and rape. Several men lodged complaints. Each had
been given a date-rape drug and was sexually assaulted in the art gallery…under
the guise of art showings.”
Stephen rested his head on a tight fist and searched my eyes. “Those
are pretty serious accusations—not that I’m surprised. The guy was kind of
strange in college.”
“When you first introduced him to me, you said he was an okay guy…?”
“No, hon,” he contradicted politely. “What I’d actually said was
he’d never done anything wrong in college that I knew of. Anyway, what does all
this have to do with you?”
“Not long ago, Staff Sergeant Leland asked me to participate in an
entrapment case against Dudley—”
“Because we’d experienced a similar incident at the art gallery, and
because Dudley is attracted to you, you’d be the perfect bait.”
I wasn’t surprised he understood; Stephen is highly intelligent.
“Yes,” I replied quietly, squeezing my hands together. “That’s why I’ve been
out of sorts. It caused a lot of added stress.”
“Undue stress. Well, I trust you told Leland to blow it out his
ass.”
“After what happened at the grocery store, yes.”
He rubbed a finger on his lower lip and said with mild indifference,
“What goes around comes around and Dudley the Asshole Kramer will get his. But,
at least not through you.”
“No thanks, I’ve had my fill.”
Rising from the chair, he stretched. “I’m heading to work.” And
brushed past me.
“That’s it…?” I followed him so closely I nearly tripped in to him.
“Not that, Stephen. I’ve got a shift myself.” I gestured back to the
office. “I just poured my heart out, and no kiss. Surely that qualified as a
kiss moment.”
Stephen spun around, grabbed my shirt and yanked me close, his
intense gaze searching mine until my cheeks got hot. “Right, well, maybe you
need more than a kiss,” he insisted brazenly and my stomach fluttered. “Maybe
you need sex.”
I wanted to say yes, shout it out, and then I finally found a little
courage and said meekly, “Maybe I do.”
He paused with his mouth an inch from mine; his brows furrowed. “Are
you teasing me?”
“No.” I swallowed and my pulse rose with the anticipation.
“I’ve got fifteen minutes before I have to leave.”
He gave me a kiss and grinned. “Oh, I could definitely rock your
world in fifteen minutes, trust me, Mr. Stud Muffin Cop.”
My cock stood at attention as he dragged me to the other end of the
house, pushed me onto our bed, kicked the door shut and loosened his tie.
