required money…money that I could spend on my cat. Or myself.
Plus, I didn’t have any money until next payday anyway, a full week and three days away.
Booth’s motorcycle roared past me, and I grimaced as he took off, trying not to think about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a helmet.
Stupid man.
Getting in my Jeep, I drove to my parents’ house, but Booth haunted me the rest of the evening.
Fucking awesome.
Not.
Chapter 7
I bet she wears his shirt. But all I want to say is that’s the rag we used to use to wipe up the come he’d left inside of me.
-Masen to Mia
Booth
“My leg! It burns!” The man that we’d just pulled out of the car screamed.
The car in front of him had cut him off, and the guy had done all he could do, which was to run into a truck that was hauling hot asphalt.
The tailgate of the truck had burst open, and the hot asphalt had poured into the guy’s broken windshield, saturating him and the entire car.
We’d gotten him out within seconds, having witnessed the accident, but there was still quite a bit of damage.
“Alright man,” I said. “I’m going to cut your pants off.”
If the patient was awake and scared, it helped to talk them through what it was that you were doing. A lot of times having their mind on something else helped them.
So I explained exactly what I was doing…until I saw it .
My eyes widened when I saw what looked to be a melted dildo sticking to the guy’s leg.
“What…” I cleared my throat, looking to my partner for the day, Bowe. At the shake of his head, I looked back to the patient. “What is that, sir?”
I knew what it was.
He knew what it was.
The fucking people across the street knew what it was.
I just needed confirmation.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said through tears. “My wife…she made me.”
His wife…made him.
Interesting.
With nothing else to do, I moved past the dildo that was melted onto his leg and checked his pupils while Tai started an IV.
“Equal and reactive,” I said. “What’s the BP?”
“148/72,” Tai answered as he saw flash on the IV and inserted the catheter.
“Good,” I replied. “What’s your name, sir?”
I asked him his name for two reasons, first to see if he actually knew it, and secondly because I needed to know it for my reports.
“Dean Redmond,” he answered on a sob.
I winced.
It was never fun to see a grown man cry.
“What day is today?” I asked.
“Thursday the eighteenth,” he cried harder.
I nodded, even though his eyes were clenched tightly shut.
“Can you tell me where it hurts, Mr. Redmond?” I asked.
“Thigh,” he said, pointing to the melted dildo. “And….my….my….”
He didn’t finish, instead he just pointed at the side of his ass.
“Do you have burns on your backside?” I asked.
Then he all of a sudden started blurting out everything.
“She made me wear the dildo to the store, and usually it sits just right inside my…ummm…anus. But the jolt of the crash caused me to clench…and well,” he shrugged as best as the C-spine collar we had him in allowed.
“So there’s something else in your…butt,” I guessed.
He nodded, a tear slipping out of his clenched eye lid.
“What about anywhere else on your body? How’s your head feeling?” I asked, checking for circulation and pulses on his extremities.
“Everything feels okay,” he said. “My jeans did a pretty good job of protecting me from the brunt of the burning asphalt. But my face kind of hurts from where I hit my nose on the steering wheel.”
I checked out his nose.
He had a parallel cut on the bridge that was likely due to the force that he hit the steering wheel with, and I was just about to grab some four by four’s when a woman started screeching.
“Redmond!” The woman yelled, bringing all of our attention to her.
“That’s my master…errr…wife,” he informed me.
I turned only my head, surveying the woman that was
Plus, I didn’t have any money until next payday anyway, a full week and three days away.
Booth’s motorcycle roared past me, and I grimaced as he took off, trying not to think about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a helmet.
Stupid man.
Getting in my Jeep, I drove to my parents’ house, but Booth haunted me the rest of the evening.
Fucking awesome.
Not.
Chapter 7
I bet she wears his shirt. But all I want to say is that’s the rag we used to use to wipe up the come he’d left inside of me.
-Masen to Mia
Booth
“My leg! It burns!” The man that we’d just pulled out of the car screamed.
The car in front of him had cut him off, and the guy had done all he could do, which was to run into a truck that was hauling hot asphalt.
The tailgate of the truck had burst open, and the hot asphalt had poured into the guy’s broken windshield, saturating him and the entire car.
We’d gotten him out within seconds, having witnessed the accident, but there was still quite a bit of damage.
“Alright man,” I said. “I’m going to cut your pants off.”
If the patient was awake and scared, it helped to talk them through what it was that you were doing. A lot of times having their mind on something else helped them.
So I explained exactly what I was doing…until I saw it .
My eyes widened when I saw what looked to be a melted dildo sticking to the guy’s leg.
“What…” I cleared my throat, looking to my partner for the day, Bowe. At the shake of his head, I looked back to the patient. “What is that, sir?”
I knew what it was.
He knew what it was.
The fucking people across the street knew what it was.
I just needed confirmation.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said through tears. “My wife…she made me.”
His wife…made him.
Interesting.
With nothing else to do, I moved past the dildo that was melted onto his leg and checked his pupils while Tai started an IV.
“Equal and reactive,” I said. “What’s the BP?”
“148/72,” Tai answered as he saw flash on the IV and inserted the catheter.
“Good,” I replied. “What’s your name, sir?”
I asked him his name for two reasons, first to see if he actually knew it, and secondly because I needed to know it for my reports.
“Dean Redmond,” he answered on a sob.
I winced.
It was never fun to see a grown man cry.
“What day is today?” I asked.
“Thursday the eighteenth,” he cried harder.
I nodded, even though his eyes were clenched tightly shut.
“Can you tell me where it hurts, Mr. Redmond?” I asked.
“Thigh,” he said, pointing to the melted dildo. “And….my….my….”
He didn’t finish, instead he just pointed at the side of his ass.
“Do you have burns on your backside?” I asked.
Then he all of a sudden started blurting out everything.
“She made me wear the dildo to the store, and usually it sits just right inside my…ummm…anus. But the jolt of the crash caused me to clench…and well,” he shrugged as best as the C-spine collar we had him in allowed.
“So there’s something else in your…butt,” I guessed.
He nodded, a tear slipping out of his clenched eye lid.
“What about anywhere else on your body? How’s your head feeling?” I asked, checking for circulation and pulses on his extremities.
“Everything feels okay,” he said. “My jeans did a pretty good job of protecting me from the brunt of the burning asphalt. But my face kind of hurts from where I hit my nose on the steering wheel.”
I checked out his nose.
He had a parallel cut on the bridge that was likely due to the force that he hit the steering wheel with, and I was just about to grab some four by four’s when a woman started screeching.
“Redmond!” The woman yelled, bringing all of our attention to her.
“That’s my master…errr…wife,” he informed me.
I turned only my head, surveying the woman that was
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