Irish Cream by Trinity Marlow

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.
    "Tell me what you want," he said, careful to keep a conversational tone, rather than stating it as a command. "What would you like to do with your life?"
    She gave him a quizzical look. "I'm not sure what you mean - isn't that for you to decide now?"
    He sighed. "Weren't you listening at all the other night? I want to know what you want, what you feel. We need to be open and honest with each other if this is going to work - and that means you need to talk to me."
    She looked down at her hands. "I want to work," she said quietly, raising her head just enough to peer at him through her lashes. "A job, I mean."
    He thought about it for a minute. "You don't have to, you know. I have plenty of money--"
    "It's not that." She leaned forward, her eyes imploring. "I don't like just sitting around all day, waiting to be...used. And honestly I'm not all that fond of housework either. I want to do something that will challenge my mind. Something I can be proud of. I need..." she paused, obviously struggling to find the right words.
    "Mental stimulation," James supplied, earning a nod in agreement. He thought about it for a minute. "That shouldn't be a problem. In fact, I know of two positions you might want to check out. Unless you have something already."
    She stared at him, her mouth open in shock. He smiled, pleased at the glimmer of hope in her gaze.
    "You don't mind?" The tightness in her shoulders eased visibly and he felt like he'd just passed an important test.
    He shrugged. "I don't see why I should - but I do think we need to talk about why you think I want you here. Because it's not just for the use of your body, Brianna - and it's my fault I didn't make that clear."
    She frowned. "You want me as your submissive, right? A sex slave?" There was no malice in her tone, no sarcasm, just genuine confusion - and maybe a hint of sadness.
    James braced his elbows on the desk, one palm extended toward her. "I know you feel it, this connection between us. It's not just a physical attraction, or at least not for me. I want you, Brianna - the whole you, not just your body."
    She reached out to fit her hand in his. "I think I knew that," she said, not meeting his gaze. "I--I do feel...something for you. I wouldn't be here otherwise. I'm just..." she didn't finish the sentence, her cheeks reddening under his watchful stare.
    "You're just what?" he asked,