Bondage And Bureaucracy

by Rynne Raines

  A shudder rippled all the way to Eve’s toes and her fingers clenched tighter around the handle of her briefcase. Secretly she’d always wondered what Donavan did to his women in those rooms. Knowing his reputation, she imagined he wasted no time before shackling his naked companion in a vulnerable position in which he would have full rein to conduct his sensual torture. And they all let him. Craved him. Kneeled to him.

  The man probably has a cock made of solid gold, too, Eve decided as she surveyed her rival’s striking profile with mild irritation. Unfortunately, she wasn’t certain whether her irritation stemmed from not being able to understand how so many women willingly surrendered their control to him when it was common knowledge Donavan went through sexual partners faster than the speed of light or because quite often…she fantasized about being one of them.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Donavan glanced over his shoulder. His slate gray eyes locked on her and breath caught in Eve’s throat. Her heartbeat paused. Her knees liquefied. She refused to look away. Even when the slow smile tugging at his sensual mouth sent a wave of heat between her thighs, she held her ground. If she were the first to break eye contact it would only empower him more. The last thing she needed Donavan having over her was more power.

  In attempt to regain the upper hand, Eve sent a smoldering gaze and sultry smile across the vast foyer of the courthouse. Dangerous? Certainly. Necessary? Absolutely. It was all part of the game they played. They’d been at it for at least two years now. There was a flirtatious, sexual undertone to all their encounters and although Eve wasn’t normally one for mixing business with pleasure, their game of cat and mouse was the closest thing she’d had to foreplay in two years.

  Verbal foreplay was all it could ever be, Eve reminded herself. Anything more between them could destroy her career and everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.

  “I gave him the best years of my life!” Hearing the irate voice of Donavan’s client, Eve tucked her tongue in her cheek and narrowed her eyes. The glamorous Mrs. Langly was a classic beauty in her own right and could certainly put on a show. Curling one elegant hand around Donavan’s bicep, the seventy-five year old drama queen manipulatively dabbed a tissue to her eyes, which claimed the sympathy of her lawyer, forcing Donavan to break eye contact with Eve first. Thank God. One point for me.

  “Listen to that woman’s lies! She’s no better than I am, I assure you.” Arthur Langly, Eve’s client wrinkled his wide nose and scowled. “Are you going to let her feed them that bull? You’re my lawyer, do something!”

  “We don’t have the evidence to contradict her right now,” Eve replied in a cool tone then glanced at her wristwatch. Fifty minutes left. Already she’d pushed her luck asking Judge Bishop Marx for a one hour recess but then Eve was known to push boundaries. Perhaps that was why Arthur Langly hired her. Because she was known as a cut-throat, hard headed woman who hated to lose. Or maybe it was something less commendable and his wife was right—Langly was just an old pervert who liked the way Eve’s legs looked in a skirt.

  “Conference room A is this way,” Eve said, ushering Mr. Langly down the hall and away from the cameras. Putting some distance between Donavan and her was a good idea, too. “You can wait out the recess in there. It’ll keep the reporters at bay while I’m making a few calls.”

  Arriving at the door, Eve reached around and felt for the light switch. Slowly, Langly crept through the doorway. Even though there was plenty of room for him to go by, he just had to rub his boney frame up against her ass on the way in. Eve felt her gag reflex work. The old bastard certainly had nerve.

  Shaking off the sensation of his body slithering against hers, Eve gripped the doorknob. “I’ll be back shortly. Lock this after I leave in case any of the media vultures slip through the cracks.”

  “Wait! Um…can’t you stay and…keep me company?”

  Eve didn’t like the way his bushy eyebrows wagged or how his beady eyes were pinned to her legs. Clearing her throat, she clung to diplomacy.

  “I can’t stay. We’re running out of time, Mr. Langly. If that tape doesn’t show up in the next forty-five minutes, you’re going to be out a lot of money.”

  “Well, can you at least get me a glass of water? My throat is terribly parched.”

