by Dani Wyatt
I nod. “Make your deal.” I press the words out through tight teeth, withholding a growl at the end.
She jerks her head toward the line of cork dart boards along the wall to our left. “We’ll play for it. Each dart, high score gets a question. Single dart rounds, first to exactly 300 wins. I go out first, I get your money. You go out first, you leave with it.”
That’s not what I want to leave with.
I tip my hand and from the way her eyes connect to mine she’s not completely unaffected by the tension between us.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
I follow behind as she turns to walk toward the boards, my eyes keen on the way her ass is torturing the back pockets of her jeans, begging for me to pull those cheeks apart and feast on everything she keeps there for me. Her pussy is where I will live, giving her my mouth, my fingers, my cock and all the pleasure she deserves.
Fuck, I need to know if she’s wet. And that I caused it.
My mouth waters. There’s no use trying to hide my hard on as it pushes up and out on my trousers, and the truth is I want her to see what she’s doing to me and yet I don’t want to scare her away. It’s a fine line but there are things at work here even I don’t understand.
“Customers first.” She grins, waving me to the throw line holding a single dart in her upturned palm, and I slip my toe forward as I look down at her. When I take the dart from her hand, my fingertips brush her skin and I swear to Christ there’s a spark that makes us both look down.
She’s looks so small that she cranes her neck to look up into my face, and as her eyes flit upward an image of her dropping to her knees, hands on my belt, lips open and willing, sings to me. The tip of my cock weeps cum and need blurs my vision.
I line up my shot and let my dart fly. Growing up in Ireland, the game is in my blood and I hit the outer ring of the bulls-eye exactly as I’d aimed.
“Not bad.” She shrugs. “Looks like I’ll be answering all the questions then.”
I sidestep, and she takes my place at the line, leaning in and taking her shot. The dart thuds into the board hard, and she releases a sigh.
“Lucky shot, I guess.” Her steel tip landed in the center ring of the bulls-eye and I know a ringer when I see one. “Let me think of a question.”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and for a split second I consider the fact that I’m getting very quickly attached to a girl that lives across an ocean from me. Ireland is home, and this was supposed to just be a visit to check in at my investment and reset my head, not to restart my rusty heart.
“Okay.” She starts, “Where did you get that scar?” She points to the long silver stripe that traverses from the center of my forehead down to my left eyebrow.
“Bar fight.” I answer. “Our neighborhood pub looked a lot like this place. Worked cleaning the floors and keeping the peace. Broke up my share of bullshit. This one,” I jab a finger to the scar, “a man raised a hand to a lady. I was sixteen he was probably fifty, but he absorbed the lesson I taught as well as a lifetime eviction from the place. He managed to break his pint glass on my head before he went down though.”
That stubborn grin tugs at her lips again and the way her eyes shine as I speak feeds my soul.
“And the limp?”
“That’s two questions,” I say, but this game was her idea and I’m happy to tell her anything she wants to know. Anything to keep her talking to me. “Tell you what, you give me a smile and I’ll answer.”
Her eyebrows furrow. With an embarrassed roll of her eyes she shakes her head and a reluctant smile wins making my balls twitch and tighten.
I fucking swear, my body is tripling the amount of cum it produces. A tug deep inside wants to sink inside her and let go over and over until the world knows she’s mine. Make her my little baby making machine. Watch my cum dripping out of her for days until I’m sure I’ve taken root.
“There it is.” I thumb my bottom lip trying to hold back my own smile as her breaks over her teeth lighting up the room.
The pink on her cheeks spreads to a soft red over her face. Her freckles only make it more beautiful. “Well then, you going to answer my question or not?”
“Yep, man of my word. I was with the Garda.”
She tugs her lips down looking like that information gained me a few points with her. “That so? What did you do there?”
“I was an Inspector. Drugs and Organized Crime.” I sniff lowering my voice.
“Not bad.” She winks, and it’s my turn for my face to warm. This little ginger snap has me fucking blushing.
Blushing for fucks sake.
She’s quickly wrapping me around each of her fingers.
“Anyway, there was an arms deal, I was supposed to co-ordinate from the surveillance room we had set up in a building across the street. But it went south, one of my officers got shot and I couldn’t let him die on my account. Those bad guys weren’t messing around. Moment they knew who he really was it all turned to a world of shit. I suppose I should have cut him loose and filed the paperwork, but it’s not in my nature. By the time I got over there, he was bleeding pretty bad, but I managed to pull him out. I got this—” I point to my leg “—as a result.”
Her mouth drops wide. “What happened? They shoot you, too?”
I nod. “A stray bullet. Once they’d made my guy it sent the lot of them wild, blaming each other and cursing old family names and such. They didn’t even see me scoot in through the back door, grab my officer and pull him away, but they started shooting at each other. I got in the way of a round. Shattered the bones in my knee. Never quite worked the same after.”
“Jeez…But you said you were in the Garda. Past tense.”
“If I stayed I would have been on a desk rest of my time. No way I could let others put themselves in harm’s way while I sat there fat and safe, so I took early retirement instead.”
