“That’s not an Irish coffee though.”
Jesse laughed again, a real laugh, not a fake—tell me your story—bartender laugh. His handsome face smoothed out and I was given a glimpse of just how young Jesse actually was. Such a handsome young man, I wondered what his story was.
“I know that, and you know that,” Jesse said. “But the general public doesn’t. I serve what the people want, not necessarily what they ask for. That’s my job.”
I nodded sympathetically. We both worked in the service industry, him and me. I definitely understood trying to give the customer what they wanted, even if they weren’t asking for it correctly. That was a real thing.
“Are you grinding the beans fresh?” Beck sounded impressed.
“Hell yes, Beck. Not too many people order coffee, I’m not going to keep a pot on for hours with no one drinking it. By the time someone does order a cup, it’s gross. I’m not serving that.” Jesse scooped a few spoonfuls of beans into the grinder and pushed the button, the machine made a tiny whirring sound for a few seconds and then he was done. “That’s why I have a one cup pot back here,” he continued. “If someone wants to order a cup of coffee, I’ll give them something good. Chances are they are either designated driver or trying to sober up.
“Jesse, looks pretty good, I think I’ll have one of those, too.” Beck was eyeing what Jesse was doing with interest, forefinger and thumb on his large square chin, rubbing thoughtfully.
“I only got one problem,” Jesse said with a slight grimace. “I’ve got the brown sugar, but I don’t have any heavy cream to use. All I’ve got is a can of the spray whip. It’s not authentic, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”
“Any port in a storm, Jesse, I just appreciate the effort,” I said, and I meant it, too. I was having a really good time. I had gone to this bar to take refuge from the prying eyes of Richard and Cindy as I made my walk of shame from Affini’s. What I found was an impromptu conversation in a helluva sexy man sitting to my left, that I had no idea would be there when I left the house this evening.
With an almost embarrassed spray of the ready whip can, Jesse set two steaming hot mugs in front of Beck and me, eyebrows raised, waiting for us to take our first sip.
“I’ve never had an Irish coffee,” Beck murmured as he looked at the steam rising from the mug in front of him. It was a bar coffee cup, small, maybe eight to ten ounces, and it looked like a toy teacup cradled in his large bear paws. Grasping my own cup in my hands, I smiled, closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the fresh brew with the warm woody tang of whiskey wafting through the cream.
“It’s sweetened with brown sugar,” Jesse made idle conversation as he wiped up the bar. There weren’t too many people in the bar at this time. I didn’t look at the clock, but I was sure I’d been there for a little while. I could hear the bustle of people sitting at tables behind me and the odd clack of the cue ball as someone started a new game of pool. There was nobody else at the bar besides Beck and me though, so Jesse was free to engage in conversation. It felt like a friendly little get-together, Beck, Jesse and me. They clearly knew each other, but I was a stranger. I was having fun though, and I didn’t feel like a stranger.
Jesse continued, “I sweetened the coffee mixture with a little brown sugar. The whiskey is added after the sugar, and the entire thing is meant to be drunk through a layer of heavy cream. The best way to make it is to use heavy cream that’s only been whipped about half way, that way it’s still semi-liquid and you get a little of every flavor in every sip. I really shouldn’t have used the spray whip, but it’s all I had.”
“I’ll drink it as it is, Jesse, and be glad for it,” I said. The first sip was a warm welcome, just the right touch of burn sliding down my throat and warming my insides. I closed my eyes and took another sip, letting it linger in my mouth a little before swallowing.
Mmm, that was good.
I open my eyes again to find that Jesse had moved back down to clean the other end of the bar, and Beck was staring at me quietly yet intensely. “What, do I have something on my face?”
