Irish Cream (6 page)

She turned her head away, refusing to look him in the eye. "No...of course not," she stuttered, but he could feel the lie as she trembled underneath him. "I'm just...not sure I can do this again. I'm sorry."

James struggled internally, wanting to reach for the bindings, but knowing he had to let her go. The decision to give herself to him, to accept his dominance and willingly submit to him was the most important choice she'd ever make - one she had to make freely if they ever hoped to have a solid, trusting relationship. If she couldn't meet him that far, keeping her with him was meaningless.

It took all of his strength, but he released her arms and got off the bed, retrieving a clean shirt from his closet. His back turned, he focused on getting dressed, all too aware of her eyes on him. When he was finished composing himself, he turned, keeping his expression flat and doing his best to ignore the hurt and anguish in those beautiful eyes.

"Get dressed, and get your things. It's safe now, so I'll arrange for someone to drive you to the apartment Celia set up for you earlier. I understand she set up a job and a bank account as well, so you'll have everything you need to start over on your own."

The tears he expected never came. She got up and gathered her clothes, pulling them on with automatic motions. He went to the door and opened it, turning back for one last look over his shoulder.

"So that's it then," she said, her voice quiet and calm. "You're just going to send me away?"

He hesitated, and then nodded once. "You've made your decision by default. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

* * *

Brianna held it together as she watched James walk out the door. She didn't cry when she went down the front steps and got into his car, and she even managed to smile when the driver let her out at the small house she hadn't actually seen the inside of that night.

Numb from everything that had happened, she went around back to the apartment door and retrieved the key from beneath the flower pot. She let herself in, locking the door behind her. Standing with her back to the door, she surveyed her new home. It was exactly as Celia had described it - a counter on the far wall that served as a small kitchen, a daybed to the right that doubled as a couch, and a door to the left that she assumed led to the facilities. Hooks on the wall were supposedly for her clothing, along with a small chest of drawers for unmentionables that would also serve as a table.

A far cry from the opulent rooms she'd had at James' house, to be sure. But here, no one was waiting to tell her what to do. No one would get her up if she slept in, no one would tell her when to eat, or what...

Eyeing the refrigerator, she put her purse and keys down on the table, and walked across the room to open the door. There wasn't as much as she’d imagined there would be, but she took the milk carton out and opened it, holding it in front of her nose. Grimacing at the sour smell, she dumped it out, and then went through the rest of the things, tossing most of them in the garbage. Apparently she wouldn't be eating in after all. But the thought of going out was mind-boggling, and she wasn't exactly sure just where the closest grocery was.

Opening the cupboards, she found a box of cereal and a bowl. It had been her favorite before she went to live with Drew, but he wouldn't allow cereal in the house. Too much sugar, too many carbs, he said. Feeling empowered by the ability to make the decision herself, she poured some into the bowl and sat on the daybed, eating it dry as she thought about what she should do next.

She would need a job. Not just any job, and not just for the money, though she did hope to find something that would pay for a better apartment soon. No, she wanted a job she could be happy going to every day, something where she could interact with people, rather than being stuck in a small cubicle. The thought was exhilarating, and it occurred to her that she'd been bored not working when she'd been with Drew. Being in a house all day, everyday, no matter how nice it was, just didn't keep her mind occupied. Drew never would have let her work though - she'd mentioned it once in passing, how it might be nice to get a hobby or maybe a part-time job, and he'd said that her only job was to please him, and she couldn't possibly do that if she was off doing other things.

Setting the bowl aside, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, wondering if James would say the same thing. Not that it mattered now anyway, but she supposed it made sense that someone who willingly agreed to be a slave should want to serve her master at all times. That should be enough for a good submissive, shouldn't it?

If only she could be that person for him. She wrapped her arms around her middle, remembering how it had felt to be held by him, wishing she could be happy losing herself in him. But even though she wanted desperately to be with him, she knew she'd made the right choice, at least for now.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she angrily brushed it away. No. She wouldn't cry over him. And she wasn't going to cry over who she was. James was in her past, just like Drew, and she was moving on with her life.

She got up and rinsed her bowl in the small bathroom sink. As she was carrying it back to the cupboard, a knock at the door startled her.

Only three people knew where her new apartment was, and with Drew tied up somewhere and James mad at her, that only left one possibility. Still, Brianna hesitated.

Whoever was on the other side knocked again. "Brianna, open up. It's Celia."

Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Brianna swung the door wide and smiled. Her grin fell quickly though when she noted the large male figure in shadow behind Celia.

"What's he doing here?"

Celia took her arm and pulled her into the room as James entered behind and locked the door.

"He called and told me you were here, to make sure the job and money I had for you were still available. And they are. But when he told me what happened, I decided we all should talk."

"She means she wants to lecture us both," James said, his sulking voice nearly drawing another smile from Brianna. "I think she's just crabby because of those broken fingers. Let her get it out, and we'll leave you alone."

Somehow, Brianna didn't think it was going to be that easy. But she was surprised to realize that she wasn't really upset either - it was more relief that she felt more than anything. And that realization scared her.

Taking a seat on the daybed, she made room for Celia beside her. James leaned against the wall, his wide shoulder and height making him look all the more imposing as he raised an eyebrow at her friend.

Celia sighed, then turned to take one of Brianna's hands in her good one.

"I'm going to tell you both something no one else knows about me, and you have to promise to keep it a secret." Brianna nodded, noting that James did the same.

"A long time ago, when I first started the club, I met a man - the only man I've ever felt submissive to. Back then, in our community what I was doing - acting as a dominant at the club, and a submissive in my personal life - was frowned on. I kept it a secret as long as I could, but my Dom eventually insisted that I submit to him whenever he came into the club, and I refused. People weren't as accepting back then, and "Switches" like me were generally not taken seriously in the community. It would have killed business if I'd done what he asked, and I just couldn't do it. The club was everything I'd ever wanted in life, and I didn't understand why he'd want to take that from me."

