Legally Bound

Legally Bound

by

Rynne Raines

Chapter
One

The double doors of the courtroom opened into a
sea of reporters and quick-finger photographers hailing from the Times, Daily
News, and every tabloid magazine in the city eager to get first scoop on the
highest profile divorce case in Los Angeles. And, Eve Morgan stood center stage
of it all.

Well, nearly center stage.

With three-hundred and fifty million dollars at
stake, Langly vs. Langly would go down as the biggest case of her legal career.
Walking away victorious meant newspapers quoting her and competing law firms
clamoring for her. Finally, being one-up on her handsome rival, Donavan Carver,
was the icing on the cake.

Flash after flash assaulted Eve’s eyes but
through the little white spots dancing around her head she watched Donavan
usher his client toward the cluster of reporters gathered behind the security
barrier.

Carver always did look good on camera, Eve noted
with a twinge of envy. Although he was tall and lean, blessed with broad
shoulders and a stubborn, sculpted jaw most movie stars would kill for, those
weren’t the only reasons why the cameras and the Press loved him. His stance
alone commanded respect. Even as the media jabbed hand-held recorders and
microphones toward his face, he kept his annotations crisp and clean, exuding
poise. He dominated an interview like he dominated his lovers, with unwavering
confidence and a firm yet skillful hand.

As he answered question after question shouted by
the Press, Eve’s gaze unwillingly skimmed the length of his masculine body. The
suit he was wearing didn’t do him justice. Under his finely woven polyester
jacket and well-fitted dark slacks was the body of a Grecian God. This much she
knew. At the moment, part of her wished she didn’t.

By day Donavan might don a suit and tie and carry
a briefcase. By night, however, he sported a pair of leather pants that hugged
his tight ass to perfection and wielded a flogger, a set of handcuffs, and a
blindfold.

Oh yes, Donavan Carver was the crème de la crème
of Doms who frequented Eden—the fetish club her best friend’s husband owned. On
several occasions when she met Caitlyn for drinks, she’d spotted Donavan there,
surrounded by a harem of scantily clad women vying for his attention. Most
nights he would single one out from the flock and disappear with them inside
one of Eden’s secluded pleasure rooms.

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 habit 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.