Young, Allyson - Madness [Club Pleasure 2] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Allyson Young

  He kept saying that, saying that he wanted to care for her. Olivia had been the caregiver during all of her adult life. This felt strange yet welcome, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to trust it. He probably did this with all his women, all his casual subs. When Cameron carefully smoothed a large dollop of the topical anesthetic over her clitoris, Olivia fought the arousal that accompanied the soothing sensation. Oh God, she couldn’t, simply couldn’t do this again for so many reasons. He pushed a finger up inside of her and found that special spot as he whispered another finger over her clit. Olivia suddenly climaxed and gave herself up to the pleasure. She vaguely considered through the haze of gratification that, unless she could keep her distance, Cameron was going to keep her from processing this thing between them. And when he tired of her, she would be devastated. Somehow she needed to push him away, but lost as she was in the gentle, empty clenching of her sex as she came down, the wherefores of that task eluded her.

  “Olivia.” Cameron was talking to her again. “Never refuse a reasonable request from me again. You won’t like the consequences.”

  Olivia closed her eyes. She couldn’t let him do this to her. He wasn’t kidding when he said he said he was dominant. He wore his dominance like a mantle. She gathered the last of her strength and resolve and rolled quickly away to the other side of the bed and heaved herself to her feet, her heart feeling heavier than her body.

  “Please leave, Cameron,” she begged. “Please.”

  “I can’t, honey,” he replied. “If I do, before we talk, you will shut me out and convince yourself that we are a bad idea. We haven’t even started.”

  Olivia felt her knees go weak, and she let herself fall to them, then canted to one side and slipped down to the carpet, curling inward, finally folding her arms around herself. He was going to take everything and leave her with nothing. She let the tears flow and shut out the anxious sound Cameron made. He plucked her up and cuddled her against him as he sat down in the single upholstered chair. He rocked her and muttered nonsensical sounds against her hair. She simply wept and sobbed and did her best to hold some part of her from him.

  * * * *

  Cameron rocked his woman and comforted her as best as he could. She was trying really hard to withhold. That he knew. What he didn’t understand was why. She was angry with him. He had put that together after thinking about it during their hours apart, and he thought he understood why. But it didn’t explain why she was so scared. Last night had probably been overwhelming for her but had been immensely freeing and insightful, too, for both of them. He could not have mistaken her response to him, and he could give her everything she needed sexually. But he wanted to give her more. He wanted to become her best friend, her confidante. He wanted everything for himself that he hoped to give her. They had forever to pursue this. She would be sharing with him in the next while, no matter how she resisted. He had been wrong once about her best interest, and he wasn’t about to compound his error. When Olivia’s sobs quieted and her tears ceased to soak his shirt, Cameron mopped her face and held the tissues for her to blow her nose and spoke to her, quietly, but firmly.

  “Olivia, honey, you need to tell me what’s going on. I can’t fix it unless you do.”

  He waited for her to respond, but she said nothing. Cameron was at a loss. Should he give her time or push her? Every instinct was screaming for him to insist that she tell him.

  “I can take the choice away, Livy, if that would help. If that’s what you need.”

  Olivia jerked upright in his arms, her beautiful face still stained with tears, her nose red and her eyes puffy.

  “What do you mean by that?” Her voice, although thick with emotion, was cold. “I don’t owe you anything. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  Cameron sighed. His girl had fallen back into that reserved, safe style of relating to him. Withholding.

  “You do, sweetheart. You are mine, Olivia, and everything about you is my business.”

  He was unprepared for her immediate reaction. She slipped through his arms to the floor and rolled away, coming to her feet in one fluid motion of naked grace. The bathroom door closed and locked behind her before he could get up from the chair. Cameron smiled and stretched. He spent several moments thinking warm thoughts of their future. Olivia was full of contradictions and he was going to spend the rest of their lives exploring them. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, and when she came out, she would discover that her things were packed and residing in his suite. He’d leave her the robe to wear when she made the journey there herself. Except a large man was stepping into the room and speaking into a radio in his hand.

