Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Club Pleasure 6

  Owned

  Maurice Alain sometimes works the door at Club Pleasure. He’s known as a hard Dom, in demand with the pain sluts. But he’s putting in time, watching and waiting, hoping to find his One, a twenty-four-seven submissive.

  Susan Peterson has given up her career to care for her dying mother. She works doggedly to pay all the bills that have mounted, exhausted and alone. Shaped by an ineffectual, cruel father, her self-worth damaged, unable to trust men in vanilla relationships, she is ripe for someone who’ll dominate and take care of her, craving predictability and acceptance.

  The pair meet under circumstances that immediately establish their respective roles. Well suited, their relationship evolves and withstands the usual stumbles because the affiliation is well defined, until Susan is led to believe her Dom requires certain things she isn’t capable of giving him. Maurice has claimed Susan, just as he must now claim their unique happily ever after.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 49,585 words

  OWNED

  Club Pleasure 6

  Allyson Young

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  OWNED

  Copyright © 2014 by Allyson Young

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-483-8

  First E-book Publication: March 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Owned by Allyson Young from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Allyson Young’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Young’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Once again, to my tireless beta reader, romance author Jennifer Simpkins, for her willingness to read my work and give me such valuable feedback. And for my mystery editor who somehow remembers the previous books in this series and does such a great job.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  OWNED

  Club Pleasure 6

  ALLYSON YOUNG

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Maurice Alain lay flat on his back in his lonely king-sized bed, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, idly stroking his rock-hard cock. He’d been aroused all evening and emotionally affected as well, having been pressed into service as the hard dungeon monitor because all the other house Doms were off fucking their subs. Or too pussy-whipped to risk the ire of their subs if they took the position. That had been happening a lot lately, and while he was happy to help out, it really wasn’t his thing.

  Maurice grimaced, his fingers slipping through the pre-cum beading at the head of his shaft, and worked his hand harder. He knew the orgasm would be soulless, lonely, but his cock wouldn’t soften without it, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The images of tonight’s claiming would dance on the inside of his eyelids, reminding him of all he lacked in life and all that he longed for.

  Maurice was a Dom, and known as being hard core. He wasn’t certain if others actually appreciated what that meant, but he knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily hard core. He wanted an obedient woman, totally submissive to him, strong enough to surrender and please him, serve him, once he gained her absolute trust. He wanted a twenty-four-seven sub, someone, who, in return for her total surrender, would receive the greatest pleasure and the greatest care. He thought he’d found her a couple of times, and most recently missed a wonderful opportunity. Jon Spence cut him off at the pass when he snatched up little Lois, and then Trevor Braun joined forces with Spence. Their ménage was solid, Lois was pregnant, and Maurice was out in the cold.

  Maurice didn’t think he wanted children, but if his sub needed a baby, he would make it so. Perhaps one just needed the right woman to want a child. Except he didn’t have a sub. All the planning in the world didn’t change that fact. He played with subs needing absolute and total domination, many of them, unfortunately, pain sluts, but none of them spoke to him as the One. The two women he thought fit the criteria, Lois and Angela, weren’t meant to be, and he grudgingly accepted it. Again, it didn’t change how lonely he was, and fucking sad about it, not that he’d let anyone know. His family, all the way back in Louisiana, accepted him for who he was, but he moved to Austin because of the opportunities, the clubs. And to establish a whole lot of distance, because Angela chose his brother, making the family home uncomfortable and awkward, full of those nuances speaking to one brother being victorious over another even if the competition hadn’t been overt.

  The play here was fine and for a time his baser needs were met, but Maurice was surrounded by happily-ever-afters—and he wanted his own.

  His climax took him by surprise, fueled by the events of the evening and his futile hope, spurting through his fingers to cover his muscled belly. It relieved the desire created by Master Damon’s subjugation of his woman, b
reaking her to a quivering mass of vague humanity, solidly connected and totally dependent upon her Master for her pleasure. She accepted all he gave her, lost herself to him, was absorbed by him, and the stark, yet richly emotional scene just about killed Maurice. He fiercely envied the other Dom, and as feared, his orgasm was less than joyless. It underscored his total lack. Fumbling for some tissues, he wiped himself clean before finally closing his eyes and seeking the faint comfort of sleep.