She paused, and Brianna gently squeezed her hand. While it wasn't quite the same as Celia's problem, the basic issue was her biggest fear as well - that as a submissive, she'd loose herself. It may be selfish, but she just didn't want to live her life that way.

"So what did he do?" she asked, leaning forward. "The Wicked Whip is still open, so..."

Celia nodded, letting go of Brianna's hands and laying back against the armrest. "I told him that I couldn't obey that one command. I'd already established myself as a Domme by then, and business was thriving. I wasn't going to jeopardize that, not even for him."

"So he left."

Both women looked up at James' matter-of-fact statement. He shrugged. "I would have done the same thing."

Brianna dropped her gaze. Celia's lover had basically asked her to give up her job, her life dream for him. And if James felt the same, he wouldn't want his submissive to work either. She looked back at Celia.

"So he didn't really love you," she said, surprised when the other women chuckled.

"Quite the contrary, my dear. He loved me very much. And I loved him. But I didn't trust him enough to give him total control, and that's why he left. As a Dom, he needed me to give him that trust and I just couldn't. He did the only thing he could - anything else would have been unsatisfying for both of us, in the end."

"But he was asking you to give up your dream, your business - your life! I don't see how that could possibly have given you a better outcome."

Celia shook her head. "No, he wasn't. Back then, I saw it the way you do now, but over the years I've come to see the truth. He was asking me to trust him to take care of any problems that might come up due to our relationship. He never asked me to quit working, or sell the club, in fact, he wanted us to run it together. He was asking me to let him be who he is, and also asking me to be true to my own nature. I just...wasn't ready yet."

"And now?" Brianna saw James shift closer, but forced herself to focus on Celia. "If you had to make the same decision?" She watched a host of emotion cross Celia's face as the woman considered the question. Somehow, it felt like Brianna's entire future hinged on the answer.

After several moments, her friend shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure," she said, regret lacing her words. "A lot of time has passed, and I've never felt the same way about anyone else, so I don't know if I'd even still feel the same way about him. Or if I'll ever feel that way again." She paused, glancing up at James before she continued.

"The thing is, Brianna...you're in a similar situation now. James is asking for your trust, and you're running scared. And if you truly aren't ready or willing to give yourself to him, I'll support you with whatever you need. But think carefully before you close the door. Because if there's one regret I have in life, it's not trusting the man I loved to have my best interests at heart. I wish I'd given him the chance to show me."

Brianna brushed a stray tear off her cheek. "I trusted Drew--"

"I'm not Drew, and you know it." James shook his head. "I've never felt as connected to anyone as I do with you, Brianna. But I need to be in charge - it's not what I do, it's who I am. We talked about this before, and you can deny it all you want, but you need to be submissive - it's in your genes. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't take your feelings and wishes into account. I want to know what you want, what you're feeling. As long as we're open and honest with each other, I really don't see why this couldn't work."

* * *

James saw the doubt in Brianna's eyes, his confidence sinking. He'd hoped that Celia could help - and she had, but he'd misjudged the extent of Brianna's fears. When Celia had suggested they come to Brianna's apartment - if you could call it that - he'd hoped to bring Brianna home with them. But it was looking less likely by the second, and now all he wanted to do was lock himself in his studio and paint.

"Time," Brianna said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need time to think it over. I can't just make a split-second decision with something as big as this."

Celia nodded. "That's reasonable, though it's up to James to set the limit." She looked up at him and winked, the small gesture giving him a sliver of hope.

"You have twenty-four hours. I'll expect your answer in person at my house by midnight tomorrow." He expected her to argue, but she merely nodded.

"Yes Sir."

Just those two words rolling off her tongue so naturally made his cock twitch to attention. He wanted nothing so much as to touch her, kiss her, feel her lips closing around him, but he went to the door and held it for Celia after she bid Brianna good night. Stepping over the threshold, it was all he could do not to glance back as he closed the door behind him.

He finally gave up trying to focus on anything except her around three the next afternoon. The more he thought about her, about the connection he felt to her, the more certain he was that he loved her. He spent the next several hours wondering if he'd pushed her too far too fast, asked for something she simply couldn't give. But she was strong, even if she didn't realize it just yet, and whatever her decision, he wasn't going anywhere. By the time the clock struck midnight, he'd come up with a proposal for her that he didn't think she'd be able to refuse, even if she resisted at first.

The doorbell rang, and his pulse spiked. He opened the office door just as Brianna looked up from greeting Angie and caught his gaze. Her expression was guarded, unreadable as she came towards him, and he felt like he'd explode any second if she didn't say, or do, something to release the tension between them.

She ducked into his office and stood in front of his desk while he closed the door and took a seat. Dropping her purse into one of the guest chairs, she took a breath, letting it out slowly as she walked around to stand beside him. He waited, looking into her eyes as she stared down at him, seeing her intention only a split second before she sunk to her knees and bowed her head.

"I am yours, Master James," she said, her voice breaking just a little. "Do with me as you will."

Something wasn't right. He frowned, leaning down to raise her chin with a finger so he could look in her eyes. Fear shone back at him, rather than the joy he'd hoped for. He shook his head.

"Why don't you have a seat?" He motioned toward the guest chairs. "Let's talk for a few minutes."

It was her turn to frown, but she rose and went to sit in front of the desk, her body so tight with nerves he was sure she'd be sore tomorrow. He leaned back in his chair, hoping his relaxed posture would set her more at ease.