How her Master must hate her. Blindsiding him with her worthless proclamation of love to cost him his trained Club submissive, forced to retrieve her from the competition…Her footsteps faltered. How the hell had he even found out? And where the hell was she supposed to go for release now? Fuck him. Fuck everybody.
Wheeling around, she caught Ray smirking at her. He quirked his brows, looking ridiculous. “Change your mind?”
“I’m entitled,” she snarked. “Being female and all.”
“Fuck me, honey. You’d be a pistol around here. If you weren’t permanently in punishment.”
Giving him her best bitch look, tempering it with a little wink, she stepped back into Vice. No more running. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be the love of Jordan’s life, but she was different now. She’d changed and grown, discovered things about herself, in particular how strong she was. Emily Prentiss was moving forward, and if Jordan Sterling stayed behind, then it was his loss.
And speak of the devil…A disheveled Jordan bore down on the entryway, his shirt partially askew at the collar and his hair tousled.
“Emily!”
“Jordan.”
“I thought you’d left. Again.”
“I’m finished with running, Jordan. I’m going to take out a membership in Vice and get on with my life.”
“The hell you are.”
The absolute determination in his voice, accompanied by the way he drew himself up, told her she was in for a fight. And the new and improved Emily wasn’t interested in fighting, only getting what she needed.
“You really don’t have any say in my life any longer. I apologize if I didn’t resign formally or whatever from Pleasure before coming here, but if you tell me what to do I’ll take care of it. Make any necessary reparations.”
His eyes widened. “What? Do you really think this is about…territory?”
She shrugged, aware how annoyed he became when she did so. “Why else would you come here? There’s clearly some kind of competition between Vice and Pleasure I wasn’t aware of.”
“Jesus Christ, Emily. I fucked up earlier, okay? I figured it out and went looking for you, but you weren’t home. Master Lee called Pleasure, and I got word. Came straight here.” His eyes narrowed on her, and his tone dipped into Dom mode. “And found another Dom about to administer a beating with a freaking single tail to my submissive.”
He fucked up earlier. He figured it out. What did that mean? He’d screwed up with Olivia, too, fawning over her right in front of his submissive, then didn’t have the balls to deal with the fallout. Telling her he didn’t love her tonight…Emily sucked in a huge breath. Had he figured it out? Did she dare entertain a flicker of hope?
* * * *
Watching the agonizing thought process Emily was experiencing, her dilemma clearly written in her big, blue eyes and across her lovely features, Jordan cursed himself. Simple words wouldn’t work with his submissive. She required showing with the telling, having reverted to her former mode of assessing situations and people. And she’d just become able to tentatively build relationships, albeit mostly with other kinksters at Pleasure, but not all—she was happy in her job, too. She’d trusted him with herself, not that he’d given her any reason to continue after the past two evenings, but he was damned if he was going to let her build distance between them. His epiphany was fresh, and that made him selfish, but he instinctively knew better than to allow her any more time.
Dropping a shoulder, he bent to set it in her solar plexus, cutting off some of the air she required to launch the barrage of platitudes and excuses he felt coming his way, and allowing him to get her in a position where she was fairly helpless.
“What are you doing? Jordan!” Little fists beat ineffectually against his back.
He smacked her ass, twice. “You show respect, sub. We’re in a Club, and you’ll call use the proper address for any Dom here.”
Her struggles ceased, but the length of her remained rigid. He tightened his grip and looked around, praying she wouldn’t use her safe word in front of all the members working their way in his direction. It would humiliate him, but that wasn’t as important as the fact Emily might gain an ally or two—or the attention of an unattached Dom.
Catching the eye of the big, brooding bastard who was going to introduce his submissive to the lick of a single tail, he noted a faint quirk of the other Dom’s lips. The man shoved to his side, eyes lingering over Emily’s bottom and the uncovered length of her legs.
“You planning on taking this elsewhere? Or do you want a room?”
Master D had already seen a considerable amount of Emily, but Jordan didn’t like the way he looked at her. It was ridiculous, because he’d had her stripped in front of lots of people, knowing exhibitionism was a rush for her. Maybe it was just his vulnerable state. Regardless, he glared at Dominic, who openly smiled. Emily didn’t speak up, something that gave him hope, although she tensed further.
“I’d take a room,” he admitted.
Master Lee then touched his arm. “You’re in control?”
Jordan winced. The dungeon monitor had been correct to restrain him from punching Dominic in the face and taking out his emotions on Emily. Lord, she drove him crazy. “I am.”
“I’ll show you to one. But if she—”
“You have my word.” Jordan saw the other man accept his oath. Jordan Sterling was known as a Dom with honor and one who would never break his word. Little did they realize he was about to do just that, take back his assertion to Emily that he didn’t love her. If she’d allow it. But he knew Master Lee wanted to ensure he’d respect Emily’s use of her safe word. And that he would do, unless he could keep her from using it.
