Vodka & Handcuffs

Vahin Arora, Hamburger Mary’s sexy bartender, plays the flirtatious role so well even his closest friends don’t realize he hasn’t had a hookup in months. Then Tall, Dark, and Handsome steps through the door, and Vahin’s passion races back to life.

Being a black cop on the Denver police force is no easy job—Marlon Barton can’t imagine adding being gay to the equation. While Marlon loves his work, his life has taken a turn for the hellish because of his new partner, the nephew of a senator.

Fleeing his partner’s company one night, Marlon stumbles into Mary’s for the first time… and wakes up with a hangover in the bartender’s bed. The one-night stand heats up into a budding romance, but not without stress as Marlon’s partner’s actions threaten Vahin’s livelihood and Marlon’s future on the force. Can Vahin and Marlon face the challenges and hold on to the love and chosen family they’ve found?

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Marlon Barton

 

Screeching. Who the hell was screeching? They’d better be ready to be arrested for disrupting the entire universe with their abuse. When he got his hands on…. Marlon suddenly realized he couldn’t see anything; everything was dark. It took a few moments, maybe longer, to figure out his eyes were closed. Fixing that particular issue proved more challenging than usual.

The first attempt failed.

The second brought a wince and groan of pain.

Another screech.

Marlon turned toward the racket and made a third effort. He barely cracked open his eyes. The sunlight streaming in through the window had torture on its mind, but Marlon fought through it. There was murder to commit, and he’d probably need to do it with his eyes open.

After a few more painful seconds, the brightness of the window contracted to an actual image. A white-flowered tree branch swayed in the breeze. In front of that, on the windowsill, were two brownish red finches. One hopped up and down, then paused to let out another mind-splitting shriek.

Beside him, the mattress shifted, and a dark, muscled arm wrapped around his shoulders and chest. “Morning. Nothing like waking up to nature serenading you, huh? I love spring.”

The voice was low and pleasant but still caused the spike in Marlon’s brain to plunge deeper. And those little birds were actually the ones making the racket?

He stiffened, realizing the damn birds weren’t the major issue. The muscle-man arm and sleep-ridden voice were the issue.

Who the fu—

The picture finally came into focus.

Not his window, not his tree, not his noise-polluting finches. Not his bed. Not his house.

Hungover.

Strange place.

Unfamiliar arm. Sexy, sure, but still unfamiliar.

Dear Lord. He’d hooked up. He’d had a drunken hookup. The hangover wasn’t that new a thing lately, but it had been a while since one had come with a stranger’s bed.

With a groan, he shifted from his side to lie on his back. At the motion, the anonymous arm pulled away.

“You sound like you don’t feel so hot. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, with how much you drank after round one last night.”

“Round one?”

Marlon finally made it to his back and looked toward the voice.

And holy shit. Sexy face to go with the sexy arm. Warm brown skin over chiseled features. Thick mane of short wavy curls. Dark brown eyes filled with humor. Beautiful. And familiar. Wait. That gay restaurant. The bartender.

Oh shit. He could almost remember the guy’s name.

The man flashed a brilliant white smile of perfect teeth. “Oh, I know that look well. It’s Vahin. Don’t worry, no need to pretend you remembered. Luckily even if you would’ve remembered my name, you drank enough vodka to nearly obliterate your own.”

“I, ah….” What? He what? “Um, sorry. I just… need….”

The man—Vahin—issued a little snort. “Coffee. You need coffee, and probably some carbs to soak up what’s still in your system.” He sat up and twisted to get out of the bed. “And don’t get up unless you think you can make it to the bathroom. Movement and hangovers on an empty stomach is not something I want to clean off the floor.” He stood and walked across the room before looking back. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Try to breathe.”

Though it hurt his brain to do so, Marlon lifted his head slightly to watch Vahin walk away. That view was as sexy as the front. Muscled V-shaped back tapering to a narrow waist and a perfectly sculpted ass covered in black fur. Marlon sank back into the pillow as Vahin moved out of sight.

