Legally Bound Read Online Free Page B

to be intimidated, she jerked her hand
free. “I do want to do this. Now, either you call of the bet or you put
the damn thing on.”
    Please call off the bet.
Please.
    The air became so thick with tension Eve could
barely breathe it in. Just when she thought he was about to tell her to shove
the collar where the sun don’t shine, he snatched it from her hand, swore, and
fastened it around his thick neck.
    Shocked, Eve stared. This couldn’t be happening.
He was supposed to call off the bet, not go along with it! Caitlyn’s secret
weapon had failed miserably. Her only options now were either to call off the
bet herself or spend the weekend with him.
    Still scowling, Donavan released her wrist and
dramatically waved an arm. “Lead the way, oh mighty Mistress of Eden.”
    Eve hesitated. Although she had seen plenty of
femme Dommes lead their slaves around on a chain she never anticipated being
one of them. How hard could it be?
    “Well?” Donavan bit out. I don’t want to be
wearing this fucking thing longer than necessary. “You going to just stand
there?”
    “Um…” Eve swept a shaky gaze around the club and
then finally pointed. “That way. We’ll go that way. Onward, slave.”
    Onward, slave? Oh, the woman had nerve. If
there weren’t a greater goal at risk—one he’d yearned for since first seeing
her at the college library, gnawing on the end of her pencil while perusing a
legal text through a pair of mousey, yet somehow unbelievably attractive,
reading glasses—he would have torn the collar from his neck, locked it on hers,
and then dragged her kicking and screaming to their private room. Unfortunately,
he didn’t want to take the chance of her somehow slipping away and darting for
the doors. He needed to get her to the room.
    As Eve paraded him in three full circles around
the club, nausea gurgled in Donavan’s stomach. He could feel the appraising
eyes of other Mistresses as they scanned him from head to toe like he were a
piece of meat. For a submissive, the hungry stares of every femme Domme in the
room would be considered the highest form of compliment. As a Dom, it made his
gut churn.
    In need of a distraction, Donavan focused his eyes
on the gentle curve of Eve’s exposed shoulder blades, her tightly cinched
waist, and the seductive bow of her hips. The skirt of her elegant ballroom
gown swayed side to side like a church bell. The generous cascade of fabric
concealed her long legs but he knew they were under there and the thought of
them wrapped around his waist as he drove his cock into her sweet pussy made
his blood boil.
    Enough was enough.
    With the little slack there was, Donavan wrapped
the chain around his palm and yanked. The leash snapped taut. In front of him,
Eve stumbled with the sudden resistance and gracelessly lurched backward. Her
back slammed into his mid-section and he barely caught her before she fell flat
on the floor.
    “Damn it! What are you doing?” she demanded.
    “We’ve circled this place over three times; a
groove is beginning to form in the floor.”
    Fuming, she shoved his arm away and turned to
face him.
    “Maybe I like to…exercise my slaves,” she replied
pointedly, tilting her nose in the air as if she were the heiress to the crown
jewels.
    “Or maybe you’re afraid to go to the room with
me.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. Her tone was
sharp but through the holes of her golden mask, those cat-like green eyes
clouded with apprehension.
    “Fine,” she continued. “I think we should go to
the room. Those grapes aren’t going to peel themselves.”
    “No, I imagine they won’t,” he agreed, with no
intention of peeling any grapes whatsoever. He gestured a hand when she looked
uncertain of where to go next. “Studio seven is that way.”
    They traveled down a long corridor. Extravagant
sex rooms flanked the hall. Some of the rooms were completely enclosed while
others were made with glass walls for the benefit of voyeurs