Her answer is a pause and a nod, and I can’t read her features. She’s playing things close to the vest but I want to be inside that vest. “So, ready to answer more of my questions?” She steps away with a sly grin and we have another go at the board.
This time, she’s on the outer ring and I take the center.
“That’s not luck.” She flips her head at the board. “You probably weaned off your mother in a pub back home didn’t you?” She raises her forefinger to a patron at the bar who beckons her. “One second, Jimmy.”
“I did.” I choke down the chuckle thinking about my mom who, according to my father, used to nurse me while they sat in the pub drinking pints. How things have changed.
“Alright.” She squares off with a toss of her ponytail. “What’s your question?”
I want to know how your cunt tastes. I want to know how it feels to be inside a woman. No, that’s not true…I want to know how it feels to be inside of you.
A million questions fight for dominance inside my head. I want to know everything about her, but one is tapping at me hard.
Does she have a boyfriend?
I realize that it doesn’t matter, because if she does, that’s over now.
I’ve never been arrogant, but I’m as sure as I’ve ever been that if necessary I would take care of that complication with extreme prejudice.
“What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not at work?” I keep my first question safe but it’s not yes or no so I’m hoping to learn more about her.
She cocks her left eyebrow and pulls her lips to the side. “Tell you the truth, I don’t do much besides work.”
Her answer grips me in my gut. A treasure like her should be experiencing every joy this life has. Then, as quickly as her answer made it sad, the selfish prick inside of me smiles, knowing I will be the one to introduce her to so many new experiences. That I will be there with her to watch her.
I consider for a moment, then nod. “Well then, what would you like to do that you don’t get a chance to do?”
She tugs a shoulder to her ear and her voice
softens. “I’ve always wanted to learn to ride a horse. Like, you know, gallop through a field somewhere.” She giggles then dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Imagine that? Girl like me on a horse? I’ve never even been out of Pittsburgh.” Her answer turns the grip in my cut to a knife in my heart.
“I can imagine it. You were born to be on a horse.”
Although, you’d look fuck-fine riding me as well.
She narrows her eyes as if she can’t decide if I’m teasing. Her expression shifts as though she’s looking at me through a new set of glasses or something. She’s peeling back the gruff, monster facade most see with me. But I’m praying she sees the real Brann Maguire. The one that would do anything for her.
The one whose stone walls are quickly crumbling at his feet ready to be rebuilt into a new foundation for our life.
We play another few rounds and she seems as interested in finding out the answers to my questions as I am in hers. In the end, she’s winning more rounds than me, but I’m good with that. Just the sound of her voice and being allowed this close to her is melting parts of me I didn’t know were frozen.
She wins the next couple rounds, asking me where I’m from and if I like dogs. She’s never had a dog, and it’s another one of the things she’d love to do someday. I store every bit of the information she gives me knowing it will be my duty to give her everything she desires.
She wins the next round.
“Okay.” She taps the darts to her lips, inspecting me. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I can’t help it. Where did you get that scar?”
She lowers the darts from her lips and points them toward her throat shifting them back and forth gesturing to the noose like scar that runs around the base of my neck.
I pause drawing in a full breath and holding it wondering if the answer to her question will tell her something about me she won’t like.
Before I can answer she shakes her head and looks away. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer.” I see a tough exterior that is the mask for a little girl inside. Some long-fought insecurity that I want to wash away and replace with her knowing what a fucking treasure she is.
I reach over and brush a strand of red hair that hangs onto her forehead before answering.
“It’s not as exciting as you’d think.” I shake my head thinking back.
“Doesn’t have to be exciting. I want to know.” The twinkle in her eyes only adds to the hardness in my cock.
“See, Ryan Dunkirk,” I cross my arms over my chest diving into the story. “He took to teasing me from the time the first day of primary school in my worn shoes and patched trousers. Down the years, we scrapped more than a few times, and even though he was four years ahead of me and always bigger I managed to win some pride with him more often than he’d have liked. So, one day, he decided instead of beating me down, he’d dare me to wear a blackberry ivy for the day at school around my neck. He told everyone standing around that I’d be crying by noon. Anyway, one thing you should know about me, is tell me I can’t do something and sure as shit I’ll find a way. He had me finding the closest thorny bush and wrapping it not once but twice around my neck. I kept my shirt buttoned up for two days. When my mum finally tugged my collar open the third morning at breakfast I yelped. Sitting there barely able to swallow my oatmeal, she snatched it off and gave me a whipping that would rival anything Ryan Dunkirk or that ivy could have dished out. Took a month for my neck to heal, but Ryan Dunkirk never messed with me again.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “You’re sort of an idiot.”
Something my mother used to say comes back to me in a wave.
If a woman ever calls you an idiot, she’s probably in love with you.
Christ mum, I hope you’re right.
I miss my mum and dad. They’ve been gone years now, nothing tragic just life, but they were admired and loved by me and most that knew them back home.
I flip my hand up and retort. “I cannot confirm or deny. I’m stubborn, but I do learn.”
“There’s hope for you yet.” She crinkles her nose and my heart skips a beat.
As we wrap up another round, a shout comes from the bar.