“Actually, you do. But that isn’t why I was looking at you. You looked so angry when you were checking your phone earlier, but just now when you were taking a drink, you looked so peaceful. Like everything was exactly how you wanted it to be.” He reached out with a napkin and dabbed the end of my nose with a smirk. Apparently, I was a complete toddler and couldn’t take a drink without getting the whipped cream on the end of my nose. I laughed, the whole situation was funny. I had been angry earlier, but it was the kind of angry that you usually don’t show to strangers, and I was a little bit embarrassed that this new friend had seen that part of me. No, that it had been his first impression.
“You know, I’m not usually an angry person. I like to think I’m a pretty even-keeled individual, but I’ve had some things go down lately. I’m a grown ass woman, so I’ll be okay, but some things just aren’t forgivable, you know?” He looked like he did know, and even though he still had a smile on his face, the look in his eyes spoke of experience. For some reason, I wanted to say all of it, all of the things that were hurting me; all of the things I kept inside. I wanted to tell this stranger in the bar everything that was on my mind.
He must have read my mind, because he said, “Do you want to tell me about it? I’m not just saying that either, sometimes it helps to tell somebody who’s not directly involved. I’m just a guy in a bar with no bias.”
So I did. I told him about my job, about what I did for a living, not once did he show any surprise in hearing about a woman that sold sex toys for a living. His facial expression didn’t even change when I told him about Richard and Cindy, about how I had introduced the two of them, essentially got him a job in my industry, and watched as my client took my boyfriend, and my dignity.
The incredible thing about telling my story to Beck was that he just listened. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t give his thoughts on what I was saying, and my favorite thing is that he showed no pity for my situation. That was the worst, the pity from friends and family when they heard what happened. I couldn’t say anything about my situation to anyone without them looking at me with those eyes of sadness, like, poor Regina, look at what she has to go through.
I didn’t need anybody to look at me that way; like I was pathetic, a child that needed consoling. He just waited silently, a second Irish coffee in his hand, or maybe a third, I lost count while I was talking. The more I drank, the more my insides warmed, and the more the words flowed out of my mouth.
He did laugh, though, when I told him about how I tossed Richard’s matchbox cars out the second story window into the grass. I imagine it was a funny scene. I was so pissed off at the time I couldn’t appreciate the humor.
“And that’s about it,” I said, setting my empty mug down on the bar. The whiskey was working its magic on me, my skin felt flushed and heated, and I had that light feeling of euphoria—the kind you got when you’ve had just enough to drink and not too much. “That just leads me to tonight, where I stopped to have my favorite dinner at my favorite restaurant only to have to eat it in front of those two when they came in for a date. I came over across the street to get the hell away from those two, and the rest is history. To tell you the truth, I’m really glad I came over here. I’ll tell you a little secret.” I leaned over conspiratorially to whisper my secret to Beck. “This is the best date that I’ve ever taken myself on. I’m showing myself an awesome time.”
Beck smiled again, and even though he was looking at me, the heat from his quiet gaze pulled me like the tide pulls the ocean. That dimple popped and disappeared. I wanted him to smile again, I wanted to make him laugh so I could see more of it.
“Do you know what that d-bag texted me earlier? While he was still out with…her.” I was doing a pretty good job of holding it together after what they did, but I still couldn’t bring myself to call her his girlfriend. No, that was what I had been, and no way was I lumping the two of us in
the same category. “He said, you looked beautiful tonight. Like, no shit, asshole, I know I look beautiful tonight. I dressed my damn self. I know I’m foxy. I even wore my good pushup. Look at these boobs—they are perfect, right? If they were any higher I’d be snorting cleavage.” I was proud of my joke.
Come on, Beck, give me a smile. Show me the goods.
But he didn’t smile. His eyes were serious while his full lips tightened and his nostrils flared.
Oh.
Oh.
I had thought I was making a joke, but I actually ended up accidentally making a pass, and even though, I swear to God, I hadn’t been doing it on purpose, that reaction from him had me biting back a quiet moan. He wanted me, and—Oh God—did I want him. To touch me, to kiss me, to throw me over his shoulder like a cave man. God! Anything. Please. Just something. Old Regina would have missed it altogether, but new Regina was paying very close attention. And new Regina wanted to see just how interested Mr. Beck was.
