A slow smile curves Adam’s lips. Elegant fingers run the length of the chain to stop at the collar. Without looking up, his other hand lifts and beckons you forth with a crook of his finger. It never occurs to him that you will not obey.
He is fascinating. Irresistible. She doesn’t understand this pull, can’t refuse the temptation. One step, then two, then she’s at his side, silent, obedient. Everything seems to be in abeyance until the collar is locked about her neck — feelings, reactions — her will is somehow his now.
She lifts a hand to brush the chain, where it’s locked to the headboard.
Eyes dark and distant, he stares down at her, hands clasped at his back. Finally he snorted. “So quickly you come to heel. I had hoped for some fight, some spirit. Ah well. One cannot always be so lucky I suppose.”
Walking around the bed, he took in her form from all angles. “Hands in your lap,” he barked once, tired of watching her fidget with the chain rather than focus on her Master.
The spell — if spell it was — shattered as the collar settled around her throat. A shiver shook her body. What had she just done? Even as her hand lifted to scrabble at the collar, he spoke, and she dropped them back.
Despite the desire to simply bow to his wishes — the word ‘master’ flashed across her mind — she kept her eyes on him.