Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  * * * *

  He’d had to leave the table in the diner. Susan’s innocent response to his explanation about protocol and rules, her evident intelligence as she shared her recent education about his lifestyle—if he’d remained in his seat, he would have dragged her across the table onto his lap, careless of the plates and condiments littering the surface. Ignored the multitude of other diners and molested her right there in the booth. Fuck. He was definitely subscribing to the aspects of Fate, Serendipity, and Providence.

  Sharing openly and honestly about some coworker of hers, expressing her diffidence, touched his heart. And she had yet to totally accept the nature of their future connection. He checked his watch and pulled out his phone. It was time he manned up, seeing as his life was now proceeding along a very different path, the one he’d longed for.

  “Jon? Maurice Alain. I know it’s early. Sorry. I need to talk with you. You and Trevor. And Lois, if you’ll allow it.”

  He listened to the silence, hearing it stretch out forever before the other Dom finally answered to say that he’d check with Trevor and get back to him. No word about Lois, but then Jon wouldn’t make that kind of decision without his partner’s input.

  That deed taken care of, he considered the rest of his day. Figuring he had enough time, he drove to the lumber yard and stocked up on the supplies he’d need. Driving to Susan’s house, he unloaded at the curb, carrying the two-by-fours and bags of screws, his tools, in a couple of trips. A lanky man emerged from the house next door on the third foray and offered to carry the saw.

  “I’m Adam Forbes. Susan hire you to fix up the place?”

  “No. I’m her…significant other. Maurice Alain.” Her Master, her Dom, sounded a trifle presumptuous.

  “Oh. I wasn’t aware she was seeing anyone.”

  Maurice heard the speculation and caution in the other man’s voice and welcomed it. Susan had at least incurred someone’s protection during her difficult time. Unless—he overtly checked out the other man’s left hand, and was moderately reassured by the sight of a wide gold band on the ring finger. He caught the guy’s grin.

  “If I wasn’t married and a whole lot younger, I’d give you a run for your money, boy. Susan’s the best, a real good girl, and never asks for help. She about killed herself caring for her mom. She had a pretty good job back east, but that place canned her when she ran out of leave. I can only imagine how the bills piled up.”

  “I’ll be sorting that out.”

  “Really. Well, good luck to you, Alain. She has a stubborn streak a mile wide. Doesn’t like to be beholden, like her mom.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Maurice promised. “And leave her pride intact.”

  “Good man. Can I give you a hand?”

  Not one to refuse an offer when two handymen would be better than one, he nodded his appreciation and they set about tearing down the untrustworthy steps before turning their attention to the boards on the porch. It was a relatively fair day, but both worked up a sweat and Maurice tugged his T-shirt off, tossing it over the railing, noting how it actually quivered under the slight weight of the fabric. That was next on the agenda.

  He noticed Adam surveying his upper body, and the man lifted his chin. “You a bodybuilder or something?”

  “Something,” he agreed. “I work out. I tend a door at a local club.”

  With a bark of laughter, Adam said, “I imagine it gets well tended.”

  “Mostly.”

  They worked together, cutting boards and fitting them to replace the rotten ones, shoring up the supports where necessary. Adam screwed some into place with the ease of long practice, and Maurice made a pile of the debris, ensuring Susan had no call to trip.

  Around one thirty, a thin, quiet woman came out of Adam’s house with a tray of sandwiches and tall glasses of lemonade that immediately beaded with condensation in the heat. She offered them and smiled shyly, when introduced as Helen, and returned to her home without further ado.

  “I suspect she’s enjoying the peace and quiet. Retirement ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. I don’t have enough to do, and I make her crazy.”

  Maurice chuckled. “Well, I appreciate the help. It’ll be finished today, and I won’t have to worry about Susan climbing over construction.”

  “Well, she can’t use the front door, so it’s good we’ll be done. I offered to drill the lock and install another one, seeing as she doesn’t have a key, but…well, she’s stubborn that way.”

  “It’ll be my honor to take her burden.”

  Adam stared at him for a minute, face impassive, before he nodded.

  About five o’clock, the final section of the railing had been secured, albeit following a flying trip back to the lumber yard. He thanked Adam, who shook his hand vigorously. “I’ll see you, Maurie. You’re my kind of guy, old fashioned.”

  Maurie. A little girly, but he’d never had a nickname before. He decided not to enter into a discussion about being old fashioned. “Again, appreciate your help, Adam.”

  As the man headed back home, Maurice reflected on his sweatiness and decided to get home for a quick shower before picking up Susan.

  * * * *

  The day hadn’t exactly flown by. Susan kept losing count of the flowers she sorted and had to go back and redo mundane tasks. Her arrangements suffered, too, and she had but half the talent of Felicity and Missy.

  “What’s going on?”

  Sighing, she faced her boss, who was standing, hands on hips, regarding her with a puzzled look on her pleasant face. Felicity then swiped at the strands of graying hair escaping from her chignon and narrowed her eyes.

  “You look better. Not so tired. But you look…different.”