In as bold a move as ever I could muster, I placed my hand on the arm closest to me at the bar and squeezed gently. It was hard. He was a broad man, and every part was muscle, it seemed. His nostrils flared again, and he opened his mouth, probably to say something incredibly sexy in that low baritone voice of his, but all I heard was, “I let you guys talk as long as I could, but the last call was an hour ago, and I want to clean up and get the hell out of here. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here…or so the saying goes.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Cold water, Jesse, I thought. That’s some cold water you just threw on me.
Beck could feel it too, if the guilty look on his face was any indication. Snatching my hand from his arm like a kid caught sneaking candy from Grandma’s pantry, I pulled my phone up and looked at the time.
Holy shit, it was three in the morning. I hadn’t even scheduled my ride yet. Hasty apologies and goodbyes had Beck and I out the front door of the bar. Jesse was shaking his head and smiling, but I heard the lock click behind us as we left. Jesse wasn’t kidding about wanting to go home.
The late spring breeze wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was still chill enough on my whiskey warm skin to give me a shiver, and I stood awkwardly in front of Beck. The magic of the moment we had earlier was gone, and I wasn’t sure how to say goodbye. Do I shake his hand? Do I just wave as he walks away and I stand on the street corner waiting for the ride I hadn’t even had a chance to schedule yet?
“You aren’t driving, are you? His tone was a bit worried, which was hysterical, considering he had just as much to drink as I did. When you’re as big a guy as he is though, I imagine it takes more than a beer and a couple hot toddies to addle your senses. “I’d give you a ride, but I didn’t drive. I live super close, so I just walk to the bar. It’s safer normally, I don’t drink and drive.”
“Oh no, I would never.” I wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment of not driving under the influence. I loved a good buzz. However, I did not love incarceration, DUI, or the possibility of killing someone. I may have been new Regina, but I was still way too responsible for something like that. I poked at my phone a bit until I finished my task, “My chariot shall arrive in approximately . . . twenty minutes.” Twenty minutes? Ew, that was a bit longer than I wanted to wait on a street corner, in the dark, alone in the city at three in the morning.
“Twenty minutes? That’s too long. I’ll wait with you.” He looked down at me, a frown creasing his brow. I didn’t want to put him out by making him wait with me. As much as I enjoyed his company, I was not a damsel in distress. My ride was coming, I didn’t need to be rescued.
“You don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. I swear.” I crossed my arms over my chest to make myself seem more authoritative, and a bit braver than I felt standing on the corner under the light on the eerily empty road. Everything was closed and quiet, anyone left out and about in these wee hours was probably going to be up to no good. Or waiting for their ride, like me.
“It is three in the morning, and this isn’t the suburbs, holy hell, I will not leave you alone.” Beck’s tone carried underlining authority. “There are dangerous people around. There could be perverts. Hell, you don’t know, I could be a pervert!”
“Oh, I could not be that lucky, it’s not my birthday or anything.” The words were out of my mouth as soon as I thought them, and, oh my God, did he look intense. With his eyes narrowed and a firm line to his mouth, there was no dimple showing now. He stood up straight, impossibly tall, and with his shadow swallowing up space on the concrete, he took a step forward.
Then another.
Quietly he advanced, and I had no choice but to step back or he would catch me. Even though the thrill that shot up my spine made me think maybe that was exactly what I wanted to happen. He walked forward, dark eyes gleaming, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and I walked backward, out of the safety of the streetlight and into the shadows. I walked backward into the small strip beside the restaurant until my back met the cool brick wall of the tattoo shop next door. I couldn’t back up anymore, but he kept coming, closer, until the light of the street lamp didn’t illuminate him anymore. Until he was just a massive shape in the dark. Closer, until both arms braced against the wall on either side of my head. My eyes adjusted to the much dimmer lighting and his face came into focus again. Gone was the smiling face of the man I had been joking with earlier in the evening. This was the face of a predator. A welcomed predator. And I was soaked just thinking of the ways that he could take me down.
