Devin (Corked and Tapped Book 10)
Devin
Corked and Tapped, Book Ten
Becca Jameson
Copyright © 2019 by Becca Jameson
Cover Artist: Julio Desir, Jr.
Editor: Christa Soule
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Acknowledgments
About the Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Author’s Note
Also by Becca Jameson
About the Author
Acknowledgments
I have to thank my amazing, wonderful, fabulous beta reader most extraordinaire, Susan Whitney, for all her help reading these fun novellas and helping me every step of the way!
I also want to thank my editor, Christa, for plotting with me on every one! She rocks!
And my daughter, Rebecca, who read each one over her summer break!
About the Book
“Today marks five years sober.” That explained why he’d ordered the whiskey and then covered it with a napkin. It did not explain why his gaze penetrated her so deeply or why he’d chosen to call her a brat. And it certainly didn’t explain why her breath hitched every time he glanced his direction.
Corked and Tapped: Because the best stories never start with someone eating a salad.
Chapter 1
“Whiskey. Neat.”
Devin nodded toward the man as he slid onto a stool at the end of the bar. She finished pouring a draft for another customer farther down the bar and then grabbed a bottle of Jameson and held it toward him, brows raised.
He nodded. “Doesn’t matter.”
She glanced at him again as she splashed whiskey in the tumbler. His brows were furrowed as he watched her intently, gaze on the glass. He was tall and broad with bulging muscles that flexed as he gripped the edge of the bar. His black T-shirt was tight, drawing attention to his biceps. His skin was tanned, making her think he worked outside.
For a moment she thought he might reach out and snag the glass out of her hand before she was finished, but then he surprised her by setting a coaster over the top as soon as she slid it toward him. “Can I also get a seltzer?”
“Sure.” She reached for another glass from the rack above her head, scooped some ice into it, and filled it with sparkling water. “You want lime?”
“No.”
She set the glass in front of him, wondering what his intention was. Perhaps he was thirsty and wanted to drink something before he sipped the whiskey.
After taking a drink of the carbonated water, he set the glass down, cupping the sides of it, and met her gaze. It was the first time he looked directly into her eyes, and he held her gaze for several seconds before scanning down to her chest and then back up. His dark chocolate eyes narrowed further, but she was certain she detected a slight lift at the corners of his mouth. Not quite a smile. More like less of a frown.
Devin shuddered under the intensity of his scrutiny. It felt like he was sizing her up, as if he’d just now noticed her.
He said nothing else, but he communicated plenty.
She was used to men doing a double take when they first met her, so she wasn’t surprised by his reaction. She knew she had classic good looks—smooth skin, dark eyes, deep brown hair, pouty lips, a button nose, and below all that…fantastic breasts. What caused the double take was the fact that she did nothing to embellish her looks. She wore very little makeup and kept her hair in a high ponytail when she tended bar.
Men usually reacted one of two ways when they finally noticed her. Either they swallowed their tongues and looked away. Or they smiled broad and cocky, thinking they might score.
This man was different. He did neither. Nothing in his expression insinuated he intended to seduce her tonight. However, he was confident and still hadn’t glanced away.
Her reaction to him was rare and unnerving. She could feel it all the way to her bones. Her shoulders dropped, as did her gaze, as if he had some sort of power over her. And he did. She could feel his eyes still boring into her, making her shudder again, and she grabbed a cloth to swipe at the nonexistent condensation on the counter.
She couldn’t shake the image of his thick dark hair, the style long enough that she could easily run her fingers through it. She wondered what it might feel like.
The noise in the room had ceased to exist for longer than it should have, and she realized with a start that someone was calling her name.
Finally, she glanced up at the man again and swallowed. “If you need anything else, just holler.”
He still said nothing, but his gaze was pinned on hers again, narrowed, deep. It felt like he could see into her soul.
She jerked her attention to the other end of the bar where one of the waitresses, Jade, was leaning toward her. “Devin?” Jade repeated.
“Coming.” What the fuck is wrong with me?
Every inch of Devin’s body was alive, tingling. Arousal, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in a long time, consumed her.
Jade was smirking as Devin approached. She glanced several times toward the newcomer. “He’s hot.”
Devin shrugged. “I guess so.” She had no idea why she would lie about her reaction to him, but she did it anyway.
“He’s also still staring at you,” Jade added.
Devin’s cheeks heated, though with her tanned skin, she knew no one would notice. Another lucky genetic attribute. “Did you need something?” Devin nudged.
Jade’s eyes were dancing. “Yep. Sapphire Tom Collins.”
Devin filled the order quickly and efficiently, glad that her brain was still functioning, if only partially. The man at the other end of the bar seemed to have burrowed under her skin.