  Summoning patience, Eve sighed and headed for the water cooler on the far side of the room. Right. Langly was about to lose the majority of his assets for screwing half the stripper population in the metropolitan area, but he couldn’t get his own water. Shaking her head, Eve drew a paper cup from the dispenser then leaned over and began to fill.

  “Oh yeah, baby. That’s what Daddy likes.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Eve’s skin crawled as if a thousand ants were doing the cha-cha under her silk blouse. She hadn’t ran away from her drunken mother at the age of sixteen, then worked two jobs to put herself through law school just so she could wind up eye candy for some horny old fool.

  With the glass only half full, Eve straightened and crossed the room, all while trying to keep her temper in check.

  “Mr. Langly, let’s get one thing clear.” Eve shoved the paper cup into his wrinkled hand. “I didn’t take this case thinking I could disprove that you are a slimy little man who preys on vulnerable young women hard on their luck. I took this case thinking I could prove your wife is equally as slimy, and although I can’t begin to imagine how she possibly could be, my job is to protect your assets. I will do my job. But, don’t think for a second that you don’t disgust me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”

  On that note, with Langly’s mouth agape, she pivoted on her heels and strode straight for the exit. Reaching the door, she popped the lock and yanked it shut.

  “How does Daddy like me now? Asshole.” Smoothing her blouse, Eve gave her hair a triumphant flip then turned smack dab into a six-foot-two wall of lean muscle. Startled, she lost her footing and teetered backward. Before she hit the door, a pair of strong arms swooped around her. Warm. Firm. Powerful. Carver.

  “I have to say,” Donavan murmured, “you do keep a very unorthodox client-attorney relationship, Evelyn.”

  As he spoke, her gaze drifted to his lips. God, she loved his lips. They were smooth, firm, and she had no doubt he knew exactly how to use them. If she leaned forward an inch, she could taste them.

  Focus, Eve. Focus.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she wiggled out of his arms and stepped back to a safer distance where the heat of his rock hard body radiating through his suit wouldn’t wreak havoc with her mind…quite as much.

  “Counselor,” she acknowledged in a steady tone. “Done with your press interviews already? Or was your client’s bullshit getting a tad too thick even for you to stomach?”

  “Taking a break, actually. Harriet wanted to touch up her face before answering any more questions about her husband’s indiscretions—I didn’t see you at Eden last night,” he replied, smoothly changing the subject from business to pleasure. “You were sorely missed.”

  Eve arched an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe it or not, it’s the truth.” He reached for a runaway tendril escaping her professional up-do and gently tucked it behind her ear. The backs of his knuckles grazed her cheek as he withdrew and Eve’s tummy fluttered. A scalding wave of heat spread through her pussy. She clenched her teeth. Curse those magic hands, she thought dizzily as her body softened to his touch.

  Just to be stubborn, Eve gave her head a light shake so that the tendril he strategically placed fell back in front of her ear.

  Oh yes, that’ll show him! Congratulations, you’re in control of your own damn hair.

  “Were you with a man last night?” he boldly asked, seemingly unfazed by her evident defiance.

  Her mouth threatened to gape but she managed to keep it shut and produced a coy smile. “Now why on Earth would you ask me that?”

  “Petty jealously and vague curiosity. You’re a creature of h
abit and you haven’t missed a Cosmo-Wednesday in over a year. If it wasn’t hot sex keeping you from sucking back alcoholic syrup with Caitlyn, I’ll assume you were curled up on the sofa with a glass of Merlot, nose stuffed in a legal text.”

  Eve frowned. Was she so predictable? Slightly intrigued that he knew her so well, she lifted her chin and met his smiling gray eyes.

  “You’re right. I was working. I’m desperate to win this case. You wouldn’t believe the arrogant ass I’m up against in court.”

  An amused smile tugged at the corners of his handsome mouth and she felt herself softening further.

  “Besides,” she continued. “I was under the impression you were too busy with your submissive of the week to notice my absence. What was her name again? Ver-onica?”

  “Hmm, Veronica. Long story short, she wanted a collar and I’m not in the market for a permanent sub. With that being said, there’s a temporary vacancy. Interested?”

