Apt [Running to Love 6] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Running to Love 6

  Apt

  Dave Cutticio's slow climb from the depths of despair following his tour in Afghanistan began with waking up after a drunken rampage to a lovely young woman tenderly bathing his battered face. Fearing his dark, unfettered desire for the innocent Fiona Lambert, Dave returns to Tulsa and finds employment at his comrade-in-arms' BDSM Club. He capitalizes on his dominant side and also receives personal therapy, coming to believe that he soon needs to return to Fiona and tell her a formal good-bye. Especially now that he is a Dom.

  Fiona circumvents him, showing up at the club to proclaim her love. Dave is not yet ready to accept that she feels more for him than sympathy and affection. Rejected, Fiona seeks out another BDSM club to explore her own dark needs and try to heal her broken heart. When Dave is invited to tour Unleashed, the newly trained Dom and sub are reunited in a blaze of passion.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 25,982 words

  APT

  Running to Love 6

  Allyson Young

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  APT

  Copyright © 2012 by Allyson Young

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-866-4

  First E-book Publication: November 2012

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 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 Apt 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

  For Lydia, friend by wonderful accident.

  APT

  Running to Love 6

  ALLYSON YOUNG

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  Dave Cutticio opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of his Spartan quarters. His place was situated in the back of the Club, and neither he nor his boss and buddy, Alistair Frayne, who’d lived there before he married Dave’s sister Jackie, had the need for luxury. In fact, denying themselves was a pastime, even if ’Stair had moved on. Jackie had managed to replace the linens and have the walls painted, but he’d refused anything further, and she was too busy taking care of her partners and coping with her pregnancy to wheedle and get her little decorating way with him.

  The past months had been an eye-opener, and actually quite healing. He still had insomnia, and woke at the damndest times, but he didn’t have nightmares anymore, or at least rarely. He now had a sense of purpose. He was well on his way to becoming a full-fledged Dom, no longer a broken, suicidal human being, and he liked it. He liked being in control again. He wasn’t complete, but that was his fault. Fiona had offered herself, all of her, but he hadn’t dared. He’d tried really hard for her and had begun to change back to Dave, the parts of him she glimpsed past his self-destructive and asshole behavior. But he’d been so afraid it wouldn’t be enough. He had still struggled to manage his violent outbursts and his desire to die. Afghanistan had been a little hell on earth, and he’d been no angel, so if it meant he needed to die to roast eternally, then he’d thought he might take the opportunity. No punishment had seemed great enough. Then Fiona had given him hope and a reason to live, yet he’d run from her like a craven coward and had sent her just the one note to apologize and tell her he was alive and fine, not to worry, and good-bye. And now that he was nearly a Dom, a relationship with her was out of the question. She was an innocent, and despite his vastly improved self control, he couldn’t take the risk with her. He wanted her too much, loved her too much to expect her to accept him as he was now.

  He gave up on sleeping and swung his legs out of bed, wincing as his weight transferred to his ass. The good doctor had demonstrated the fine art of plugging an unwilling anus the night before, and if the accompanying orgasm had been spectacular, it didn’t take away from the fact that his bottom hole was a tad tender, not to mention his buttocks. That probably had been the toughest lesson of all, and one that was going to be repeated a few more times, apparently, but he wasn’t allowed to do anything with a submissive until he’d experienced everything he planned to do to them himself. The nipple clamps weren’t his favorite either, but the thought of Fiona’s pert little ones adorned with…He cut that thought off mid-hard-on. Fiona was no longer part of his life, and he couldn’t expect her to participate in such things. Probably why he’d agreed to the training in the first place, to give himself another reason to keep even her memory at arm’s length. He would just have to become the best house Dom Tulsa ever knew and make the best of things. He’d already used up his second chance, and he wouldn’t tempt fate.

  He roamed through the darkened Club, the scene and viewing rooms looming strange and foreign when not filled with the sounds of correction and sex. None of the member rooms were in use on this weekday night, and if he was a lesser man, the quiet and emptiness would have spooked him, but he truly was coming back to himself. Dr. Massey praised him, calling him an apt pupil with total focus, exceptional effort, and diligence. The front of the club was a bit brighter, lit by the filter of the streetlamps through the frosted glass. Dave did a final turn past the bar and made a mental note to do an inventory later on in the day before openi
ng.