Suddenly, Devin realized her brain for sure wasn’t firing on all four cylinders. Jade was supposed to be in the private room at the back of the bar with the rest of the regular staff for the company Christmas party. The main bar was being manned tonight entirely with seasonal temporary employees. “What are you doing up front?” Devin asked as she handed Jade the tall glass.
Jade shoved off the counter. “Mike only stocked Tanqueray back there tonight. I wanted Bombay.”
Devin nodded. “Got it. Well, enjoy.”
Jade glanced down the bar again and then winked. “You too.”
Taking her time, Devin worked her way back down the bar, filling orders and making small talk, desperately trying to ignore the magnetic pull toward the handsome stranger.
When she finally stepped up to him again, she found the whiskey untouched, the cardboard coaster still covering it, the man’s hands cupping his glass. She wondered if he had ever once taken his eyes off her because he was staring at her now.
She nodded toward the whiskey and then reached for it. “Something wrong with the Jameson? I can pour you another.”
His hand jerked out, and he grabbed her wrist before she could manage to touch his glass. “Leave it.”
Her growing flush deepened as she licked her lips and met his gaze. “Okay…”
“I don’t drink,” he informed her. “Today marks five years sober.”
Okay. She searched his gaze.
Tingles ran up her arm where he still gripped her, firm enough to make his point but not so hard as to leave a bruise. When he stroked the underside of her wrist with his thumb, her breath hitched. “Why do you cover it?” she whispered.
“So I can’t smell it. It’s tempting. But I’m stronger.”
“I’m sure you are. Five years is impressive.” She was only peripherally familiar with alcoholics from working in the bar on her holidays. “So, this is a ritual? You do this every year?”
He nodded. “On the anniversary of my sobriety.”
“Ma’am?” someone called from farther down the bar.
The mesmerizing man gripping her gave her wrist one last squeeze and released her, nodding toward the customer as if instructing her on what to do.
She was more unnerved now than she had been after their first encounter, and she wiped her hands on the front of her jeans as she stepped away from him. Tingles raced up her spine in a good way.
He had a familiar quality about him that made her shiver. Controlling. Powerful. What she would expect from a Dom. The kind of dominance she longed for, if she wasn’t misreading him.
Chapter 2
Devin considered keeping her distance from the mysterious man at the end of the bar. She waited half an hour before giving in to temptation and approaching him again. Even without looking at him, she could feel his power. Her constant awareness of him never wavered. She knew he was staring at her. She could feel it without glancing. It was distracting.
Tonight was difficult enough since the entire staff was temporary. The owner, Mike, intentionally held the staff party on a Tuesday night, the least busy night of the week, but there were still enough patrons to keep Devin hopping.
She didn’t dare touch the glass of whiskey when she returned to refill his seltzer. Nor did she meet his gaze. Something about him had her cowering to him, and not in a bad way. In a way she knew was submissive. Did he feel it too?
“Is this your full-time job?” he asked, his fingers brushing hers as she returned his glass.
She lifted her face. “Nope. I’m seasonal. I help out during the holidays.”
He cocked his head to one side. “What do you normally do?”
“I’m a grad student, studying economics. I work as much as I can during my breaks to pay the bills.”
His eyes widened. “Economics?”
She smirked and rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised. There is a brain inside my pretty little head. I promise.”
His wide eyes narrowed and he leaned over the bar. Inches separated their faces, and she stopped breathing. Her panties dampened immediately. He slowly lifted a hand and cupped her chin. Finally, he spoke. “Not surprised at all. Impressed is a better word. I’m pleased to know the woman I’ve been watching for the past hour who is capable of remembering ten things at once and running this place single-handedly is precisely who she appears to be.”
Devin blinked, unsure what to make of his little speech.
“Even if she is a bit bratty.” He lifted both brows and dipped his face closer before releasing her chin and sitting back.
Her jaw dropped, but speech failed her. Holy shit. The dampness in her panties was now more of a problem. Soaked was the better term. The possibility that he was a Dom shot way up. It had niggled in the back of her mind from the moment he first slid onto the stool, but hoping for more would have been futile.
Just because the man was overbearing and intense didn’t mean he was also a Dominant. His demeanor and attitude could have been caused by any number of factors.
But this… This last line of his tipped the scales in a new direction. “Did you just call me a brat?” she asked, though she’d heard him perfectly well.
He lifted those damn brows even higher. “Did you not just taunt me with the most exaggerated eye roll you could muster?”
Her cheeks heated. She had done that. Intentionally, though? And was she biting off more than she could chew?
She needed to tread carefully here. He would have her on her knees before the end of the evening, and that was impressive since few men were strong enough to dominate her the way she liked.
