Lyon on a Leash (7 page)

The excitement of the auction swelled with each man dancing, trying to outdo the man before him. Hips gyrated, bodies glistened, and cocks swung in abandon. No question this was a raunchy, no-holds-barred event. The women touched, pinched, slapped, and stroked the men as they strode through the crowd.

One daring man grabbed her hand, pulling her up to bump and grind. One of the older Dommes jumped up and sandwiched the muscular man between the two of them. Vera laughed as the sixty-something women spanked, fondled, and teased the sub while they danced. Needless to say, the older woman purchased him with little bidding competition.

Age mattered little in this venue. The older women received lap dances with enthusiasm and handled the men’s delicate bits with a mastery Vera hadn’t seen in years. It had been a long time since Vera had laughed so hard, or had so much fun watching the antics of the men and the women. One man galloped around the room like a pony until a woman wearing a cowboy hat threw her rope around him and pulled him close to her. Another man, dressed in a pretty dress, rocked five-inch heels while giving one of the women closer to the stage an impromptu massage. The woman’s loud moans had Vera wondering what else the man did with his hands. No one was surprised when the woman purchased the sissy.

Throat dry, Vera searched for a bottle of water. The butler walked over when she caught his attention. “Yes, madam?”

“I need a bottle of water, unopened please.” He nodded.

When she turned, her mouth dropped. Marcus strolled across the stage with his sexy gait and those witches were bidding on him. Not that she blamed them. The half-smile he wore hinted he knew something every woman in the room needed to know. If the kiss between the two of them was any indication, she planned on being the only woman to discover that secret.

Her heart raced and for a moment, she just stared. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach as she realized how sexy the man was. The program pictures hadn’t captured his raw, masculine appeal. She’d been so happy he was nicely dressed and could speak in full sentences when they’d first met; the full impact of his manliness hadn’t slammed into her then as it did now.

“Three thousand,” the blond woman in the shiny catsuit called. Vera recognized her as the woman who’d watched him eagerly before—and as the set of hostile, blue eyes who’d gazed at her earlier.

She twisted her neck from side to side, pushing the thought of him stripping down to his boxers from her mind.
Later
. She’d have him do that later. Right now she had to handle her business. These women were bidding on her man.

“Thirty-five hundred,” another called.

She looked up at him.

She’d swear ’til Jesus came he begged her with his eyes to take him home with her. At least that’s how she interpreted the tiny smile he sent her.

“Five thousand,” Vera said.

His eyes widened but his steps never faltered.
Cocky brat
. He pulled off his coat, flung it behind his back, and walked across the stage with a boyish grin that sent heat to her core. Pert nipples tented his shirt as it stretched tight across his muscular chest. Her mouth dry, she followed every flex of his muscled arms and chest. The man was fine and he was going to be hers.

“Fifty-five hundred,” the shiny catsuit woman said with a bite in her tone.

Vera crossed her arms and tapped her lip as she narrowed her eyes at Marcus. He didn’t dance, shake his ass, or shimmy like the others. Not once did he come into the audience to allow anyone to pull his cock or slap his ass. This was a man who knew he was worthy. The silence in the room grew. Madame Chertier looked around the room with a pleased smile.

Marcus’ eyes shifted between Vera and the other woman.
Not so cocky now, huh
?

“Six thousand,” Vera said, pleased to see the relief in his eyes. Her heart swelled with the knowledge he wanted her to win him.

“Sixty-five-fucking hundred.” There was no mistaking the anger in the other woman’s voice as she stood and glared at Vera.

Returning the glare, she waited until the witch returned to her seat. Marguerite had said no fighting. That was cool as long as blond-ie-locks acted like she had some sense.

Vera had no idea why the woman wanted Marcus, but her reason didn’t trump Vera’s. A generous amount of her time had already been invested. Through research, she knew his mama and daddy’s names, where he’d grown up, where he went to church, where he’d gone to college, and a lot more. The auctioneers had been thorough but she’d done some independent exploring. The decision to take him home wasn’t new. She’d been preparing for this moment for months and no sadistic bitch was going to interfere with her plans.

Not when she was this close.

“Seven thousand,” Vera said, keeping her features relaxed while wondering if she should’ve just gone ahead and bid ten to stop the BS. But her grandmamma always said she needed to have more patience. It wasn’t often she employed the older woman’s teachings, but whenever she did, things seemed to work out for the best.

“Fuck it, you got him. I can get a couple for that,” the other woman growled ungraciously.

Holding his gaze, Vera smiled while mentally sending the other woman the bird. “He’s worth it.” The smile that lit Marcus’ face promised he was prepared to show his gratitude. She winked, letting him know she planned for him to do just that.

Wicked elation raced through her. She’d stepped out of her comfort zone, kissed a stranger, well…a known stranger. She’d purchased the services of a handsome stud for the next twenty-four hours, although she hoped to make it more. Plus, she’d stood and fought for what she wanted amongst some of the most dominant women she’d met in a long time.

None of her former lovers would believe she allowed a man she didn’t know hold her close and rub his hardness on her while he was being spanked from behind. They’d thought she was too uptight and lacked spontaneity. Talk about behaving outside the box. If it wouldn’t have made her look juvenile, she’d do a happy dance. Mentally, she checked another thing off her list.

She waved at Ada.

The woman beamed as she approached. “Yes, Mistress Rose?”

“Is there a place where he and I can continue talking, away from the noise of the auction?” Now that she had her man, she wanted privacy. The auction was officially over for her and him.

Ada nodded. Her eyes sparkled as she watched Marcus walk toward them. “Yes, the buffet area is right through here. I’ll have Francis escort you.”