  Alistair spent less and less time at the Club, having become the consummate family man, a fact that pleased Dave to no end, considering the man was married to Jackie. Who was also married to Ashley, which was fucking convoluted but seemed to work well all the same. He didn’t care what any number of people did in bed together so long as it was safe, sane, and consensual, and quite liked the idea of becoming an uncle again. Kids weren’t in his future because the only woman he’d want as their mom was Fiona, so he’d lavish lots of attention on all of his nephews and nieces. He kind of hoped that Jackie would have a baby girl just to mess with ’Stair’s head a little. Her dating years would keep his old comrade-in-arms hopping, although Uncle Dave would back him up. That little girl would be protected from every angle. If the kid was a boy, then he’d be mentored by two of the best, because Dave was nearly solid again, and there was no question about Alistair. In the meantime he’d run the Club for ’Stair, seeing as his old friend had given him the means to come totally back from the brink, and continue his training as a Dom.

  The patrol finished, Dave made his way back to his lonely bed. He arranged himself strategically and allowed himself to appreciate the fine thread count of the ivory-colored sheets and light coverlet against his skin. Maybe a little comfort wasn’t so bad. This time he felt himself drift off, the brief physical activity and sane, normal thoughts having done their job.

  * * * *

  “Hey! We had a date!” Jackie’s familiar voice penetrated his dreams. Dreams, not nightmares, but damn it all, he’d been dreaming of Fiona. He pried his eyes open and looked into his sister’s sweet face and mischievous eyes.

  “Why are you in my quarters?” he rasped through a phlegmy throat as he ran a hand over his face. “You need to learn to knock, little sister.”

  “The door was open, Dave, and I did knock on the doorjamb of the bedroom, but you were snoring so loud I expect I could have paraded the entire Club membership through here without you stirring! Big Dom-training night?”

  “Go away, Jacks. Go wait for me in the front. Or make coffee or something. I forgot we were going clothes shopping today. Maybe give me a rain check.” He ignored her comment about training just as he’d ignored all the others. It felt weird and not a little unsettling to think that she’d experienced pretty much everything at Alistair’s hands that he had at Dr. Massey’s. He sure as shit wasn’t going to discuss it with her.

  “I got myself down here to take you shopping, Dave, and we’re going. I look like I swallowed a watermelon, and my feet are puffy, but it’s my day off and you promised, so get out of bed, and let’s go.”

  Dave surrendered to the inevitable and sat up, pushing the covers back as he did so. Jackie shrieked and covered her eyes. “Oh, my god. I don’t want to see my brother’s junk!”

  Dave yanked the sheet around his morning wood, flushing. His ass had been too tender to wear boxers, but he’d forgotten. Jackie peeked between her fingers and bent a huge smile on him before turning her petite frame, complete with said watermelon bump, toward his kitchen. She called over her shoulder, “Not that it isn’t an impressive package!”

  Dave shook his head. She was irrepressible, and he loved her more than all his other siblings. He bet it took Alistair and Ashley both to keep up with her. A snuffle at his feet had him nearly jumping onto the bed, his right hand scrabbling for the weapon he hadn’t carried for years. Fuck, it was Jackie’s goddamn dog, Beau. The thing moved like a ghost. Alistair felt better if the animal went where Jackie went if he couldn’t go. And today, clothes-shopping day, was obviously a day Alistair felt he couldn’t go with her. Traitor. Beau would eat anyone who even hinted at being any tiny threat to Jackie. He rubbed the dog’s ears, and the pit bull smiled up at him, the pale blue eyes in the white face quite unnerving despite the obvious friendliness. Here was loyalty.

  “I guess we’re going clothes shopping, fella. I’m kind of into collars these days, so maybe I’ll get you one. One with spikes and shit.”

  Beau’s tail thumped, and he nuzzled Dave’s hand. Jackie had rescued him, so the animal’s first loyalty was to her, but he’d accepted all the people Jackie loved without reservation. Dave patted his shoulder and then headed off to shower and get dressed to brave the stores with his little sis.

  Chapter Two

  He dumped the bags onto his bed and sank down beside them, easing the shoes off his aching, tired feet. Jackie could talk the hind end off a donkey and even in her advancing state of pregnancy could walk it off, too. But he appeared to have obtained a completely new wardrobe, although he doubted he’d go anywhere often enough to wear out the several pairs of jeans and dress pants. The crisp shirts would wear well with his leathers, though, and he definitely needed the socks. The new leather boots were excellent. Jackie had an exacting eye and a nose for value. She hadn’t wasted a penny of his money. The silk boxers that seemed extravagant in the store probably weren’t, in retrospect. Dave pushed up and stowed all his purchases before heading off to shower again and don his working duds. He still needed to do the bar inventory and ensure a couple of the correction rooms were ready for tonight. At least his ass wasn’t being hung this time around.