  What the hell. Maurice would be by soon, and all her thinking hadn’t changed her intention to check out this club of his and explore these possible tendencies of hers. And jump feet-first into a relationship with a man who wanted to run her life. Her breath caught in her chest, and she sagged against the counter, crushing the stems of several innocent red roses.

  “Good grief, Susan! Go sit in my office and take a break. Before you break anything else.” Felicity’s voice was full of humor but overlaid with a level of frustration.

  Sitting in the little chair in the corner, Susan braced herself for her boss’s interrogation. Felicity joined her, brushing her hands off on a towel, and perched on the corner of her desk, laden with invoices, catalogues, and assorted tools.

  “What’s up?”

  Taking a deep breath, she answered. “I met someone yesterday. Right after I called you.”

  “Really.”

  The confused comment said it all, seeing as she’d cried off work because she was so tired, and Susan hastened to clarify. “He nearly ran me over—”

  “What?” Felicity’s shriek echoed in the small room, and Susan involuntarily glanced at the door. But it was closed and Missy safely on the other side. The airhead had gushed about Maurice and asked the most intrusive questions that morning until Felicity hung up the phone and told her to load the van for deliveries.

  “I’m fine. I walked out into the street without looking, and he was driving…I just fell down in front of his vehicle because I was so tired.” She sought to reassure her boss. “And he took care of me, and…well, I like him.”

  Felicity shook her head like a dog fending off a pesky fly. “You haven’t dated in what, a year? A year and a half? Never talked about having a relationship before you quit your job, pulled up stakes, and came home to take care of your mom. And you’re dating someone who nearly ran you over.”

  That pretty much summed things up, except for the Dominant-submissive overlay, something she wasn’t sharing with anyone, maybe ever, so Susan merely nodded her head in response. Felicity rolled her eyes and chuckled.

  “Well, honey, you’re mooning around here like a lovesick puppy. Good for you.”

  Flustered, Susan made to rise, but Felicity forestalled her with a flap of her hand. “Aft
er how hard you work, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you pulling Missy’s weight for her, too, you deserve some time off. Why don’t you—”

  “I can’t. I’m nearly out of the hole, but can’t afford a vacation yet.” Especially when I’m going to ask Ray for another night off in the near future. Suddenly, the burden of juggling work, bills, and a relationship crushed her. She stared helplessly at her hands, seeking an answer when there was a tap on the door. Missy poked her head inside and pouted.

  “Your…Maurice is here to see you, Susan.” An eye roll indicated her shock that such a man was actually asking for a dowdy, older woman, and Susan’s angst was tempered with annoyance…and a shot of whatever it was that Maurice imbued in her. A potent cocktail.

  Felicity slapped her hands together and smiled widely. Susan stood and made her way out to the main area of the shop to make the introductions. Maurice, wearing the same dark pair of jeans and another dark T-shirt, stood amongst the greenery and bright hits of colorful flowers and knickknacks. He should have looked out of place, but instead one merely focused on his very masculinity, at ease, at rest, as he watched her approach. That warm, concerned stare chased all her cares away, and she walked straight to him, content just to be held closely at his side while she presented her boss—and Missy. She’d worry about life and her sensibilities some other time.

  He bore Felicity’s assessing look with aplomb, and managed Missy’s gushing with equal authority. The younger woman flounced away to help a customer, and her boss mumbled something about getting ready to close.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Never lie. No subterfuge, Susan. You looked like your world had collapsed when you came from the back.”

  Blowing out a breath, she met his eyes. “I was just reminded of how I can’t blow off work. But I’m not thinking about that now. You kinda replaced it.”

  “Sweetheart. You humble me. I’d kiss you here, but your coworkers are lurking.” He held her loosely, and she appreciated how well he read her ambivalence about displays of public affection. “How much time do we have for dinner?”

  “Uh, none. I’m expected for seven. And it’s across town.” She rattled off the address.

  “So, when did you eat before?”

  “I packed something from home, or grabbed some bar food.” Or passed on eating.

  “And lunch today?”

  “I wasn’t hungry. Somebody fed me a big breakfast.”

  Shaking his head, he drew her toward the door. “You’re okay to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll pick up some salads along the way, maybe with chicken. Shakes. Better than bar food.”

  He was right, again, except for the niggling point she wasn’t paying her way. As she settled into what she was quickly coming to call her side of the truck, Susan ventured a comment about buying her own dinner. Maurice paused in the act of buckling his seat belt.

  “Not happening.”

  She sighed. “I know. Your mother raised a gentleman.”

  True to his word, he ran into an eatery, naturally finding another handy parking space, and emerged with a large sack a few minutes later. The smell of roasted chicken filled the cab as he passed her the bag. Her stomach rumbled on cue.

  “We’ll have a few minutes to spare if we catch the lights. Is there a place to share the meal at—what’s the name of the bar?”

  “Kelby’s. And we can use my office.” She had no idea what Ray would say, but suspected he’d keep his own counsel in Maurice’s presence.

  * * * *

  Ray bent an inquiring look on her and Maurice when they made their way to her office. It was little more than closet size, and Maurice took up most of the available space, standing there with their meals while she cleared a space on the heavy old desk. He didn’t seat himself in the extra small chair until she dropped into the one behind the desk, then opened the bags and set her food out first. He took such good care of her she was confused by the thought of serving him.