  “The intruder is still here. I’ll wait for backup.”

  Cameron snapped out of his daydream. The little wench had called security, and he was in shit. He opened his mouth to explain and then realized that the broken chain on the door spoke volumes, and the fact that the room’s occupant was apparently hiding in the bathroom didn’t make things look too good for him either. He was going to paddle her ass for this and have her on her knees immediately thereafter. He chose to say nothing and waited patiently. He then obeyed the arriving patrolman’s dictum that he stand up and take the position. The search didn’t bother him, but the handcuffs were another matter. He liked handcuffs, albeit the fur-lined kind, and it was never him who wore them. He hoped the process at the police station didn’t take too long. Olivia would make things up to him regardless.

  Chapter Seven

  As soon as the noise diminished outside the bathroom door, Olivia cracked it open. Cameron must have gone peaceably because everything looked much the same.

  “Hello?”

  Olivia flinched and then realized the deep male voice must belong to hotel staff.

  “I need my robe,” she called out. A big hand clutching that object came into view, followed by a large arm. She snatched it and retreated back into the bathroom, pushing the door shut. She pulled the fabric over her and took a couple of deep breaths before going out to face whoever it was.

  “Thank you,” she began, “I appreciate how quickly you came.”

  A deep voice rumbled back at her, “We don’t get many calls, ma’am, and we aren’t real busy, so it was easy to get here fast.”

  Olivia looked up at a kind, older face, at odds with the football player’s body. She offered her hand and her name.

  “I’m Don Sullivan, ma’am, hotel security. That fellow will be at the station by now. They’ll be wanting you to make a statement.”

  Olivia thought fast. “I really don’t have anything to say,” she improvised. “I came out of the bathroom to see a man in my room. The hall door was open, so I went back inside the bathroom and locked the door and called you.”

  Mr. Sullivan looked at her for some time and then said, “Do you know him?”

  “Well, I actually do,” Olivia confessed and then flat-out lied. “I didn’t put it together until I locked myself in, but it was the man I had dinner with last night. Maybe he thought this was his room or something. Maybe he was drinking.”

  “I suppose that’s as good an explanation as any, ma’am,” the large man replied.

  Olivia knew that he knew she wasn’t being forthright, but at the same time the hotel wouldn’t want any bad PR, so she hoped this could just go away quietly. She had a business to run in this town and had to live here.

  He continued, “The hotel will make him pay for damages and clear out, and we can put this behind us if that’s what you’re okay with. But if he assaulted you or anything like that…”

  Olivia cut him off. She was glad the high neck of the robe hid the whisker burn and love marks that adorned her neck, shoulders, and tops of her breasts, to say nothing of the faint bruising on her hips and thighs. She had yet to really examine her buttocks. “Nothing like that, Mr. Sullivan. I was scared, that’s all. I don’t care to press charges. I simply don’t want to see him again if at all possible. I don’t care why he was in my room or what he wan
ted. I have no interest in him at all.” Liar.

  “Well then, I’ll head down to the station and sort this out then. My apologies, ma’am, that this had to happen during your stay. I assume you’ll be checking out?”

  Olivia hadn’t thought it through. Of course they wouldn’t want her here. Her story stunk. She was a risk for more doors to be broken open and the police to be called and other guests inconvenienced. It was bad for business.

  “I’ll pack immediately,” she answered and watched Mr. Sullivan gravely nod and make his way out the door, pulling it shut behind him, the lock engaging.