Devin wasn’t innocent when it came to kink. She dabbled. She frequented a local club. She had even submitted to a few men in the past year. However, no man had truly managed to command her, and she’d begun to think perhaps she wasn’t as submissive as her brain insisted.
She also had never pinpointed precisely what sort of kink appealed to her. Most of her time in the local club had been spent observing. Learning. Listening. Feeling.
But this man… God. What was he doing to her?
She realized she was still blinking at him in shock when he leaned closer again, cupped her face, and set his lips on her ear. His whispered words made her stomach drop. “If you were mine, I would take you to the back room right now and spank your tight little bottom until you couldn’t sit down for two days.”
She gasped, flinching. Her face flamed and her mouth fell open as she squirmed at the idea of his hand on her butt.
He chuckled, his lips still close. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I have not misjudged you.” His lips lingered on her neck just behind her ear and then he released her and sat back to take a long drink of his seltzer. “Your customers are waiting, baby girl. Go take care of them.”
Shit.
A hand landed on her back, jerking her out of her trance and back to reality. She spun around to find Jade behind her. The woman had a wide knowing smile on her face and was fighting laughter. “If you need more help out front, I could tell Mike I’m needed here.”
Devin shook her head. “What? No. Of course not.”
Jade glanced over Devin’s shoulder toward the Dom. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” Devin stepped around her and scurried to the far side of the bar where another waitress was waiting for her to fill her orders. It took every ounce of concentration to listen close enough to the list of drinks and prepare them.
Was it possible she was a brat?
Chapter 3
“I like the name Devin,” he said the next time she checked on him. “It suits you.”
“Thank you,” she managed to respond, not sure what he meant by that. “Do you have a name? Or should I just call you bossy?” She fought against a smile.
One brow went up this time. An improvement over two. “And you don’t think you’re a brat?”
Her breath hitched. “I’ve never been accused of being a brat before. Not sure it suits me.”
“Mmm. We’ll see.”
Will we? The tight knot in her stomach that had been growing all evening gripped tighter. She wanted to “see” more than anything. Was it wise? She didn’t know this man at all. Certainly not well enough to submit to him the way her body apparently craved. It was foolish to continue interacting with him. Wasn’t it?
He set an elbow on the bar and rubbed his chin. “Colton Frayser, but I suggest you address me as Sir.”
Fuck me. Yep. They were definitely going there. No way could she be mistaking his intentions anymore. He’d just gotten as blunt as possible. And she responded the only way she possibly could. “Yes, Sir.” Luckily no one was nearby because she wasn’t the sort to submit in public. Though if she were honest, she’d been submitting to Colton Frayser all evening. At work. In front of people. Regular vanilla people. Patrons of Corked and Tapped.
Subtly though. Most likely no one but Colton and Devin were aware.
The stakes were higher now. As she continued to serve people and fill orders for the waitresses, she was more aware of Colton staring at her than ever. He was burning a hole in her. The room was hotter.
Earlier she had been wearing a jacket over her Corked and Tapped tank top. It was winter, after all. Chilly outside in the outskirts of Atlanta. But she had shed the jacket, her body heated from rushing around behind the bar combined with the flames lapping at her from Colton.
Now that she knew his name, sh
e stopped thinking of him as that tall, sexy, built man. Though she really should think of him as Sir. He’d made it clear that she should not address him by any other name besides the respectful term.
Visions of kneeling before him circulated over and over in her mind. Her dabbling had included some rope play and a few scenes with a flogger. In every instance, she had submitted to a seasoned Dom in a club. At no point had she submitted to anyone outside of a club. Nor had she truly given herself over to anyone for more than a half-hour scene.
She had never been sure what kept her on the fringe of the lifestyle, but somehow, though she identified herself as submissive, she had never quite clicked with anyone. No particular Dom had made her glance twice. Until now. Until Colton stepped into Corked and Tapped and somehow managed to control her with just a look.
When she glanced at Colton again, she found him staring at the glass of whiskey, his fingers on it, spinning it around in circles. It was the first time she’d caught him touching it or even paying attention to it. The cardboard coaster was no longer covering it.
She handed a customer his beer and made her way to the end of the bar. “You okay?” she asked tentatively.
He shifted his gaze to her, though not his head. And then he lifted that damn brow again. Waiting.
Fuck. Me. She swallowed. “Sir?”
He released the glass with a sigh and shoved it to the side again, replacing the coaster. “Christmastime is hard. All the parties and dinners. But this year is harder.”
“Why is that, Sir?”
“My mother died in June. She was my cheerleader. My rock. The only person who believed in me and supported me when I hit rock bottom.”