“Thank you,” Vera said, standing.

Marcus looked thunderstruck. She realized he must have been putting on a show on stage.

“Marcus?”

He looked at her with unfocused eyes.

“Follow me.” She followed Francis down the hall into another room that was set up with tables and chairs. There was an area to the side for dancing. A man was on stage fiddling with equipment. Uniformed waiters prepared the buffet table and stared at them when they entered.

Francis held up his hand. “They are here with my Mistress’ permission.” Security nodded and the waiters continued scurrying about with their duties.

Francis held a flat box toward her. “His collar.”

She took a deep breath as she accepted the black box. Butterflies filled her stomach as she took it. Her confidence faltered. Marguerite’s words haunted her. She really had no experience with this aspect of the lifestyle. “Thank you.”

He nodded and walked out.

Exhaling, she pulled off the lid. A sparkly gold choker lay on some creamy satin material. She removed it and allowed it to dangle from her fingertips. When she’d been a Dominatrix, a lot of her clients enjoyed wearing a collar during their sessions. They enjoyed being led around with a leash as she popped them with her crop or used her paddle to correct their behavior.

But this…this was different. Marguerite had been right on that score. This collar wasn’t for an hour-long session, it could be the beginning of so much more. The look in Marcus’ eyes said this was no game, not for him. That alone made the stakes so much higher.

Without prompting, Marcus kneeled and looked up at her. A giddy, tingly feeling settled in her belly as she met his expectant gaze. She suspected she should say something. Of course, nothing witty or profound came to mind. After unclasping the collar, she bent forward to place it around his neck.

“This collar signifies that you are mine for the rest of this event. My hope is that one day soon you’ll wear my permanent collar.”

When she finished, he swallowed hard. “That is my hope as well, Mistress.” He stood and held the chair for her. “How may I serve you?”

It took her a moment to switch gears after she sat down. “I’d like a bottle of water, unopened.”

He nodded and walked off.

Vera watched him move with deliberation to one of the waiters. A fluttery sensation started in the pit of her stomach before radiating upward as the ramifications of what she had just done hit home.

Her first true collar.

As she tracked his movements, she understood Marguerite’s admonitions. Experience in wielding a whip, designing a play session, or fulfilling a fantasy did not translate into the makings of a lifestyle Mistress. For one thing, in the role of a professional, Marcus would’ve left by now and she wouldn’t be wondering what they’d do later tonight or tomorrow morning.

“Here you are, ma’am.” Marcus placed the bottle of water in front of her with a couple napkins on the side. The low timbre of his voice touched off a spark in her. She ached to play with him, to unwrap her shiny new toy and show him what his voice did to her. Instead, she opened her water and took a long pull to cool the heat rising in her core. “Thank you. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Just a snack.” He stared at her and then looked at the floor. The flake of gold on the collar winked in the overhead light. “You do realize you paid more for me than anyone so far tonight. There’s always been an unspoken limit of five-thousand dollars because of all the other fees. I’m flattered but I’m also curious.” His whiskey-colored eyes searched hers before he leaned back in his chair.

She licked her lips, trying to decide what and how much to say.

His eyes tracked her tongue before he looked up at her.

“I read your profile before I flew to New York. Based on what I read and your pictures, I chose you and another guy to interview. You had everything I wanted in a submissive. Handsome, intelligent, Alpha qualities. I talked with the other sub first. It didn’t work out. Once you and I started talking, I knew I didn’t want to risk losing you.” She breathed deeply as she laid it on the line. “There was only one way to be sure I got you, at least for the next few days. But you should know I came here looking for a sub to return with me to Atlanta.” She ended the last words softly, with a smile.

He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems so…like it’s not enough to say after that. But I will do everything within my power to live up to your level of certainty. Besides, I’ve always liked Atlanta.”

Of course you do.
“I noticed on your profile you didn’t mention sex. Does that mean you don’t want to have it?”

His brow dipped slightly. “Mistress, my profile was written outside of the parameters of a twenty-four-seven relationship. Primarily it deals with taking me home to do something for you, the premise being I’d ultimately leave and return.”

“So you expect sex?”

His darkened eyes met hers. “In time, yes, ma’am.”

“And if I refuse?”

He pressed his lips tight together before releasing a long breath. It was obvious he was in turmoil. “Then in all honesty I couldn’t accept the position. It would be a lie to agree to never engage in sex again.” He spoke in a somber tone as he stood, no doubt thinking she’d renege.

There was not a chance in hell she’d let him get away. She recognized it had taken a lot for him to say what he had. “Sit down, Marcus.”

He sat. It took a moment for him to meet her gaze. When he did, his eyes were clear, resigned. Looking at him, her chest squeezed painfully. That was a bolt from the blue.

Leaning forward, she grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close so their lips were inches apart. Trust, that critical but elusive thing, had to begin somewhere. Maintaining eye contact, she spoke from her heart. “Never lie to me, no matter what it costs you. I have to trust what you say and do. Lying will destroy that trust and anything we build on it.” She released him and patted his lapel back into place.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“I know. That’s why I told you to sit down.” She waited until he realized the importance of her words.

He blinked a couple of times before the sobriety of his face broke and the beginnings of a smile emerged. “Thank you, Mistress.” His smile widened until it reached his eyes. Her chest expanded. Making him happy felt good.
Damn good
.

Vera stood and shrugged off her jacket. Before she could get one arm out, he assisted her and held it over his arm. “When they open the buffet, fix a plate for yourself first. Later you’ll fix me a small plate. I want you fed before the other Mistresses get here and we start talking. You stay with me unless I tell you to leave, understand?” The woman who bid on him would be around and Vera didn’t want her pulling on him.