  Eve’s eyebrow arched higher. Apparently Arthur Langly wasn’t the only one with nerve today. Only Langly didn’t have the ability to affect her the way Donavan did. His bold style of flirting set her off balance and made her mind run wild with sinful possibilities.

  “You’ve got quite the set of balls on you, Carver.”

  “And a huge cock to go with them. You didn’t answer the question.”

  At the mention of his cock, Eve subtly squeezed her thighs together as heat swelled around her throbbing cleft. It took all her willpower not to let her gaze wander to the crotch of his slacks but with valiant effort, she managed to put her curiosity aside and slap on her game face. Fight fire with fire.

  Fearlessly, she stepped forward into the danger zone. Inches from him now, she pouted her lips seductively and smoothed her hands over the lapels of his suit jacket.

  “Huge cock or not,” she whispered, “I’ll have to decline. Us Mistresses have a thing against submitting control.”

  “Ah yes,” he said, staring at her mouth. “You keep saying you’re the one who likes to do the tying in the relationship. I still don’t see it. Something about you just doesn’t strike me as…Mistress-y.”

  That’s because I’m not a real Mistress. It’s merely a ruse to protect my professional reputation.

  Although she secretly harbored submissive tendencies, those tendencies were too dangerous to act on. It was hard enough to earn the respect of her peers as a female in her profession, let alone one who got off on being dominated. Mistresses, however, they were known not to take shit from anyone.

  For the most part, the rumor worked in her favor. Given she was a control freak concerning her work, pretending to get off on bossing men around didn’t seem to surprise people. In fact, they praised her for it. Donavan was the only person who had ever questioned the fib. Somehow, he sensed the real her. Eve was certain that was the primary reason she was so attracted to him. It was also the reason she needed to be very, very careful around him.

  “So, I suppose you’ll be bringing…Alfonso,” Donavan rolled his eyes, “to the masquerade this weekend.”

  Eve cringed. Alfonso was an unexpected result of the Mistress rumor. Some submissive men were harder to shake than Eve initially anticipated. The more she pretended to be the cruel Mistress who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, the more Alfonso clung to her.

  “I hadn’t planned on attending the masquerade. If I do go, it’ll be solo. That is unless you’d care to be on the end of my leash for the weekend,” she added, playing up her fake Mistress status.

  Laughter danced in his eyes. He leaned closer. His mouth ever so lightly brushed her ear. “Even if I believed your story about being a Mistress, which for the record I don’t, there’s about as much chance of me being on the end of your leash as there is of you winning this case.”

  At the stream of warm breath teasing the inside of her ear, her nipples drew tight beneath her blouse. Every nerve in her body tingled and hummed to life. Her eyes flitted open and closed several times before a sudden movement at the end of the hall sharpened her pupils and brought her back to reality.

  Marcy. Her assistant. The petite blonde flashed a video cassette tape and then a wide toothy grin. She had the tape.

  Straightening, Eve eased back from Donavan and looked him in the eye. “You really don’t think I can win this case?”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not without a miracle. The only way I see you walking away with a win is if you’re holding onto a key piece of evidence until the final act which wouldn’t make sense, you’d have used it already.”

  He was right. If she had the tape before the recess she would have used it, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think.”

  “I never said you were predictable,” he countered. “But you’re logical. There’d be no reason to drag out a case for a week with an ace up your sleeve.”

  “Not necessarily true. Maybe I’m allowing your client enough rope to hang herself because the end result will be more satisfying that way.”

  “That’s a big maybe.”

  At the challenge, Eve lifted her chin a measure while the wheels in her head nearly flew off their tracks. This could be her chance to finally put Donavan’s doubts about her being a Mistress to rest. “Care to make a friendly wager, then?”

  Donavan studied her thoughtfully. “I’ve been known to make a bet or two. What did you have in mind?”

  As if deep in thought, Eve tapped one freshly manicured fingernail against her lips. She wasn’t however. She knew exactly what she wanted.