“Hey, you still work here, Ri? I’m empty! Maybe I should get your Dad on the phone.”
The voice belongs to the same dumb ass that was eye fucking her earlier and I begin planning his demise.
“Ah, get over yourself.” She shouts back. “I’m coming. Not like you all couldn’t use a few minutes in a lifetime without a pint in your hands.” She looks my way and twists a smile.
It pains me to let her go, but this is her job. At least for now.
Besides, whoever it is working the bar with her, he seems like he can handle himself if there’s a situation. I twist my hand holding my dart and look at my watch. “I’ve got to head out anyway.”
Truth is, I’m an hour late to meet Henry, and he’s going to give me hell, but time with her will always trump time doing anything else.
We match steps back toward the table as she starts to speak.
“Devan’s harmless,” she starts to explain, taking note of the way I keep looking at the fuck staring Riona’s way. “Anyway, we’ve got to keep all the customers we can. That God-damned new pub opened up over on the west side…” Her voice trails off and my gut turns. “Whoever owns that place...they’re bloodsuckers. I’ve considered making a bomb out of whiskey and ammonia and blowing the place up. I think they are deliberately trying to put us out of business.” Her words soften but her eyes tell me how raw the subject is. “Sorry, I’m not usually a violent person.” Her voice trails off, and she brings her hands up to cover her mouth, closing her eyes for a second.
The combination of sadness and anger I see in her turns my blood icy.
I’m the enemy.
Jesus Christ, now what the fuck do I do? My intention was to stop in here, grab a quick pint, eye up the competition. Nothing unfair, just a healthy rivalry between two Irish pubs I figured. Seems fate had something else in mind.
I shake my head when I realize I’m staring in silence at her.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Thank you, Riona.” I set my darts down on the table and sidestep toward the door yet unable to tear my eyes from her face as I do.
She twists her lips into a smirking smile. “Nuh uh. You’re not leaving until I get my hundred bucks ya cheap bastard. I earned it, fair and square.” She nods toward the chalk board where the tick marks show she took more rounds than me.
“That you did.” I take a step back to the table where the bill is still sitting under the napkin dispenser. I tug it free handing it to her letting my hand rest on hers for a long moment. When she doesn’t pull away that drumbeat that’s been pounding inside of me since I set eyes on her thrums louder.
I know I should tell her who I am, who I really am, but I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to ruin this. Not before it’s even started. I need better footing first. Need her attached to me a bit more. Then, I’ll come clean.
“See ya around, Brann Maguire.” She folds the bill carefully and then pushes it down the front of her shirt nearly toppling me in the process. When she turns and walks back toward the bar, I know she not only just took my money, she’s got my heart as well.
4
Brann
“Glad you could make it, dumb ass. You’re an hour and a half late.” Henry grins and holds out his hand for me to shake, but I hesitate, unsure about whose side I’m on right now. He frowns. “What the fuck, man? You’re not going to shake my hand?”
I draw a slow breath and place my hand in his with a sturdy shake. Henry is my brother in every way that matters. No part of me believes he would intentionally try to put The Parting Glass out of business. But all I can think about is her. I know I’m here to do what I do best but all of a sudden, the only thing that’s interested me in longer than I can remember is my investments but right now that doesn’t feel so interesting. My new focus is clear.
My future.
> With her.
“We need to talk.” I turn my face towards the third occupant of the room, a woman in a gray suit and sensible shoes. Her clothing looking like it belongs on a woman twice her age and her hair it tugged into a bun so tight her eyes are slits. I look her up and down, then back to Henry. “In private.”
“Ah, yeah, but first this is Gina Plumber, she’s the—”
“This can’t wait.” I drop my eyes to the seated woman. “Sorry.”
An uncomfortable moment of silence has us all exchanging eye contact. Henry had said today’s meeting would be with an outside consultant. I assume this Gina Plumber has something to sell us but right now all I can think about is Riona and how we are wrecking the legacy of a family just trying to get by.
“I’ll wait in the bar,” Gina says, pushing back her chair and standing up. “It’s been a pleasure Mr. Maguire.” I don’t mind the hint of sarcasm in her voice it’s earned but I don’t give a shit.
When I fail to reply, she grabs a brown briefcase off the desk and focuses deliberate steps out the door.
“What the fuck, man? I’ve never known you to be so rude to a lady—”
“The Parting Glass,” I growl.
He starts to laugh but my expression changes his mind and his face drops into a look of confusion. “What about it? They’re our competition. What the fuck is with you?”
“Are you trying to put them out of business?”
“What?” He shakes his head stepping closer to me, arms crossed.
“You heard the question.” The cool office is heating up quickly. White walls are dotted with expensive artwork and pictures of the pub and local celebrities holding up pints with Henry.
For a split second, he hesitates unsure what’s going on. He squares up to me, but in a blink his better judgment kicks in and he steps back, shoulders dropping. “Okay, look, business is business. They’re competition. It’s my job to make us more money. That’s why you invested isn’t it? But put them out of business completely? Naw. You know me, man, I’m not a complete dick.”
“Well, they’re on the edge of just that.”