A smug smile crossed Murphy's face, and he pulled hard on that chain. Jennifer tried to move her arms, but she had nowhere to go. Her breasts stretched, she flung her head back and her mouth opened wide on a long scream Eve heard clearly through the glass. Her own fingers pulled, and heat rushed through her, making her breasts tingle and her thighs ache.

For a few precious seconds, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and reveled in the ecstasy building inside her. When she finally blinked her eyes open, Murphy had picked up a small black whip and moved behind Jennifer. He spoke to the woman and she nodded, leaving Eve to wish she could hear them as well as see them. Was he coaxing her through the shoot with reassurances, or did the scene take on a more realistic tone with commands any Dom would issue a submissive?

Either way, when he flicked his wrist and the small tail of the whip hit her backside, Jennifer's entire body jerked against the restraints and her face registered shock. All of course captured by Chase's camera. Murphy swung again and again, and Eve stood mesmerized by the facial expressions of the model. If she wasn't really into what they were doing, then she should be an actress, because the pain and pleasure she experienced was written all over her face.

Chase picked up the chain between her breasts and tugged while Murphy continued to whip her. The bulge at the front of his jeans made it clear how turned on he'd become by the beautiful submissive as the scene progressed. Eve's own panties had soaked through, and she longed to remove them. Releasing her grip from one of her nipples, Eve slid her hand down her rounded stomach and into the waistband of her silk underwear. Moisture clung to the small patch of hair covering her sex, and the first glancing touch across her swollen clit made her legs tremble with need.

Everything logical said she should be offended by the scene in front of her, but clearly her body had a mind of its own. Suddenly the desire to be the one tied and standing helpless between Murphy and Chase consumed her faster than a flame to dry timber. She plunged two fingers between her sopping folds and into her wanting pussy. Rough and fast. God, how she needed more than fingers to fill her. Still, even at her own hand the visual of Chase and Murphy torturing the blonde beauty became too much.

She continued to thrust her fingers as the knot in her lower abdomen wound tight. She hovered on the precipice of release.

A sudden shrill ring sounded in her ear, and Eve froze in place.

An incoming call.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She had to take this. The phone rang in every room of the studio, and she had no idea whether Chase had turned his ringer off. She slid to the side, out of the window, and gulped for air. Her breathing had grown erratic, and a caller would not think her normal at the moment. After three rings she had no choice-either take the call or her ass would be grass when Chase finished his shoot. And in this economy she couldn't afford to lose her job.

She tapped the earpiece and said, "Altered Ego. This is Eve. How may I help you?" She cringed at the breathless tone of her voice while she slowly moved from the dressing area and in the direction of the restroom. She squinted against the bright lights after being in the darkness, making her way mostly by memory.

"I'd like to speak with Chase Miller," a snide female voice demanded.

"He's in the middle of a shoot and unavailable for calls. I could either take a message, or if there is anything I can help with..." She hoped not. She could barely talk as it was. Eve pushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She doubted anyone would be coming out of the studio anytime soon, but you never knew.

"I have a custom order for him. An urgent one."

"No problem. I can take the basic details and then send you the art form to be filled out. Although I'm not sure of Mr. Miller's availability. I would have to consult with him."

"No, no, it must be right away, but I'm certain once he finds out who his client is, it won't be a problem." The confident assistant annoyed her. A sure trait of the rich and famous and the select few who work for them.

"Okay. Then if you'd like to download the form from modelmayhem.com and submit it, I can be sure that Mr. Miller gets it as soon as he's finished with his current session." The loud sigh in her ear had Eve rolling her eyes.

"Fine. I will do that now and will expect a call back this afternoon, the moment Mr. Miller is free."

"Sure, no problem." The caller disconnected, and Eve pressed her earpiece to off.

Standing in front of the sink and mirror of the opulent bathroom Chase provided, she leaned heavily on her hands and gulped for air. A glance into the mirror was a stark reminder of exactly what she'd been up to. Her blouse was unbuttoned with her bra still pushed above her breasts, and her skirt sat bunched up around her waist. Thank God no one had walked into the receptionist area while she'd been peeping, or they'd have gotten an interesting eyeful when she'd answered the phone. Not like anyone familiar with Chase's fetish work would probably blink an eye though. A half-dressed woman around the studio was hardly uncommon.

