Irish Cream
Authors: Trinity Marlow
By
Trinity Marlow
Copyright © 2012 by Trinity Marlow
Published by Brazen Snake Books
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Trinity Marlow.
Edited by Carol R. Ward
Brianna took a seat at the long, walnut-colored bar and looked around for the bartender. Aside from one table of ancient men playing poker in the corner and one rather lumpy looking large dude shooting pool, the place was empty. She checked the delicate silver watch Andrew had insisted she wear - one of the first things on her list to get rid of tomorrow. Was it really late enough for last call?
A white napkin slipped into her vision, topped efficiently with a highball glass of a creamy looking caramel liquid. On the rocks.
She grinned, reaching for the glass.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. What do you say when someone buys you a drink?”
Brianna looked up into the most beautiful chocolate-brown eyes she’d ever seen, thick-but-not-bushy eyebrows raised expectantly above them.
“Thank you,” she said, winking as she raised the glass to her lips. The smooth Irish cream was exactly what she’d needed after a night of awful champagne and even worse company. Things were definitely looking up.
“That will do for starters, I suppose."
His rich voice vibrated under her skin, and moisture slicked between her thighs as she crossed her legs. Raising one eyebrow, she made a show of looking him up and down, what she could see of him, anyway. The t-shirt did nothing to hide his sculpted torso, and her fingers itched to explore that particular playground. Where Andrew’s jaw was smooth and narrow, this guy’s face was all chiseled angles with a hard, square jaw. Normally she preferred long hair, but she could deal with the dark military buzz he was sporting. For one night, at least.
“Starters?” She leaned forward on the bar, using the loose top Andrew had picked out to full advantage. Finally free of the psychotic jerk, she may as well get one more thing from his clothes before she burned them all. “I’m dying to know what dessert will be.”
The bartender laughed, reaching out to trace a finger between her unfettered breasts. “Be a good girl tonight, darlin’, and maybe you’ll find out.”
His words were like cold water splashed in her face, and she sat up, leaning away from his touch. Her head told her she was being silly, that he hadn't meant anything, that it was just harmless flirting. But that didn't stop the rest of her from shivering as she tossed back the rest of her drink and reached for her purse.
"Stop."
She didn't want to obey, but he had that tone that she'd been trained not to ignore. Freezing in place with her hands braced on the bar, she shot him a scathing look as she waited obediently. As long as the bar was between them, she reasoned, things wouldn't get out of hand. If he came around, she'd run, consequences be damned.
He bent down to look in her eyes, the cool indifference she expected missing from his gaze. The warm concern was disconcerting, but she relaxed the tiniest bit when he nodded.
"I'm James," he said finally, holding out his right hand. Brianna slowly placed her palm against his, shocked at how comfortable the connection felt for a brief moment before he pulled away. "I just have one question before you go running off, if that's okay."
Off-balance, Brianna nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Who's the Dom I need to beat up for abusing you?"
Brianna gave a nervous little laugh, and dropped her gaze. What were the odds that the very next guy she ran into after escaping Andrew would be a Dom too? She needed to get out now if she didn't want to make the same mistake twice in one year, and considering how attractive James the Bartender was, it would be too easy. No more submissive play for her. Been there, barely escaped with a t-shirt. And a few scars to remember the bastard by.
She smiled brightly, looking James in the eye again. "Thanks, but no need to go all caveman. Sweet of you to offer, though. I really need to get going..."
He nodded, his gaze implying he knew more than he was letting on. "Let me give you this." He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a business card. "If you need anything, at any time, call me. No strings attached. Call Celia at the Wicked Whip. She'll vouch for me." He set the card on the bar, sliding it over to her side. Then he gave a brief nod, and went to the other end of the bar to wait on lumpy-pool-guy.
Brianna hesitated, then slipped the card in her purse. She didn't look back as she walked across the bar and let herself out into the darkness. How did James know Celia, she wondered. Had Celia told him about her?
The half-moon hung sideways, it's glow dimmed somewhat by the yellow streetlights as she walked. The small apartment she'd rented was just around the corner, in a nondescript neighborhood, and the key should be under a flower pot in the back yard. It had been difficult arranging everything, but Andrew had grown complacent in the past month or so, and Celia had helped. After tonight, Andrew wouldn't be welcome at the Whip anymore...or at most of the other clubs in town. He wasn't going to be happy.