  * * * *

  The unwelcome glare of the rising sun’s rays found his face with unerring accuracy and pulled him from slumber. Shit. He’d forgotten to close the freaking blinds. Maurice squinted and turned his head away then tossed the sheet aside, wincing at the smell of his body rising to his nostrils as he did so. He should have showered when he got home. His sub would have seen to it, and cleansed his cock, too, once he’d taken her. Unless she’d accompanied him to the Club, whereby he wouldn’t have waited until they came home. But no, he probably would have left her at home, because he couldn’t do a good job as dungeon monitor and watch his sub, too. There were other Doms without honor, like him, although she’d be loyal and…

  And he was becoming an obsessed crazy man. Soon he’d create an imaginary sub, someone he’d talk to and fake dominate and whatever the fuck else his insane mind could come up with. The blinds got slammed shut, one of the little strings tagging two of the slats together, pinging apart, breaking, to allow that section of the blind to wink mockingly at him. Fuck. He was already nuts.

  A hot shower, followed by a stinging blast of cold water, didn’t improve his mood much, nor did the protein shake blended with fruit. Stripping his bed, Maurice threw the linens into the washer, pouring detergent with a careless hand, jabbing the normal cycle button once the lid slammed shut. Normal, hah. He eyed his bare mattress sourly, then searched for fresh sheets, still creased from their packaging, and made up the bed, knowing he’d come home after work at the Club and be pissed because he wouldn’t want to sleep without linens. Kind of girly, but there you had it. He had his personal standards.

  Deciding to eschew his workout at home, he headed to the gym where, surrounded by fellow fitness enthusiasts, he might find some sense of normalcy. He hefted his duffle over his shoulder and headed out, pulling the door closed behind him and testing the handle to ensure he’d locked it. His neighborhood was okay, probably because he lived in suburbia, but no point in making it easy for someone to just walk into his abode. He kept some interesting and expensive toys inside, and didn’t want to replace them. He was like the Boy Scouts, always prepared, just in case the One—fuck, he was doing it again. Obsessed.

  His pickup bulled its way through the early morning traffic. Seeing as he arrived home at an even earlier hour and was woken so precipitously, the few hours of sleep he’d managed weren’t likely to do him. He had to work that night. Maurice figured he’d have his stint at the gym, maybe swim until his muscles went limp, and crash for the afternoon. Save him from thinking too much, all that adrenalin and testosterone purged from his system. And for now he should probably refrain from using a two-ton vehicle to intimidate the other drivers on the road. He eased off the gas and drove without incident to the gym.

  The Lamont brothers were already there, to his surprise. After what they’d pulled off a few nights previous, Maurice thought they’d still be breaking in the lissom wench they carried into Club Pleasure. He’d turned a blind eye to that adventure. It reminded him too much of the way Jon and Trevor had rectified the situation with Lois. Maurice still felt a hint of shame and guilt when he remembered how his obsession made him cover up her flight from them the night she eavesdropped and jumped to the wrong conclusions. He admitted, if only to himself, he’d hoped the break up was final and he would have a chance with her.

  He didn’t need to admit that peccadillo to anyone else. Trevor and Jon knew his intent, and he wasn’t certain how he would ever mend those bridges. He’d trampled on their code. Neither Dom deigned to acknowledge his existence after his perfidy, something a solitary man would normally welcome, but Maurice’s sense of honor was impugned. Impugned by his own actions, and that made it burn deeper.

  Shaking the memory off, he worked his way further into the gym. Owyn gave him a chin lift in recognition, and Rees nodded. The brothers were pretty fresh out of the Service and still looked the part—short haircuts, strong, muscular bodies and a certain quality seeming to hover around competent, self-assured men. Maurice knew he projected it. When he wasn’t fixating on the lack in his life. Jesus.

  He started with the weights, partly because the rest of the equipment was pretty crowded, but primarily because he wanted to avoid asking the brothers about the sub. He needed to pretend it never happened. He scanned the gym for their little brother—little only in the sense he was younger. Griffin was a well set up guy, too, and over the moon wealthy and actually famous in tech and financial circles. He wasn’t present, so he likely stayed back with the woman.

