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His? God, if only… “Excuse me?Yours?”
“I don’t have time to explain right now. Let me get dressed, and I’ll give you the collar and escort you out.”
“No. You’ll explain right now. You’re going to explain to me why I can’t go out alone and walk through the club to the door and exit.”
“Because any Dom who sees you uncollared—”
“I really hate the term ‘collar.’ It sounds like you want to lead me around on a leash like a dog.”
He doesn’t reply at first.
“Oh my God. Youdo.”
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t have any desire to lead anyone around on a leash. A collar simply designates that you’re taken. That you’re the property of—”
“Property? What the hell, Jackson?”
“Not like ownership or anything. But in a place like this, if you’re not collared or accompanied by a Dom of your own, any Dom in the club will think it’s okay to approach you.”
“So what if someone approaches me? My safety was guaranteed here. Remember?”
“I know, but some of these Doms can be very persuasive, Mandy.”
I set my hands on my hips. “And you think I don’t have the ability to say no?”
“No. That’s not it. This is all coming out wrong.” He shakes his head again. “Just let me get my pants on, and I’ll put the collar on you and take you out. Okay? Would you do that one thing for me?”
I finally relent. But not without a sarcastic scoff.
Jackson dons his jeans, and I can’t help checking out his ass both before and after. The man has one tight ass. I swear to God, he must’ve been carved in heaven by angels.
I try not to look at him too wistfully.
He takes a velvet ribbon from his pocket and Velcros it around my neck. He escorts me then, his arm around me at all times, as we leave the private room, walk down the hallway, and enter the main room where the dance floor and bar are.
Only a few couples are dancing now, as it’s later.
We walk through the entryway, where Jackson says goodbye to Claude, who appears to be the bouncer, and then we’re in a hallway. A simple hallway.
“I’m supposed to blindfold you again so you don’t know where the entrance is.”
“I already know what building it’s in,” I say.
“I know. I can trust you, Mandy. You won’t tell anyone you were here and what’s in the basement floor of this building.”
I shake my head. “Of course I won’t. I signed the NDA.”
“I know that.” He fixes the blindfold over my eyes. “This is…”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He leads me toward the door, and then we ascend the staircase. A few twists and turns later, we enter the back of the bar, and he removes the blindfold.
“I’ll just grab a cab,” I say.
“No. I’ll take you home.”
“That’s not necessary—”