She'd considered pressing charges, and Celia, also a practicing attorney, had offered to represent her, but she'd explained that a case like Brianna's was incredibly hard to win. All because consent was given in the beginning, and that's all a jury would remember. Well, that, and what they considered deviant behavior. Celia had advised her to get a new Master who would offer protection, but Brianna didn't want to 'belong' to anyone anymore. How could she trust another man after what Andrew had done?
Turning onto the right street, she got the new cell phone Celia had given her out to check the address. It would be the first night she'd spent on her own in six months, and she nearly cried when she thought of climbing into a soft bed with covers instead of laying down on scratchy straw with a threadbare blanket. There would be a shower too, and a refrigerator stocked with her favorite foods.
Heaven was a cheap, one-bedroom apartment, she thought with a smile.
She felt only a slight whisper behind her before a strong arm curled around her throat, and a hand clamped down hard over her mouth.
* * *
"Let her go. Now."
James curled his fingers into fists, barely restraining himself as he waited for Andrew to let Brianna go. Hopefully the other man would do the smart thing and leave without making a scene. But James was ready and willing to indulge him, if he needed more physical orders.
Andrew's arms lowered slowly, but he grabbed Brianna's wrist as she tried to move out of his reach.
"She belongs to me," he said, practically growling the words. "She gave consent. I own her."
James shook his head, reaching down to squeeze the smaller man's wrist until he released Brianna with a yelp.
"You know that's not how it works around here. From what I heard, she revoked her consent tonight. Our community doesn't condone slavery."
Andrew laughed, an ugly, sinister sound. "You and I both know what goes on behind closed doors. Don't ask, don't tell, right? I'm not giving her up. I'll go somewhere else if I have to, but she's coming with me."
James felt Brianna's hands on his back as she hid behind him. Now he knew why Celia had asked him to give his protection. Something would have to be done about Andrew. He was out of control.
"She's under my protection now," James said, aware that he needed to get Brianna out of there now, and somewhere safer than the apartment Celia had set up. "You touch her, and I'll kill you. That's a promise."
He reached back and held his hand out, knowing Brianna wanted to run from them both, but hoping her submissive instincts to accept the protection he offered would win. After a moment of hesitation, her cold palm slid against his, and he pulled her around and tucked her in close to his body.
Andrew sneered, fumbling to light a cigarette that he waved at Brianna. The way she cringed and tried to get closer told James all he needed to know. As if he needed more proof.
"I'll be back for you, Bri. Don't get too comfortable with this softie, because it's not going to last long." He flicked the offending item in her direction, and James reached out to deflect it before it could burn her skin.
"Enough," he said, turning to put himself between the two again. "We're leaving. I suggest you do the same. Don't stop until you're in another country." He tugged Brianna with him, feeling the tension in her shoulders as he held her close, not willing to release her yet in case Andrew still wanted to try something. When they got to his car, he opened the passenger door and helped her inside, then slid behind the wheel, keeping an eye on Andrew as he watched them drive away.
She was silent for the first few blocks, and when she finally spoke, his heart broke at how thin and scared her voice sounded.
"Thank you," she said, pausing a moment before adding, "Sir."
He frowned, pulling into his driveway and shutting the engine off before he turned to face her. "I'm not Sir to you," he said, wanting to make that clear. "I'm sorry if you got the impression I was taking liberties, but I needed Andrew to know you were no longer available to him. Do you understand that?"
She nodded, slowly, without looking at him. "Sorry. I'm...it hasn't--"
"It's okay," he said, wanting to touch her, give her comfort, but holding back. "Celia told me everything."
Brianna's cheeks heated at her rescuer's last words. "How much did Celia tell you?" she asked, trying to decide if she was angry, embarrassed or both. She could feel the tension in James' body as he sat beside her in the car, every bit the gentleman. But he was holding back, she knew. And she was surprised to realize she wanted to know what his touch would feel like...
"Enough so that I'd be able to protect you," he said, his voice sincere. "She knew Andrew would come after you, and the police can't do anything unless he hurts you. She didn't want that to happen, so she called me. I'm the hired muscle, so to speak."
She glanced up at that, catching a slight grin on his face in the dim glow of the light on his garage. Still wary, she nodded, then turned to look at the house. It wasn't a house so much as a mansion, really, and she wondered if it belonged to him, or if it was a club of some sort. It was beautiful with two balconies and a sprawling porch across the front, but imposing as well.
"This is your place?" She hated that her voice trembled, and willed herself to be stronger. If Celia trusted this guy, she knew he must be okay. Still, it was disconcerting to think that freedom and a hot shower had been just within her grasp only to be replaced with yet another shared living arrangement.