  Maurice sincerely hoped Patrick didn’t make a flying visit back to the Club. His boss would have a breakdown over the shit that went down, and heads might roll. His included. Fuck. His, first. Jon might have been left in charge while Patrick was away, but it was Maurice’s call as to who got past the door. And he’d let the Lamonts carry the wench right past him and into a member suite, pretending he didn’t hear her not-so-subtly voiced protests and threats. He’d be fucked if Pat came home early or to check things out. But no, Pat would never leave his sub’s side. Madi was due pretty soon, with her third, and Maurice, not a praying man, said a fervent prayer that Pat’s wife would make it through yet another difficult pregnancy. Literally make it through. And the baby, too, if there was a deity.

  Sliding into the burn and headspace that hard exercise afforded him, Maurice did the mindless reps and moved through the rest of the equipment until the shit was burned out of his brain. Deciding not to swim, he showered without seeing anyone he knew in the vicinity and pulled some fresh clothes out of his duffle. Clad in dark boxers, he fingered his jaw and thought he could probably shave now and use the shadow later to intimidate the assholes who thought they’d get past him at the door. There were always the lookie-loos and the wannabes who’d heard about Club Pleasure and formed inaccurate opinions about it, thinking it would be perfect for a night out.

  Maybe he could subscribe to that S/M online paper and—he groaned internally. He was thinking about finding a sub again. There was little he did that drove his need away for any length of time.

  “Alain.”

  He whirled to see Rees pulling a towel from the rack. The other man was dripping with sweat and regarding him quizzically.

  “What?”

  “You said something?”

  Shit. Had he? Had he said something out loud about his need? Fuck, he hoped not. “Didn’t say anything.”

  “Okay. See you tonight.”

  Unable to resist, Maurice asked, “Your brother still at Pleasure?”

  Head nodding slowly, Rees responded, “He is. And so is she. Little brother fucked up badly. He’s convinced he can persuade her, so we left him to it. It’s taking some time. She sure didn’t want us there—yet.” His lips twitched up at the corners, and Maurice recognized a little trip down memory lane playing out before him.

  He abruptly remembered his responsibility to Patrick. “There’d better not be something going on that I’ll have to make you regret.”

  Rees’s eyes traveled his length and back, assessing, and a full-blown smile changed the contours of his rugged face. “I believe you could. Maybe not me and Owyn together, but we tend to let one another fight our own battles. You don’t have anything to worry about, Maurice. Griffin will make it right. If ever a woman needed what we practice—what we all practice, it’s Keira. He woke her to her submission but fucked it up because of how much he loves her.”

  Despite his attempt at indifference, Maurice had to ask, “What happened?”

  “Near as we can figure, he lost
sight of the plan and she got lost. He needed a safe place to stay in order to help her find her way back, and appreciate it. And give him the chance to make it right.”

  Maurice decided to trust and let it go, but he reminded the other man. “Jon will be asking.”

  “He knows us. We came here to work at Pleasure because of him. It’ll be fine.”

  Nodding, Maurice turned away to find the rest of his clothes. Rees spoke to his back, not so much reassurance but more like brothers-in-arms.

  “Besides, he owes us. We’re the new house Doms, picking up where he left off. He can’t tear himself away from their little sub, his and Braun’s, long enough to take care of all the business. For me and Owyn it’s like being on vacation, spanking all those sweet subs red and clamping pretty nipples. Doing a stint in the hard dungeon. The fringe benefits are plain awesome.”

  Being reminded once again of his lack, Maurice didn’t reply, but the other man’s camaraderie piqued his conscience. He wouldn’t say no to a friendship with the brothers, but he had to make things up to Jon and Trevor. Lois would forgive him because she was sweet all the way through. But her men? He really regretted his actions. The Club was essentially his family, a loose collection of pervs just like him, or sort of like him, and he shouldn’t have messed with the code.

  “You like the hard dungeon.” It wasn’t a question, or a judgmental statement, but he felt himself tense at Rees’s comment.

  When he thought he could answer and not give anything away, he spoke over his shoulder. “I’m a hard Dom. I don’t tolerate any brattiness or topping from the bottom. The subs attending the hard dungeon and who aren’t claimed are rare. They require a Dom like me.”