  * * * *

  “How’s it going?” Alistair looked every inch the Dom in his own leathers and snowy white shirt, despite the fact that he wasn’t a big guy. Dave well remembered how ’Stair moved and how deadly he’d been in the field.

  “Everything’s set, ’Stair. Although I’m worn out from shopping with your wife.”

  “She wears me out, period, Dave. And shopping with her is the worst kind of torture.”

  “Worse than Afghanistan.” The words fell from his mouth before Dave could consider them.

  Alistair locked eyes with him and stared him down. Dave withstood it and rejoiced that he could even joke a little about it now. His friend relaxed, and his eyes filled with nothing less than relief and pleasure. “Probably a fair comparison.”

  They walked in companionable silence to the office and looked over the night’s schedule.

  “Meredith says you’re pretty much trained.”

  “Well, the good doctor knows her stuff, and her off-site therapy ain’t bad either.”

  “You back to normal?”

  “I’ve never been normal, ’Stair, but I’m good. No nightmares, no shakes, no compulsions. I’m in control. I owe you, buddy, you and Dr. Massey.”

  “You owe me squat, Dave. You’re family. But I think you might owe somebody else for starting you on the journey back.”

  Dave stepped back and shook his head. “Nope. I guess it’s time to open up.”

  Alistair narrowed his eyes and gave him a “you’re full of shit” look, raising an eyebrow to invite a confidence.

  Dave ignored him and strode out of the office, making his way to the front entrance to pull back the dead bolt. The members had the code of the week, and the cop who pulled door duty would soon be there to play bouncer to doubly ensure privacy. This Club catered to cops and ex-military and the like, and those with sexual interests not prevalent in the general public. They appreciated a safe, secure place to enact them. Yet another cop would man the bar, and that would free Dave up to work one of the correction rooms. Alysha and Jorge were up tonight, and he’d gladly monitor Jorge’s action. Alysha was kind of a pain slut, and Dave thought it might help him get past his slight squeamishness of raising even temporary welts on a woman’s sensitive skin. He tried not to think about her, but Fiona’s skin was really fair, despite her fall of ebony hair. His family hailed from the north of Italy, hence the predominance of fair skin and blond hair. Fiona was Scottish with a healthy helping of black Irish. Her blue eyes were like the surface of the lochs her father recounted with such wistfulness. The dark blue of depth shifted to gray to reflect her changing moods. Alysha was model gorgeous, but Fiona was the epitome of everything Dave ever wanted in a woman.

  No good could come from it, but he thought of her. And Dr. Massey was pushing him harder, ha
rder toward disclosing his final secret. Fiona. ’Stair had picked up on it, too, and Dave knew exactly when that happened.

  He’d told his buddy when he’d come back to the Club all those months ago that he was trying not to curse like he was still in the military, that he wasn’t supposed to. Fiona winced every time he said the “f” word, and he’d have done anything for her. Anything except stay with her and let her see the piece of shit he really was, the monster he’d become in his chosen career, something even the best intentions couldn’t always hide. Dave shook his head hard. The memory tattered and he tucked the pieces away. Maybe it was time to confide in Dr. Massey and see if he could put it behind him forever. This wasn’t the place to be thinking about Fiona anyhow. She was special, and although now, because of his training, Dave knew she was a born submissive, this place would send her screaming into the street. His cock twitched its disagreement, but he ignored it with the ease that came from long practice. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of life.

  The cop for the door came in and nodded to him, although they didn’t speak. Dave didn’t know him very well because he rarely attended the Club and was pretty taciturn. Dave respected that. Jeff Staples didn’t attend the Club anymore for sexual interests after his wife, well, he and his partner Devon Rust’s wife Alex got fucked over here, but he still helped out. Maybe he hoped Alex would come back here someday. Dave could understand the pride and pleasure these Dominants got from showing off their subs. The intensity of the relationships really pulled at him, and he let himself flirt with the idea even if he’d never commit to one. It was a sweet kind of self-torture and well suited for self-punishment.