  “Susan?” Did the man miss nothing? She confided her confusion.

  A smile she could only describe as evilly sensuous, crossed his face. “You’ll serve me, Susan. You’ll do whatever you feel will please me as you come to know me and what I need. And I’ll be clear. But it’s my honor to care for you. We’ll find our way.”

  She barely tasted the salad, festooned with chunks of chicken and candied cranberries, although the shake moistened her dry mouth. Her panties weren’t dry, and she sat perfectly still so as not to give herself away. Although the way he was looking at her, Maurice knew she was aroused. Her few past lovers hadn’t been articulate in bed, let alone outside of it, and she suspected there was a whole lot more to sexual pleasure than she’d experienced.

  “Who’s your company?” Ray rapped a knuckle on the doorframe and surveyed Maurice.

  Performing the introductions, she watched the interaction between the two men. Maurice was courteous, and Ray portrayed his usual miserable old man persona. But they must have taken one another’s measure because Maurice sat again and her boss relaxed against the door. Ray wasn’t a bad sort. In fact, once a person got past his gruff demeanor, and if one was honest and sincere, Ray made a very good boss—and friend. She was pleased to recognize it.

  “You’re working tonight, right?”

  “I am. Although…” She hesitated, wondering if she dared ask for more time off.

  “What?”

  “Susan would like a night off. At your convenience.”

  Well. She didn’t much care for Maurice taking charge, and Ray’s response increased her ire.

  “Yah, well, she’s pretty valuable here. I get behind in all paper shit the government requires. But she never takes time off and she looks it. Seems like last night helped.” The implication, and the unspoken inquiry, were both there. Ray was assuming some kind of paternal role here, and Maurice was evidently happy to oblige.

  “Susan does work too hard. I’d appreciate it if you could accommodate her.”

  “Not a Friday or Saturday.”

  “Then tomorrow night? And other nights as you can spare her?”

  “Don’t see why not. Good to meet you.”

  Susan gaped as Ray stomped off. Maurice raised a brow.

  “I can speak for myself.” She tried to modulate her tone but heard the snap.

  “Ray understands.”

  Her fingernails pressed grooves into her palms until she brought her temper under control. “Understands? Are you implying he wouldn’t have given me time off had I asked?”

  “I don’t doubt he would.”

  “Then why did you interfere?”

  Again, the old tom cat adage filled her mind. He sat quietly, watching her, and waiting. He’d been establishing his claim on her, recognizing Ray’s old-fashioned approach to life. Lord knew her boss hadn’t wanted to hire her, a single woman, working late in his establishment with no man in her life. Ray even paid for the cab home after work. So she worked her butt off for him, and forgot she, too, had rights. But it still rankled.

  “Can you let it go?”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I won’t steal your independence, Susan, not totally, but get used to me in your life. Trust me to make decisions for you.”

  “And if you make the wrong ones?”

  “Then I’ll remedy them.”

  And she supposed she had to be content with that, because he obviously wasn’t budging. Maybe it hadn’t been such a big deal. It was done, and she wasn’t arguing further. Avoiding his eyes, she bagged up the remnants of the food, crushing the containers back into the sack.

  “Susan.”

  Tossing the garbage into the trash, she finally looked at him. “I have to get started on this.”

  “I’m going to be the boss of you, sweetheart, if you sign on. It’s who I am.”

  And she was back to that quivery feeling again. What on earth did that make her? Ambivalent. “You’ve been aware of w
hat you want for a long time, Maurice. I’m just sticking a toe in.”

  His big hand captured hers across the expanse of the desk, and held it gently. “You just look deep inside, Susan. Go with your feelings. Let me in. Let me take care of you.”

  Carefully extricating her fingers, she made a shooing motion. “I have to work. On the clock.”

  “I’ll be back to pick you up.”

  “All right.” He’d arrive even if she protested, and really, it was silly. He obviously didn’t do anything he chose not to.

  He was gone, moving quietly for a man his size, and she wished he’d kissed her. Without thinking about it, she hurried after him, ignoring the interested looks of the patrons. “Maurice!”

  When he turned, she nearly fell into him, his arms coming round her to stop the momentum. “Are you okay?”

  “I didn’t say good-bye. Did you…did you not kiss me to teach me a lesson?”

  Both hands now cupping her head, he touched his lips to hers. “There will come a time when I’ll withhold, sweetheart, but never as punishment. You just seemed to need some time.”

  Searching his dark eyes, she read nothing but honesty. “I’ll see you later.”

  A final light kiss and he released her to stride to the door. Susan focused her attention on her office and escaped the good-natured catcalls and laughter. Many of Kelby’s patrons were well known to her, but she wasn’t going there tonight. She wasn’t sharing anything.

  Chapter Four

  “It’s done. We won’t talk about it again.” Jon Spence leaned against Pat’s desk and watched Maurice. Trevor sprawled in a chair, one hand flat against the wall to support its two-legged stance. Both men had arranged to meet with him that morning despite Jon having worked the Club the night before. Trevor was pretty much his own boss, but Maurice appreciated that the other man had taken the time.