She quickly washed her hands and put her clothes back to rights. But her hair had somehow become a disaster. She'd started to sweat, so some of it had plastered to the side of her face, and it generally looked a mess. She grabbed the makeup bag she left on the shelf and pulled out a brush and lipstick.

Having long hair came with a lot of work, but she felt that the red tresses were her best feature. Her friends often complimented her on it, along with the remark that if she'd just shed some of her weight, she'd be stunning. Eve stood back and studied her hips and thighs. Yes, she would never be called skinny, but she rather liked her curves. Why did everyone have to be so obsessed with being tiny? What the hell was wrong with healthy? She shrugged and hurried out of the bathroom. Not something she had time to worry about at the moment.

At her desk, she swiveled toward the computer and hit the button to bring up her e-mail, but her mind drifted back to the studio and the scene still going on. She never got to see the full details on most of the hard-core orders because Chase held them strictly confidential, but after what little she'd witnessed, her imagination had gone into overdrive. How far would they go? Did a custom order include fucking? The image of Murphy sliding his thick cock into Jennifer filled Eve's mind, and a groan slid from her mouth, which she quickly smothered with her hand.

Get it together before you find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.

Eve's e-mail popped up, and she took the distraction for what it was and scrolled through some of the junk to delete what she didn't need. The rest she filed to look at later when her brain wasn't mush. A new e-mail from the Web site popped open, and the subject line read: Urgent Custom Order No doubt from the caller who'd hung up on her a mere five minutes ago.

Curious, she clicked it open to find out more. As she expected, the order stated it came from a Mr. Smith. It wasn't uncommon for some of Chase's clients not to divulge their names on their paperwork. In those instances, he would take their private information directly. She scrolled through the particulars such as time of delivery, type of film, settings, and down to the model information.

Model must be redheaded and of a plus-size nature with full breasts.

Eve nearly choked on her sip of coffee. In all the orders she'd taken, no one had ever asked for a plus-size model. Whoever the mystery customer was, she already liked him. A larger woman would be a refreshing change around here. She clicked to forward the message to Chase and went back to the rest of her e-mails. If she focused on her work, maybe she'd be able to get her mind off the scene she'd spied on at least long enough to get through the rest of the day.

When she got home, all bets were off, and her vibrator would get the workout of its life. A wicked smile tugged at her lips. She desperately wanted to know more about Chase's and Murphy's private lives. Sure she knew a lot about their fetishes, but how deep into the BDSM scene did they go? Her pathetic and limited experience left her a little green, but mostly because she found it difficult to define her own needs, let alone find a Dom to click with.

So much of the local scene seemed to revolve around playing roles. Master and slave. Simply thinking the words made her pussy clench. Maybe one day she'd figure it out...understand how to be what a master sought.

"Eve."

She jumped at the sound of her name. So lost in her thoughts she'd not heard Chase approach her desk. Her breath quickened and her pulse sped up from the one simple word. She lifted her lashes and looked at him through hooded eyes she prayed didn't look guilty. Because right now she felt like a naughty girl who'd just been busted. Thank God she'd refrained from touching herself again.

"This new order. Did you talk to them when they called?"

She nodded. Mesmerized by the shade of green reflected in his gaze. In his case, eyes weren't windows to the soul. They were the microscope that saw into her thoughts. As if somehow he'd noticed her spying on him, or that the moment he said her name, renewed arousal dampened her panties, and he damned well knew it.

"Did they say who this was for?"

"No, but I did get the impression it was for someone pretty important. The woman was quite confident that you'd be willing to fill this order as quickly as they wanted." She tried not to fidget, but it was impossible to sit still with him looking at her with such intensity.

"That's too bad because as intriguing as this shoot would be, I'm going to have to turn this one down."

Damn. Even the tight frown of his lips turned her on. She'd give anything to trace the shape of his mouth, to explore every line.

"Why?"

"No model that fits the requirements. It's often hard enough to find a redhead for a hard-core shoot. But a plus-size model? No way."

"What about me? I could do it." Eve clamped her hand over her mouth, shocked she'd blurted the offer out loud. Still, she'd made the offer, and she held her breath waiting for his response.

