Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 9
“Excuse me?”
It was his turn to shrug, and she didn’t like it. She set her mouth against his action, and he noticed that, too.
“I told you, Susan. I’ve been looking for my One. This room has been ready for a long while. Just in case. I don’t bring women home.”
“Did you think you wouldn’t find her? Me?” She’d picked up on both his satisfaction and a faint note of despair, and experienced another hit of jealousy at his reference to women.
“I was concerned,” he admitted, a warm, pleased smile softening his face, presumably at her deliberate acceptance of being his One. “I shouldn’t have been. We were destined. I’m glad I waited.”
“So you nearly didn’t wait.” Was that a guilty flash on his face?
“There were two others. One is a submissive at the Club. I thought…but was mistaken. I’ll introduce you to her. You’ll like her.”
Maybe I won’t. Susan made herself smile back and nodded, wondering who her other competition was.
Maurice went to the door between the windows and opened it. She’d been correct. A walk-in closet. A big one. Half-full. Her heart sped up at the implication, and she was drawn in further. His towel slipped to the floor as he reached for a hanger, and she fled, not able to trust herself from jumping on him and setting her teeth right on the side of his neck. The vision of his fine backside whetted her appetite, and she forgot about submissive number two.
She waited in the large living room, perched on the edge of a leather sofa. How man-like was a leather sofa, anyhow? She shifted on the material and pressed a hand against her stomach. They’d had a brief, pleasant meal at a small restaurant where the proprietor seemed to know Maurice, and between bites, Maurice had told her about the evening ahead of them. Susan didn’t really recall how her meal had tasted, only that she’d eaten enough to please him.
He joined her shortly, and she leaned back, requiring the support of the cushion. Wow. Dark leather pants fit him like a second skin, molding every line and ripple of muscle, and the prominence of his crotch. A silky dark shirt fit more loosely than his usual T-shirts, but projected his Dom status more so. He affected nothing else, no whip round his waist, nor handcuffs casually clipped to a belt, like on some of those sites. He didn’t need any props. With his damp, dark hair and dark eyes, he was a study in black. Susan suddenly felt like she didn’t measure up.
Stomping on that defeating emotion, she stood and squared her shoulders. Maurice looked at her with that same expression he usually displayed. The one that conveyed an intense desire to eat her up, and her confidence surged. A stifled part inside of her blurted an inner comment about not needing a man to feel good about herself, but she ignored it. There would be time to assess later. Right now she basked in her man’s approval and obvious need. She took his outstretched hand and accompanied him to the Club.
* * * *
The place was overwhelming, from the Fort Knox-like entrance guarded by the big guy with the military stance—the little wink he gave her after the knowing look he shot Maurice kind of ruined the effect—to the huge room with the bar and dance floor. Heavy rock pulsed, and several people gyrated to the beat, dressed in outfits from sedate, like her own, to downright indecent. Except those individuals looked so comfortable in the leather and PVC, the lace and bits of nothing to challenge the imagination. Maurice never moved from her elbow. She could feel his heat and intensity.
Guiding her to a large sofa, he made sure she was comfortable and had a good view of the room before approaching the bar area. She kept having to remind herself to breathe as she took in the various configurations of the members. Several…submissives, she thought, huddled together in a little group, different-colored ribbons around their necks denoting their interests. Maurice had explained that piece to her at dinner, and expanded upon it during the drive over, also explaining the varying connections between the members. She wanted to snarl at the other women’s not-so-covert glances at him as he made his way back with two glasses of a colorless liquid in either fist.
As he placed one in her hand, three individuals approached and Maurice tensed. He drew her to her feet and plucked the drink away, setting both glasses on a handy table.
The biggest man she’d seen in a long time, beautiful black skin gleaming in the lighting, had his arm around the shoulders of a tiny, slender woman with dark-brown hair. She wore a shimmering dress that clung tightly to her small frame, the fabric lovingly shaping a pronounced baby bump. She smiled sweetly at Maurice and gave Susan the same look. A slightly smaller man with hair the same color as the woman’s, but with bright blue eyes, edged his way to stand closer and insinuate his arm around her waist. The men’s possessiveness was so obvious, Susan could nearly smell the testosterone.
“Susan, I’d like you to meet Master Jon Spence and Master Trevor Braun. And Lois Spence-Braun. Susan Peterson.”
Susan didn’t miss the hierarchy, but understood there was no offence meant to Lois. Rather, the men were introduced first to establish their status as committed protectors, owners perhaps of the little woman. A true ménage. Susan had the irreverent thought she was indeed speaking the language.
Lois wasn’t a young, nubile sub, unlike many of the unattached ones in the room. She looked at least forty, if not older, and wasn’t beautiful or possessed of a sexy, enticing body. But something shone from the other woman, a pure, lovely confidence and aura of sweetness one couldn’t miss. Susan immediately knew this was the submissive Maurice had thought might be his One.