  Olivia flew around the room, filling her suitcase randomly. She had no idea where she was going to stay, but she needed to be gone before Cameron got back. She didn’t regret calling security on him. She didn’t care if the police locked him up. She didn’t care if he wasn’t allowed back in the hotel to pick up his belongings. She did care if he caught up to her. Cameron wasn’t going to let a little thing like breaking and entering or trespassing or vandalism or whatever he got threatened with keep him away. Not that it was likely any charges would be pressed. She knew he wouldn’t leave her alone just as she knew the punishment he would give her would be both corrective and highly orgasmic if he caught her. She was done with him. He had said she was his. Mine, he had said. But surely that was just in the short term. Her anger toward him had dissipated, but her fear of opening her soul to him had not. And he could make her tell. That she wasn’t prepared to allow. The past twelve years belonged to her and her alone, now that Andrew was dead, no matter how they had shaped her.

  She chose an outfit that covered all the marks Cameron had left on her body, but the face that stared back at her from the mirror reflected what he had done to her less physical side. Sunglasses hid those windows to her soul, and she was ready to check out.

  The blonde desk clerk avoided looking directly at her, a fact that Olivia appreciated, although the young woman was clearly very intrigued by the situation. Olivia wasn’t yet prepared to pretend that whatever had transpired in her hotel room wasn’t anything of importance and that she was simply a victim in the whole scheme of things, but she knew that she would have to put together a feasible explanation for when the gossip started. Being a business owner in a small town made it important for her to appear stable and reliable. Despite the fact that Aspen Grove had more than doubled in size since she lived here, it would still have much of that small-town mentality and she would need to defuse anything really nasty. It might be best to pretend ignorance. She was very well versed in pretending. She hurried through the paperwork and had her luggage loaded into her car in record time. She headed to the golf club. She would stay in one of the few rooms that were available for members who either imbibed too much in the clubhouse after a round or who simply didn’t want to go home. Cameron might find her there, in fact he probably would discover her whereabouts quickly, but at least she would be on her own turf.

  Chapter Eight

  “But we really aren’t set up for long-term guests, Mrs. Foster.” Maurice’s whiny voice grated on Olivia’s frayed nerves.

  “My house isn’t ready yet,” she explained again. “I want to stay here and get a feeling for the business. The hotel is apparently often fully booked, and having members rooms might not be such a bad idea.”

  And with that, Olivia had Maurice thinking there was no room at the inn, hence giving a good reason for her to stay at the club. He was further distracted by the idea of renovations, and willingly followed her to his office where they spent the day making plans and discussing ideas. A painkiller eased the headache Olivia cultivated, not to mention taking her attention away from the slightly uncomfortable assorted areas on her body that reminded her of the previous evening’s debauchery. Her pussy heated at the thought, and she bit the inside of her cheek to take her mind off of the memories.

  She found the lunch at the club to be quite excellent, and made a note to find ways to encourage the chef to stay on and be creative. She hoped the other chef was as talented. Maurice had introduced her to staff and members alike, and Olivia thought she had impressed them with her demeanor. It helped that she could now afford to be herself, someone who genuinely liked people and was now in a position to both support and serve. She convinced herself that she hardly gave a moment’s thought to Cameron, although every arrival, the sound of every newcomer’s voice, made her jump. She made it to her little room and her single bed at the end of the day, and gratefully prepared for slumber. Her cell phone rang and she cautiously checked the number. Her contractor.

  “Mrs. Foster? Steve here. Got a quote for your security system at the house, and he’ll head out to the club tomorrow and give you one for there, too.”

  Olivia replied, “That’s fine, Steve. Just ensure it’s a reputable firm. I’ll be at the club tomorrow and will talk with the rep myself. What is his name?”

  “George Nash. And it’s a reputable firm. Up there with Fraser’s. By the way, Mrs. Foster, I heard Fraser got arrested today at your hotel.”

  “You heard nearly correctly, Steve. The police did connect with him at the hotel apparently, but I don’t know about any arrest. Probably some kind of misunderstanding,” she said. “I’m sure that a reputable firm like Fraser’s wouldn’t have any issues with the police.”