One hand came up, quick and deadly to circle my throat. Beck wasn’t putting any pressure on me, I could breathe, but he had me immobile just as if his hand were an iron shackle. My knees were weak with desire and I wanted to push him, to see what he would do if I resisted him. He’d intended to teach me a lesson, to show me that anyone can be an enemy. But I didn’t need him to teach me that. I’d learned that on my own. I had already been destroyed by someone I cared about. Not much scared me now. His hand closed gently on my throat and he leaned in close, so close that I couldn’t see his face anymore, and his lips almost touched my ear.
“Regina,” he whispered, and I swear I had never before in my life come close to having an orgasm from someone saying my name. “Regina, I could be a very dangerous man.”
His voice, so heavy with desire it seemed like the growling of a wild animal. If he didn’t take a bite out of me soon I was going to take a bite out of him. Old Regina and new Regina were in agreement on this one thing. We had to see what would happen next. Could he be dangerous? Would he be? I wanted to feel his body pushing mine into the brick of the building until I became a part of it. My skin buzzed with the energy of the space between our bodies—too much space. I wanted every part of him touching every part of me. How dangerous was he? I had to find out. Swallowing to gather courage, I felt his hand constrict my throat as I whispered, “Show me.”
If I had thought that he would kiss me then I was sadly mistaken, but not disappointed. One hand still lightly holding me to the wall by my throat, his other hand snaked under my short skirt and closed on my panties, ripping the cotton and lace with one quick tug. He did growl then, right into my ear, and the sound of his desire ripped a moan from my own throat.
He was still too far away, my nipples so tight they hurt, and if he would just come a little closer, and press his heavy body into mine, it might ease the pressure building inside of me.
“More,” I whispered into the side of his neck and against the hand that was pinning me to the wall. “Touch me more, push me further. Show me just how dangerous you are.” There was no room for embarrassment in our dark alley. After all, I would never see this man again. I shouldn’t have been teasing him, but he had just ripped my panties completely off my body without any hesitation and, damn it, that was a promise of a good time I was going to see he fulfilled. Beck still wasn’t close enough, and he still hadn’t kissed me. Reaching both hands out I grabbed fistfuls of his clothing and pulled hi
m close. One hand pulled his t-shirt free from his jeans and slid over the hard planes of his abdomen, the other down the rock hard bulge below. Oh my God, I wanted him inside of me. I pushed my palm against him firmly, mouth watering with the thought of taking him deep in my throat, my tongue already pushing against my teeth in anticipation. I was going to go crazy if I didn’t get to touch more of his skin.
Beck had other ideas, and a need to show me that he was still in control. With a grunt, he moved his hand away from my neck long enough to swat mine away from groping of his cock through his pants. I whimpered at the loss but managed to get another squeeze in before he grabbed both of my hands in one of his and raised my arms above my head, pressing them against the brick. Now the brick was chafing the skin of my hands as well as my bare ass and I was in love with the pain of it. In love with the excitement of being held down, of being just on the other side of the light, where anyone walking by could see what he was doing—what we were doing. I wanted to tell him to pin me down more, to push me harder, but any words disappeared in a gasp as his fingers entered me fast and hard. I was helpless to do anything but buck against him while I came apart in his hands, while the cotton and lace of my panties he still held in his hand rubbed against my skin.
I had never felt anything remotely as sensual as this in my entire life, and I had barely moved.
I was still coming down, still breathing heavy as he pulled the fingers that were inside of me out and to his mouth. I watched because he wanted me to, as his tongue swirled around his fingers, tasting me just as surely as if his face was where his hand had been. My knees gave out then, and the only reason I knew that he had let my arms go from over my head was that he caught me with both of his, and held me up gently until I had my composure.
“See, Regina? I told you I was dangerous.”
Hell, yes he was, and I enjoyed every second of it.
The Permanence of Pain Page 3