The men nodded their acknowledgment of the introduction, neither offering a hand, and she awkwardly lowered her half-raised one to her side. She became aware of Maurice’s possessive stance and understood the other Doms had known better than to even touch her in a handshake. She relaxed and fought more laughter. Men. Doms. Whatever. Possessive alpha males, while she’d had limited experience with that breed, were apparently predominant here, despite the occasional man who knelt at an obviously Dominant’s feet, male and female. It was an altogether heady experience. They presented as being so…certain. Confident.
Impulsively, she reached out to Lois, who squeezed her hand back and gave her another glowing smile. “Nice to meet you, Lois. Maurice has told me about you.”
Lois giggled, a charming sound, and the big Dom with the bald head made a noise between a choke and a snort, while Trevor’s blue eyes widened, then narrowed. Maurice’s hand landed smack on Susan’s ass, and she read his intent. Whatever.
“Well, I hope he shared only the good things.” Lois squeezed her hand again and winked surreptitiously.
“Of course.”
“Are you here to participate or observe?”
“Observe.”
Lois nodded. “That’s how I found out this was for me. Well, not both of these guys, but sometimes life serves up what you need and not what you think you want.”
Where had she heard something like that before? Susan liked this little woman and wondered if submissives made friends and spent time together.
“Maybe we can get together and talk sometime. Have coffee. Or tea,” she added in deference to Lois’s condition.
“Absolutely.” Lois leaned into Jon, who immediately guided her to a chair.
“Sorry,” Lois called back over her shoulder. “They worry I get tired.”
Susan longed for that kind of attention and care, but momentarily. Maurice had lavished those very things on her, if only she could remember to accept them. She wiggled back into his body, and his arms closed around her. Lois gave her a conspirator’s grin, and Susan returned it.
She and Maurice sat closely together and sipped the club soda while Trevor fetched some for Lois. The men talked about someone named Griffin who had decided not to introduce his submissive that night. Something unspoken passed between the Doms, but Susan couldn’t decipher it. Neither could Lois by the bright, inquiring look she shot between them.
Lois talked about her prior work as a nanny and brightened even mo
re when she shared her due date with Susan. Apparently Lois had worked for another Dom and his not-so-submissive wife and found her way to Club Pleasure through that connection. In turn, Susan briefly mentioned her mother’s illness and subsequent death. The other woman was sympathetic, having lost her own mother at a younger age. None of the men contributed much to the conversation, but Susan knew they were paying attention. Maurice’s intensity cast a heated blanket around her.
There was some kind of signal she missed, but people began to drift toward the exit. Lois murmured a few names, suggesting that she’d probably get to know certain members over time. Susan tried to memorize an Olivia and Cameron, Master Cameron, a lovely tall woman named Elise, paired with Master Ross, who apparently attended infrequently now they had a child. There was a Master Jordan and an Emma? Emily? One couple in particular caught her eye, and Lois leaned into her space.
“That’s Ivone and Master Jamison. He’s scary. She just had a baby, too.”
“Lois.” Trevor ran his hand over his wife’s back. “Master Jamison doesn’t like gossip.”
“Well, then he shouldn’t be such an…I mean, he’d better get used to it, acting the way he does. And the Club is a hotbed of gossip.”
Jon frowned at Lois, and she appeased him with a drift of her fingers down his forearm. The massive Dom melted under her touch. Susan saw it and filed it away before Maurice urged her to her feet. She allowed him to walk her along, the butterflies in her stomach intensifying their movements. She heard Lois and her men following along behind, Jon’s deep voice rumbling about Lois getting overtired.
“You like Lois.” Maurice sounded a little tentative.
“I do. I imagine she and I will have some interesting visits.”
Without warning, he stopped and yanked her to face him, one big hand working its way into her hair to tug it firmly the other at her waist to imprison her with his hold. He nearly touched his nose to hers. “You’re pushing, sweetheart. I won’t allow it.”
“What, Maurice? Our visits? Or the fact you’re a little off balance because I’ve figured out Lois is the woman you thought might be your One?”
He smiled, before stealing her breath and any further comments with a hard, devastating kiss. Lifting his head, he pulled her hair a little harder, making her thrill at his dominant touch. “Beautiful, smart, and mine. But you’re still getting a correction.”
Her sex drew up and tingled, then moistened. Her breasts tightened. Okay then. This wondering and thinking on it was going to make her crazy, so she thought to get it over with. As long as they were going to have sex, too. She bent what she hoped was a contemplative smile on him and was rewarded with a spark in those dark eyes.
“You’re holding up traffic, Alain.” Trevor’s amused voice pulled them apart. Maurice gave her one final stare and towed her along with him down the corridor, deep guffaws following in their wake. Susan couldn’t muster any indignation.
Entering a room holding a bench remarkably similar to the one in Maurice’s bedroom, minus the naked woman, she nearly crashed into Maurice as he came to an abrupt halt.
“I thought you said Griffin wasn’t introducing Keira tonight.” He tossed the question at Jon.
“Not in the lounge,” Jon said easily. “Exhibitionism is her thing, as he’s figured out, and considering her impertinence—” He shook his head. “That girl has a mouth on her. He figured to correct her, fulfill her, and claim her all at the same time.”
“And she agreed to it?” This was a side to Maurice Susan hadn’t seen. He might be all about being in charge, but clearly the sub strapped to the bench had to consent.