His eyes narrowed and he stared into her gaze. Searching for something maybe. Her neck warmed with the humiliation that crept through her.

"Come here," he demanded gruffly.

Worried, she moved from behind the reception desk and stood in front of him. Not squirming while he looked at her from head to toe proved impossible as she shifted from one foot to the other. He went back to staring into her eyes and she found it nerve-racking to hold his gaze. Too scared to keep up the pretense, she shifted her gaze to the floor and the black patent four-inch spike heels she had on. The skirts and blouses she wore every day might shout boring, but her shoes were 100-percent hooker.

She'd learned to wear clothes that didn't draw attention to her curves, only her cleavage, and she used her hair and shoes to further distract. Still, standing in front of Chase with the aid of extra height still left her feeling small. The top of her head might reach his chin. She'd guess he stood at least six feet three, if not taller. He simply dwarfed her. And for the first time in her life, she loved being short. It seemed to give him a sense of power over her.

"No." The blunt word shocked her. She stood speechless and rooted to her spot while he turned and walked back to his studio. No explanation, no further discussion, just no.

She fought the tears that threatened to fall as his abrupt rejection filtered through her thoughts. Eve looked at the front door and back at the studio Chase had disappeared into. She'd made the biggest fool of herself with no rock to crawl under.

She wasn't good enough for Chase Miller. The first tear splashed on her cheek and she ran for the exit.

Chapter Two.

Chase sat heavily in his desk chair and scrubbed his face with his hands. Dear God save him. The woman he'd allowed Murphy to hire for reception pushed every single button he possessed. From the first minute he'd laid eyes on her, he wanted her gone. So much so she'd become his obsession. A fact getting harder and harder to hide.

He thought of her day and night. Startling blue eyes that watched him with unadulterated lust every time he walked in the room. Gorgeous red hair down to her ass and what an ass it was. He itched to bend her over his bench and spank it.

But it was her skin that mesmerized him. Pale and covered in freckles. Chase wanted to play connect the dots with his tongue and discover if every inch of her was covered by the sexy little spots. His imagination got the best of him when he thought endlessly of striping her ass and legs after he'd tied her up, of course.

There were various scenarios of predicament bondage he'd dreamed up for her. The kind of scene where the slightest movement became impossible and likely painful. The inner sadist in him smiled. She'd look sexy as hell tied in his ropes with Murphy on one side and him on the other. His cock twitched at the thought.

The photo shoot had wound him up and Eve's offer was enough to make him forget her innocence. He'd spotted her submissive needs on day one, but no way in hell did she have the kind of knowledge and experience he needed in a girl. Oh but the temptation unnerved him. It wasn't as if he didn't have the patience to teach her. To guide her through her submission and into the role as his personal submissive.

The door opened roughly and Murphy strode in. "What the hell happened with Eve?"

"What do you mean?"

"She just ran out of the office and I could have sworn I saw tears." He dropped onto the couch across the room and turned that suspicious gaze his way.

"She volunteered for the latest Smith commission." Chase picked up the form he'd printed and handed it over to Murphy. A minute later a long, low whistle sounded from his friend.

"Damn."

"Yeah, exactly." Chase leaned his chair to a near-reclining position and brushed the hair from his face. He was about three weeks past due for a haircut and it wouldn't stay out of his eyes.

"Did she have any idea what she was asking for?"

"Probably not. She's asked a lot of questions since she arrived and we've both been completely honest with the extent of what we do here, but I doubt our little submissive wannabe has any real clue of what she'd be getting herself into."

"Not to mention you've got the worst hard-on for her."

Chase looked sharply at his friend. "Fuck you, man. I've seen you staring at her rack every chance you get. You're lucky she hasn't called sexual harassment on your ass."

"Me? Please. I'm not the one on the verge of biting her head off because you want in her pants so bad you can't think straight half the time." Murphy pulled himself from the couch and paced the length of the room. "I say we give her a chance. Show her the contract. If that doesn't scare her off, then maybe you're wrong about her."

"Easy for you to say. You just fucked your brains out."

"You know I can't resist a woman who begs. And she'd have been happy to service you as well. Jennifer is a sweet little professional subbie."

