Mr. Sir (Ball & Chain) by Jayne Kingston Read Free Book Online Page B

little. In truth, she wanted to weep with gratitude at the sight of their gorgeous new playroom.
    “Because you helped in here as I asked, you’ll be rewarded.” Owen stood, pulling himself up tall and straight, looking at her down the length of his nose. “Unless you keep running that mouth of yours,” he warned.
    She shivered. It had been so long. It had been way too freaking long since she’d seen the look on his face, and she wanted it more than anything else in the entire world.
    He ran his fingers through the hair draped over her shoulder, letting the strands slide between them. “How long did it take you to get all dolled up like this?” he asked wrapping the end of a curl around his finger.
    “I don’t know,” she told him, adding the slightest bit of annoyance into her voice.
    “Take a guess,” he said, trailing the end of the curl across her jaw and down her neck. “Pretty please.” The smile he gave her was ice cold.
    It made her blood burn hot. “An hour,” she answered, crossing her arms.
    “All that work for nothing.” He shook his head, his expression sympathetic. His hand dipped into his pocket. “Put your hair up and strip,” he ordered, a hair elastic between his fingers when his hand reemerged.
    “Owen, the Millers only have the boys for a couple of hours,” she started, then stopped at the look on his face.
    “The boys are at the Millers’ until morning.” He took her jaw firmly in his hand and leaned in so his face was close to hers. “Now I suggest you do as I say.”
    Her heart skipped several beats. Electric heat zipped throughout her entire nervous system. Her stomach filled suddenly with skittish butterflies even as her nipples drew up tight and her pussy heated in anticipation.
    She stared up into those cool blue eyes of his just long enough to make his nostrils flare at her challenge, then she dropped her lids and lowered her gaze. She could see the quick expand and contract of his breath in his chest as the rush of beginning play, real play, washed through him.
    She felt it too, the frightening thrill of not knowing what the hell was going to happen, but eager for whatever it was he had in mind.
    Grace let her fingers brush over his as she took the rubber band from him and he slapped her hand down. She smiled inwardly at both the sting and getting a reaction from touching him when he hadn’t yet allowed her.
    “Sorry, Sir,” she whispered, letting her gaze drift lower down his body, knowing he couldn’t see where she was looking from his vantage point high above her.
    She stopped just sort of moaning at the sight of his cock, already hard and straining to be free of his jeans. She wanted to drop to her knees, rip open his fly and take him in her mouth. She loved the feel, the taste of him. She loved the way he moaned, low and deep in his chest, when she got it just right.
    “Hair,” he snapped, and turned away from her.
    Grace gathered her hair high on her head and twisted it into a messy knot to get it out of the way. She quickly reached back and unzipped the dress she’d just put on. As she stepped out of it and draped it over the arm of the chair on her left, Owen turned with her collar in his hand.
    A jolt of pure desire ripped through her. She lifted her eyes to his to show him how much the appearance of her collar was affecting her, and he arched an eyebrow at her.
    “Out of practice, aren’t we?” he asked, darkly playful. He snapped his fingers and she dropped her gaze once more. “I think someone needs to be reminded of the rules.”
    He moved around behind her, reaching in front of her to fasten her collar around her neck. A sliver of panic shoved its way under her ribs, causing her breath to come in short gasps as the lock clicked in place. Owen gave the wide leather a quick, painless jerk backward, fully getting her attention.
    “You do not look at me until I give you permission.” His voice was ominous, his breath hot on her ear. “You do not