He’d slept with that man and didn’t remember. What a waste that was. Vahin was fucking gorgeous; he even had a dimple above his left asscheek, which drove Marlon crazy.

Another screech came from the window, and Marlon turned toward the sound with a wince and a glare. If that bird started tapping on the window, there was going to be hell to pay. It was then he noticed three condom wrappers on the hardwood floor, and one used condom plastered against the baseboard.

Gross.

Well, at least they’d been safe. Remember it or not.

Oh, wait. Actually he did, kinda. The ride back to this apartment was still blurry, but an image of bending Vahin over his bed while Marlon stood behind him came floating back into a resemblance of clarity. Enough that he even remembered the animalistic groans Vahin had made as Marlon fucked him. He felt his cock shift beneath the sheets at the memory.

The smell of coffee wafted into the bedroom. Thank God. Salvation.

Slowly Marlon wedged himself up the bed to a seated position and leaned against the headboard. He let the sheet fall to his waist but grabbed one of the extra pillows and covered his lap. Silly, he supposed, but he felt a little self-conscious about Vahin coming back in to find him with a hard-on.

He glanced at the condom wrappers. There’d definitely been more than one round, like Vahin had indicated. He wished he could remember. Of course, maybe he’d messed up opening the first two wrappers, but he doubted it. He actually remembered finishing inside Vahin as he was still bent over, then pulling off the condom and tossing it. Oh, right. That explained the condom wallpaper attempt. Then asking for a drink. That’s right…. There’d been vodka, straight, and lots of it. The rest of the night faded after that.

Vodka. After endless rounds of beer. Dear God. No wonder his head hurt. Marlon knew he’d been drinking more than he should. Had for a while, but it was just part of it. You worked a hard shift, each traffic stop possibly bringing you face-to-face with the barrel of a gun, you have to take a guy down in front of his kids, you get blamed for every bad cop out there, and every scumbag who wants to make an example of you. At the end of the night, you go out with your buddies, the only other people in the world who truly get what you go through every day, and you drink. But typically it was beer for Marlon. Not vodka.

Enter Andrew. That asshole had definitely caused an upswing in Marlon’s hard liquor intake. Then, on top of it all, he’d taken away Marlon’s one release last night. No wonder Marlon had ended up in a stranger’s bed with a hangover.

Vahin walked back into the bedroom, a huge mug in his hand and a plate piled with toast in the other. The sunlight, so malevolent before, now caressed the muscled planes of Vahin’s chest and shoulders, all covered in the same dark hair as his plump ass. His large flaccid cock caught the light as he moved across the room.

Maybe waking up in a stranger’s bed wasn’t something Marlon needed to be angry with Andrew about, after all.

“Wow.” Vahin paused at the foot of the bed, staring openly. “That chest, man. I’d forgotten while I made breakfast.” He closed the distance, placed the plate of toast on the bedside table beside Marlon, and then handed him the coffee.

Marlon took the mug.

Vahin hesitated, then stretched out his hand but paused an inch or so away from Marlon’s chest. His gaze darted up to Marlon’s. “You mind?”

Marlon shook his head.

He was instantly glad of the pillow still covering his lap as Vahin smoothed his hand over his chest, then gave a slight pull on his chest hair.

“God, I love that.” Vahin moved his hand away and gave a tight shake of his head. “Sorry, you’re just… wow.” Another shake. “Okay. You drink your coffee.” He snagged a piece of toast as he stepped away and took a bite as he walked around the bed, then slid under the sheet next to Marlon.

Review link for the review we did on the first release

Brandon Witt received his roots in the Ozark, grew wings in Denver, and is learning to fly in New Orleans. When not snuggled on the couch with his two dogs and his partner, Stephen, he is more than likely in front of his computer, nose inches from the screen, fingers pounding the keys.

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