He shut down all negative thoughts. He wasn’t going to fail here. Following Lee just a few steps, he waited while the blond Dom opened a door on the opposite side of the hallway and motioned them through. Nodding his thanks, he nearly chuckled at the sly wink the other man gave him. It was definitely a kick to impose one’s will on another when one knew it was in their best interest. Emily had been ganged up on, and he doubted she was oblivious.
The room was dimly lit, and he slapped a hand against the switch, bringing up the overhead lighting. As much as he’d long for a romantic scene, he knew it would take all of his talents—and honesty—to convince Emily of his change of heart. He lowered her to the floor, ensuring she was steady on her feet before he stepped away.
Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, she stared at him, the picture of outraged femininity, and his heart literally breathed a sigh of relief that he’d found her and had this opportunity. Her blonde curls wreathed around her head as they settled back into place, and her blue eyes were the dark, deep shade of Ceylon sapphires, complete with the star-shaped shards—of anger. When he didn’t say anything, she spoke up.
“Say what you need to say, Master, and then I have an appointment with a single tail.”
Well. The gauntlet had been thrown, one calculated to push every single one of his dominant buttons, and his cock filled in response. Mine.
“I’ll give you what you need, sub. Get your clothes off.”
“Uh, no.” But a subtle flush worked its way up from the tops of her breasts, coloring her throat and settling over her cheeks. He thought the anger in her eyes was slightly replaced with arousal. And she hadn’t used her safe word.
“Off. Or I’ll assist you and you’ll go home in a blanket.”
With a slight change in her breathing, she replied. “Maybe I don’t need anything from you.”
It was a simple matter to wrap her up and tug her clothing off. Emily struggled, but her heart wasn’t in it and it gave him considerable hope. Choosing a straight-backed chair, he dragged her over to it and sat, pulling her over his lap. He’d never administered an over-the-lap spanking to her for whatever reason, and welcomed the intimacy. Emily’s skin shone in pale contrast to his dark leathers, and her buttocks were enticingly presented. Jordan trapped her legs between hi
s own, tipping her forward a little further to give her no option of retreating, and set his left hand on the middle of her back.
“No count, sub. I’ll give you what you require.”
Knowing her skin would have already been sensitized by Master D, he made himself ignore the jealousy that realization stirred up, and stroked his free hand over the curve of her ass. He could scent her—Emily always responded to him, except for when he cropped her in his stupidity, and her sexual reaction now cheered him immeasurably.
“Emily! Acknowledge me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her position muffled her response, but he heard the ambivalence, a hint of sarcasm, and a whole lot of anticipation.
He smacked her until the pale skin took on a distinctly rosy hue, patterned with an outline of red blooms of color. The sound of his hand on her ass resonated in every corner of the room. After a count of twenty, she was lax over him, a boneless creature, her sobs and cries of protest past. He knew she’d cried a flood of tears, too, as evidenced by her pathetic sniffles. Adding a few more slaps to decorate the backs of her thighs, Jordan flexed his stinging hand and then rubbed all the affronted areas of her bottom, making her gasp.
Slipping between her thighs, his fingers encountered her slick folds, coated in her honey, and the engorged nub of her clit flinched against his touch. He pursued it, using quick and tiny little rubs to take her up quickly, pressing firmly when she went over with a shudder and a sigh.
Maneuvering her upright, he swung her in his arms and crossed to the big bed, carefully laying her on her side, where she curled into herself.
“No, sweetheart. You aren’t distancing yourself.” Grabbing a handful of tissues, he lowered down beside her and cuddled her against his chest. “Look at me.”
A reddened nose, swollen lips, and equally swollen eyes met his gaze, and he awkwardly mopped her face. “Blow.”
Disposing of the used tissues, he smoothed the riot of hair back from her brow. “Better?”
A choking sigh. “Depends.”
Well, that was fair. He’d helped her purge the cacophony of emotions, although regretted he’d been the cause, and now it was time for him to step up.
“I won’t retreat into jargon, sweetheart. The short version is, I long ago figured out I felt lacking in some regard, unworthy somehow, and it’s affected my ability to…strongly care for anyone.”
She hitched up a little and peered at him. “You?”
“Me. I went through life trying to be the perfect kid for my parents, always aware I wasn’t who they wanted in their lives because they had their hearts set on a girl. And then they had Sybil and it was like they had only the one child insofar as an emotional connection went. They are totally indifferent to me.”
“Like me and Fiona?”
“Ah, so you noticed my reaction when you compared yourself to her, sweetheart. Always so in tune,” he agreed. “Kind of like that.”