  The dead sound of Steve’s silence nearly made her laugh, but Olivia clicked off before she said any more. She had her story and she was sticking to it. Steve wasn’t going to spread gossip when it could backfire on him. He had picked Cameron’s firm after all. She slipped between the cool cotton sheets and pulled up the fuzzy blanket. Olivia made a mental note to discuss new bed linens with the head of housekeeping. She was too physically tired to get up and find her planner, although her brain was on fast-forward. She assured her active mind that, as soon as she got things started here, she would look into BDSM clubs and pay a visit. Surely if she had her newfound physical needs met then she could ignore those other pesky ones that seemed to be centered in the middle of her chest.

  * * * *

  The cause of Olivia’s angst was presently considering his options. Cameron had signed off on the deal the hotel offered, paying for all damages, and then obliged them by clearing out of his suite as quickly as possible. Olivia had checked out, too, according to the little blonde at the desk, who was clearly thrilled to break the rules of guest confidentiality when she gave him a receipt. But he wasn’t interested in her. He wanted to catch up to Olivia. They had several things to discuss, and Olivia no doubt would be pleased to apologize to him. He should be furious with her, but part of him admired her spirit. No way did he want to break that. Her submissiveness in the bedroom was all he demanded, unless she required other guidance for her well being, although it appeared that she was trying to resist him at this time. Cameron had never chased a woman before and was determined to make the most of the experience, because once he caught Olivia, he was never going to let her go. Cameron accepted that he was head over heels in love with her on top of his insane lust, and believed that she had the same strong feelings for him. She was simply in denial for reasons he needed to ferret out. He positively vibrated with sexual tension and the swelling in his chest as he contemplated the future. But first things first. He needed a place to stay before he searched his woman out. Kind of like a command post.

  A quick check of the Aspen Grove yellow pages netted the phone numbers of a couple of bed-and-breakfasts. There was a good chance that Olivia had sought a room in one of them. Cameron placed the call and made a reservation for a two week stay. He had no idea how long his pursuit was going to take, but Olivia’s house would be finished by then and he intended to be living with her before his reservation expired. He could commute as necessary to his office and continue to do field work, but the bulk of the management labor would be done online. A part of Cameron knew that he was being arrogant and presumptuous. Knew that he was making assumptions about Olivia she would likely protest, but he couldn’t slow down. He fel
t driven toward a future he desperately needed. One with Olivia in it.

  Cameron dumped his belongings in the large, if crowded ground floor room of the old Victorian style home. The proprietor was a middle-aged woman who favored long, shapeless dresses and heavy leather sandals. The place smelled of dried flowers and baking but seemed clean and welcoming. The heavy, carved four-poster bed drew his Dom side and he found himself contemplating the placement of velvet ropes and restraints.

  “There are four other guests, Mr. Fraser,” Mrs. Porter advised. “The house is now quite full. If you want to extend your stay you will need to let me know by next week.”

  Cameron was a bit startled and then realized he’d told her he was in town on business but that he hoped it would be completed within two weeks. For a moment her request had felt like a premonition, like a suggestion that those two weeks might not be enough time to pursue and subdue Olivia. He mentally shook himself and smiled pleasantly.

  “I’ll be sure to let you know. I have a friend in Aspen Grove,” he added, “and she might be staying here while her house is being renovated.”

  “You’ll meet the other guests at breakfast, Mr. Fraser, which is at seven, for the hot meal. After that you can help yourself to muffins, scones and such, or have cereal, toast. If you plan to be here for dinner, I would appreciate a confirmation. It is served at six. I do not provide luncheon.”

  Mrs. Porter sounded like a housemother who took the privacy of her guests to heart. Cameron nodded solemnly. He wouldn’t be bringing Olivia back here. There was probably a rule about overnight guests, and Mrs. Porter would likely have a heart attack if she heard screams of pleasure emanating from his room. He watched her plod down the hallway and stepped back into his room and shut the door. He pulled out his phone and called his personal assistant at home. Things were under control and Cameron let her know he was out of contact for two more weeks unless the direst emergency in the world happened. Roberta accepted his edict with her usual placid demeanor. His partner and next in command was a whole different story.