Chase tried to shake the images his camera captured today. A photographer was the ultimate voyeur and while he knew how to maintain control, this long dry spell he'd put himself through had begun to take its toll. It was time to head to the club and begin a new search. Someone there would surely make him stop thinking about a certain bewitching little receptionist who dared him to take her with a guileless look.

"You can't resist any subbie. You're such a fucking horndog."

"Yeah, and since when is that a bad thing? You're either getting uptight in your old age or it's time for you to examine why this woman is under your skin."

Chase hated it when his friend was right. "Was she really crying when she left?" He loved to see a woman in tears, but not from his rejection. He'd rather see her writhing in his restraints, alternating between crying her eyes out and begging him to fuck her. His half-hard dick swelled more.

"Yeah, I was ready to run after her until you told me the deal. Since I'm not the one who rejected her, I think she needs to hear it from you."

Professionally he should stay the hell away from her. Personally he couldn't let her go. Not without talking to her.

With any luck, he'd explain what would be required of her and she'd run for the hills. There were reasons he didn't do hard-core shoots with amateurs. They were strenuous and fraught with high emotional impact. Not everyone could handle it.

"Chase, stop thinking about it and just talk to her. Not everything in this lifestyle has to fit your rigid standards."

"Don't give me-"

"Just fucking talk to her."

Chase stared at the rundown apartment building in front of him and compared it to the address he'd hastily written on his notepad. The fact they matched stunned him. Why the hell did Eve live in a place like this? He pressed the lock button on his car remote and approached the building cautiously. The neighborhood didn't seem safe, much less the structure she lived in.

According to the address she provided she lived on the second floor. Chase opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a horrid smell. A mixture of pine cleaner and old. At least someone had given a halfhearted attempt to mask the fact this place threatened to crumble at any moment.

He gave a sideways glance to the elevator and decided against it. The stairs had to be a better choice. The open-to-the-outside stairwell did improve his opinion marginally as he took two steps at a time. In fact when he reached the landing he could have sworn he'd walked into a different building altogether.

Eve's door was the first on the right and he gave it a hard knock. He had half a mind to drag her out of here and find somewhere safe for her to live. Like his condo. The crazy thought formed before he had a chance to stop it. No way. Talk about your bad ideas with a capital fucked-up.

He heard noises from within the space and waited as patiently as possible for her to open the door.

"Chase, what do you want?" Her muffled question sounded through the door. Guess the peephole works.

"I'd like a few minutes of your time."

"No."

Her quick and abrupt answer brought a smile to his face. Turnabout was certainly fair play with this one. "C'mon, Eve, give me a chance to explain. I am still your employer after all."

The only response he got was metal sliding on metal and a few seconds later she yanked the door open a few inches, a safety chain crossing in front of her face.

"I pretty much figured after I walked out today, my job would be gone."

She'd scrubbed her face clean of makeup and she wore a simple spaghetti-strap tank top and yoga-style pants that gently hugged the curves of her hips and legs. Without those insanely sexy shoes she wore every day he noticed how short she really was. Instead of looking like a child, her clean face and simple clothes gave him a sense of sweet vulnerability. Now he wished he'd brought his camera.

"Is that what you want? To quit?" Chase shouldered the door and moved closer. "Let me come in for a few minutes so we can talk about it." If she really wanted to leave, then he finally had his way out of the torture he'd suffered. He could simply walk away now and be done with the whole mess. He'd go to the club tonight and find a willing play partner and go from there.

You don't want her to go. Chase's mocking statement haunted him.

She looked unsure. The slight narrowing of her eyes and the tiny purse of her mouth gave her thoughts away. Patience. He normally had it in spades and he could employ it here. Let her make the decisions for now. Come to him. It couldn't be any other way. For the shoot or anything else he had to ensure her trust. Nothing could be more important.

After a few minutes of their showdown, she relented, closing the door and unfastening her security chain. Chase never understood why people put any faith into those silly lightweight mechanisms. It took nothing to push the door and make it break. A woman living alone in a neighborhood like this needed far better security. This may not be New York City but that didn't mean women weren't attacked or worse. He added that to his running mental list of things he needed to get done.

When she opened the door she stood back and motioned with her hand for him to enter. He bit back the satisfied smile as he envisioned this the first win in the many battles of will to come. Murphy was right. He wasn't about to let her go.