Jon raised a brow. “She hasn’t used her safe word. She’s struggling against all kinds of shit, but this is what she needs. The Lifestyle as interpreted by Griffin. And his brothers, I think.”
“It’s been…only a week.”
“They have a history.”
Maurice relaxed and nodded. Susan was intrigued but fixed on his reference to a week. He continued to assert their relationship was already destined, and how long had it been?
“We haven’t even been together for a week,” she whispered.
With a startled look, he drew his brows together. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” She kept her voice down.
“I know my own mind, Susan. Griffin is a relative unknown here. His brothers work at the Club but haven’t been around that long. We are all responsible for the welfare of submissives.”
“Okay.” She decided it was her issue, and was getting tired of this waffling. She just wanted to…trust him to do right by her. She ran her fingers over his arm, and her touch settled him. Ah. “And what about the welfare of the Doms, honey?”
His dark eyes widened at the endearment—or her question. She suspected both.
“We look out for one another, sweetheart. And you’re correct to surmise that some of us have been fucked over by a sub or two. Being Dominant doesn’t make you invincible.” There was a slight bitterness overlaying his solemn answer, and she didn’t care for it. So she soothed him again, no longer certain she wanted to hear about submissive number two.
A crack and a whimper tore her attention away from him, and she nearly spun out of his hold to stare at the big man wielding a strap against the exposed buttocks of the woman restrained on the spanking bench. Long, black tresses spilled over her face but did nothing to cover the lithe line of her spine and slender shoulders. Her breasts hung free on either side of the narrower part of the piece of furniture, and the glitter of…clamps pinched the nipples. She was turned sideways to those bearing witness, and Susan realized only her Dom would be able to view what surely was her fully exposed pussy, as raised a position as she was in.
Again and again the strap came down in a pattern Susan recognized as avoiding the kidney area, yet striking the upper back, both curved ass cheeks, and the woman’s upper thighs. Her golden skin took on a rosy hue, darkening to red in places, especially when the man really began to work her buttocks over.
Aware of her body responding to the submissive now moaning in what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than ecstasy, Susan began to tremble. Maurice instantly gathered her in, his heated front against her back, his erection pressing against her upper bottom. He spoke quietly against her temple, a deep rumble.
“Keira is approaching what we call sub space, a condition where she abandons herself to the endorphins flooding her system. She trusts her Dom to take her there and bring her back safely.”
“I thought at first he was hurting her. But she likes it,” she whispered back.
“She needs it. And Jon was wrong. He isn’t correcting her. But he’s sure staking his claim.”
Griffin cast the strap aside and advanced on Keira. He blanketed her trembling body—Keira appeared incoherent—and Susan could see him stroking her, murmuring in her ear. He fumbled between them, and she was astonished to see him pull out his cock. A really big, angry cock. Fascinated, she watched as he fit it between Keira’s buttocks and slowly pushed inside.
Susan’s knees lost their ability to function, and she sagged. Holy shit. She so wasn’t into watching live sex, although one part of her recognized there was far more to the scene than two people doing it. But she couldn’t watch. It was so intimate. Private. Maurice swung her up and shoved through the other onlookers, and she hid her face in his shoulder.
Hearing a door shut behind them, she risked a look around. They were in a bedroom quite like Maurice’s. It seemed there was a decorating theme going on here that he’d emulated. He lowered her to the surface of the big bed and sat beside her.
“Do you need water? I can go and get you some.” He looked worried, eyes narrowed on her and his chiseled mouth set hard.
“No. No. I’m fine. I’m sorry. So sorry.” She knew she was babbling but reflected how disappointed he must be in her.
“Susan, it’s okay. That was pretty intense, and you heard me voice some concerns beforehand.”
Maurice gathered her close and let her cry against his shoulder, until she gained control. She had to quit doing this.
“It wasn’t against her will, sweetheart. She accepted him.”
“But you said she was off in subspace.”
“And he brought her down. He wanted her to feel him, know it was him.”
“It was too personal to share.”
* * * *
And that was the crux of the matter. He’d indeed found her. He had no need to fuck his woman in public, and she had no desire for it either. He’d only exhibit her at some point, partly to portray his mastery and claiming both for her and his…friends. For indeed he did have a few of that commodity, all because he’d made the effort for Susan. And perhaps make a few more, a circle of community. How had he not realized how lonely he’d been? Certainly he and Susan would be a small nucleus, but she’d need more than just him. That revelation shook him to his core. Secure enough to share. Although never with another man. It didn’t matter if she required it. Never.
“I need to go home.” He’d taken too much time thinking, and she was trying to flee her strong reaction.
“You’ll accompany me back to the lounge and sit for a while. You didn’t disappoint me or anger me, sweetheart. That’s your hard limit. If I required you to submit to me sexually in front of witnesses, it would be an issue. But I don’t. I relish your need to keep that between us, private.” It made him insanely thrilled, for a fact.
Wiping at the streaks on her face, Susan peered at him through moisture spiked eyelashes. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I thought—”
“We still have lots to discuss, woman. Now, go clean up before the others leave.”