  “All right, if I win this case, we will attend the masquerade together—ah,” Eve wagged her finger when he tried to interrupt. “But you will be my slave. You’ll peel me grapes, rub my feet, and if you’re lucky I might just let you fan me with one of those giant feathers.”

  For the first time in ages, Eve saw Donavan hesitate. It was only for a split second but it was there. Perhaps the stakes were just a bit too high for him.

  “And if you lose?” he asked, intrigue evident in his tone.

  There was no chance in hell of her losing now that she had the tape. Although it was underhanded to make a bet with an ace in the hole, he would never find out. No harm. No foul.

  “If I lose, I’ll willingly submit to you for the entire weekend.”

  His eyes narrowed and Eve’s pulse skipped a beat. Could he smell the bet was fixed? Did she look too eager? Too confident? Were her lips twitching and giving her lucky ace away?

  Her throat dried further as Marcy proudly clutched the tape to her chest and marched toward them. If Donavan spotted that cassette, he wouldn’t enter into a wager that could land him on his knees without seeing what was on the tape first. She needed his answer. Now.

  “What do you say, Carver?”

  With his scorching gaze hot enough to melt the buttons clean off her ivory blouse, Donavan scanned her from head to toe. He brought his eyes back to hers. “You got yourself a bet, counselor.”

  As they shook to confirm, his large hand swallowed her smaller one and she wondered if he could feel the rapid pulse throbbing through her fingers.

  “See you in court then.” Eve casually broke off their handshake and anxiously waited until Donavan disappeared back inside conference room B before bolting full speed toward Marcy.

  “Oh God, sorry I’m late, boss. I got here as soon as I could,” Marcy said, out of breath.

  The moment the sleek black cassette touched Eve’s fingers, a wave of triumph rushed through her. Now, she had the upper hand.

  Eve smiled. “Marcy, your timing was absolutely perfect.”

  ****

  Defeat had never tasted so bitter.

  Even a double shot of McKinley’s best scotch couldn’t dilute the taste that formed in Donavan’s mouth the moment Judge Bishop struck down his gavel in favor of Arthur Langly. By morning, the outcome of the case would be splashed across the pages of every tabloid in Los Angeles, alongside his self-respect.
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br />   He’d lost high profile cases before and bounced back. In time, the respect of his peers could be restored and his professional reputation wouldn’t take too much of a hit. Everyone knew that clients lied to their lawyers, and Harriet Langly had sure pulled a fast one on him. However, it wasn’t merely the backlash of the Langly case making his temples throb and his gut churn.

  His seductive adversary now owned his ass for the entire weekend.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a cruel Mistress,” she had whispered on her way out of the courtroom. “We’ll start slow. Maybe my first order will be for you to give me a nice long massage. I love a good massage.”

  Oh, he had no problem with her wanting him to put his hands all over that long luscious body. His cock throbbed with the thought. Since law school, he’d wanted to get his hands on Evelyn Morgan. She was clever, sassy, and just the right amount devious. Unfortunately, she also insisted that she was a Mistress. No doubt she would don him in shackles the first chance she got.

  “Fuck.” Donavan tossed back the last of his scotch then slammed the glass down hard against the bar. “Keep ’em coming. Hell, just leave the bottle.”

  “I hate to say this but getting drunk off your ass at four o’clock in the afternoon won’t change the fact that you made a stupid bet, lost, and now have to pay up, my friend.”

  Donavan slowly craned his neck left and glared. Evan Chambers, his oldest friend and confidant, occupied the stool next to him, offering a sympathetic wince.

  “Maybe not,” Donavan agreed. “But, with any luck I’ll drink myself into a coma so deep there’ll be no possible way Eve can expect me to follow through with our wager.” He picked up his refilled glass, tossed it back, and then clenched his teeth as it burned going down.

  “If I know Eve, and I think I do, there’s no way you’re getting out of this one.”

  Donavan scowled. Evan was right. He was always right.

  Evan had the ability to read people. That’s probably what made him such a successful business man. Seven years ago when Eden opened, Donavan wasn’t entirely convinced Evan had what it took to run his own business. Soon after, he realized that entrepreneur ran in Chamber’s blood.