“My parents focused themselves on her, after…my uncle. Or so I thought. I’ve come to see it a bit differently. They gave me plenty of attention, just not the kind I needed.”
“I’ve come to see things differently, too. But I set aside any revelations about my parents because of what a certain little sub has forced me to face, head-on.” Why would he chase the regard of people who didn’t care one iota about him when he had Emily?
Her little body tensed, and he knew she held her breath. Immediately, he stroked down her back until she relaxed. “I’ve had brief relationships in the BDSM world. Lots of control, doing well by others. Olivia was a safe bet. I could tell myself to long for her because I knew she was unavailable to me. Fraser’s arrival just gave me something to focus on while I pretended some more and avoided the truth.”
He searched her beloved features, such a solemn look on her face, but she didn’t say a word. And there was no hint of smugness or satisfaction either. He wondered how he could have gotten so lucky.
“I didn’t think I was enough for you, little one. I’ll probably still question it from time to time. But the truth slapped me in the face when you left, and I quit pretending I didn’t feel anything for you. I love you, Emily. I think I’ve loved you since the moment you took your courage in both hands and trusted me with you.”
“I love you, too. And you’re quite enough for me, Jordan. Master. And I’ll make you sorry if you forget it.”
“Is that so?” He rested his palm suggestively on her ass, and she winced, but held his gaze.
“I’m not who I was when we first met. A lot of the change is because of you. Now I know I deserve better. I deserve to be loved, and it’s incredible to experience that feeling—and to be able to give it is wonderful. I’m not going to let you sidetrack us.”
“Clever little sub.” He pressed a kiss on her nose.
His cock clamored to be noticed, perhaps enticed by all the emotional bonding, and Emily felt its interest, to judge by the way she pressed her pelvis against him. He tilted her head back up and took her lips. She opened for him and when he tore his mouth away she panted for air.
“I want to make love to you, Emily.”
Again that mischievous look crossed her beloved face. “Do Doms make love?”
“We do. Some of us do.”
She tugged at his shirt placket, impatiently working the buttons free and he helped her by pulling the tail free of his pants. When she nuzzled across his pectorals and latched onto a nipple, he rethought allowing her such access. He wanted to come inside her, not before he got undressed.
“Emily.” She looked at him with obvious reluctance, her little hands stroking his belly.
“Give me a minute, sweetheart. The highs and lows of this evening have undermined my control.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, then ran her tongue over it, and he groaned, eliciting a smug smile. Minx.
Rolling away, regretting being parted from her for even that short space of time, he stripped off his clothes and clambered back on the bed. Emily lounged on her side, full breasts presented, one slender thigh coyly covering her sweet pussy. His heart seized at the sight and his cock slapped his belly.
With more enthusiasm than skill, he rolled her beneath him and kneed her legs apart, lowering over her to rest his weight on his elbows. He stared into her eyes and she blinked, then giggled. He found himself chuckling in response. When had sex been about fun? Never, until Emily.
Experimentally, he thrust forward and his cock slipped along her wet folds to graze her clit. She gasped.
“Sensitive?”
“Uh huh.”
He worked against her, enjoying the slip and slide on her cream, the sounds mingling with her intermittent little hitches of breath. Impulsively, he rubbed his nose against hers before kissing her again, catching her little smirk.
“Put me inside you.”
Allocating considerable control against the first tentative grasp of her small hand, he couldn’t hold back another groan when she set him at her gate and he pushed past the initial stricture of her opening. Home. And that wasn’t just his cock commenting.
With a pump of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt in her tight channel, and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Emily’s hands crept around his ribs to caress his back, and her splayed thighs rose to encompass his hips.
He moved with long, slow thrusts, now watching her intently, gauging her reactions, seeing her build with him toward release. Sweat broke out on his upper lip, his hairline and his temples, then prickled over his spine. His measured efforts began to lose their tempo and she drew him closer, her legs now wrapping around him.
Finishing in her on a soul-baring rush, his forehead lowered to Emily's, he was lost in her blue gaze as it glazed with her own orgasm. Her sheath milked his cock with slowly diminishing tremors, and she whimpered his name.
Easing to one side, he caught his breath, watching her breasts lower and fall as she gained her own. He drifted his fingertips over her damp belly and skated them up to her throat.
&nb
sp; “Where’s your collar, sweetheart?”
“In my purse.”
“You’ll accept it from me in a formal claiming at the Club then.”
“I will? I mean, yes, Sir.” She couldn’t seem to hide the smile curving her lips, and he kissed it away to taste it. There’d be a lot of discussion ahead, and considerable thinking, too. But he had no doubt they’d be enough for one other.
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks, too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied—when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.
For all titles by Allyson Young, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/allyson-young
Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Enough [Club Pleasure 7] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 12