Enough [Club Pleasure 7] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  “Do you have any plans for today?”

  Was he asking her to be polite or because he wanted to do something together? Maybe her desire to see him sans clothing was going to be fulfilled.

  The slender woman passed them in a blur of motion, heels clicking on the tiles with a staccato beat, hands holding a small purse tightly against her chest. Emily registered a look of anticipation tinged with terror on the other woman’s face before she was out the door, the faint smell of soap trailing behind her. Jordan looked as shocked as Emily felt, and she cast a quick look over her shoulder at the table where Master Patrick and Master Jon still sat.

  The air rang with laughter, and Master Patrick tipped back his head as he guffawed. Master Jon shoved his chair back so hard it fell over, then pounded out of the atrium, his face granite-like and his eyes flashing. Emily shivered and looked at Jordan.

  Another real smile turned his lips up, the surprised look fading, and he squeezed her hand. “Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. He’ll catch her, but Jon is incapable of hurting a woman, except in a good way. Whatever is about to happen won’t be a concern, although I’d like to be there to witness it. Jon’s fallen ass over heels for little Lois, and I expect they’ve got something to work out. It’ll be a scene for the record books.”

  Her sex dampened, a combination of how Jordan was now drifting a fingertip over the palm of her hand in suggestive little motions, the warmth of his bigger hand encompassing her own, and the thought of an imminent capture scene playing out in the Club. What would it be like to have Jordan stake his claim on her?

  * * * *

  He read the signals, the increasing heat of her skin against his, the slight dilation of her pupils, and the subtle flush climbing from the neckline of her blouse up her throat to paint her cheeks. When she moistened her lips, the pointed end of her tongue flickering out to coat the perfect upper bow shape, Jordan decided not to send Emily on her way to fill her day with whatever she had intended. The hit to his gut resulting from her reasonable question, the one sparking a memory of Olivia, hadn’t lasted, and he really wanted to capitalize on Emily’s increasing arousal. The little wench might appreciate role-play, and it’d been a long time since he’d indulged in a scene incorporating it.

  “I’d like to show you a room we missed last night, sub.”

  A certain tightening around her eyes announced her awareness of his shift into Dom mode—and maybe something else—but his cock was lengthening in anticipation of a Monday full of enticement and pleasure.

  “I’d like that.”

  Helping her up, he escorted her from the atrium, the connection between them thrumming as a live thing. Gaining the theme room, Jordan dug into one of the wardrobes set against the wall, while Emily stared wide eyed at the huge bed, decked out in sumptuous bedding that hid a variety of restraints.

  “Change into these, sub, and hide anywhere on this floor. Choose your hiding place well, because if I find you within thirty minutes, you’ll pay for running from me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her eyes were so dilated the gorgeous blue was only a fine circle around the pupils.

  Breasts lifting in response to her increased breathing, Emily plucked the harem girl’s jeweled attire from his hands, the gauzy strips of fabrics flowing over her arms.

  “And, Emily? Be glad you ate breakfast, because you’re going to need all your energy.”

  He hustled from the room before he burst out laughing at the terrified look on her face, one warring with mounting arousal, and went to change into his leathers. He figured she’d need a few minutes to figure out how to don the fantasy outfit, and wondered how long it would take for her to find the perfect spot to try and avoid him. Jordan knew the Club like the back of his hand, and there were only so many places for a thrilled little sub to take cover. He ached to fuck her and allowed himself a complacent smile.

  As he rounded the corner, he saw Jon push into his own quarters, Lois hanging over one shoulder, and the door shut with controlled violence. Jordan smiled to himself. Big, bad Jon brought low by a scrap of a woman. He sobered, thinking of another scrap of a woman awaiting his pleasure, and reminded himself to keep his boundaries in place. The reminder didn’t stop him from crossing to the top drawer in his nightstand after donning his leathers. The delicate chain supporting the interwoven, stylistic thorns surrounding a finely crafted rose glinted up at him from where it coiled on the black velvet.

  He’d visited the specialty store, not looking for anything in particular, although thinking perhaps of some nipple jewelry for Emily, when he spotted the necklace in the back of the case. It appeared to be made for her, and rather than choose a training collar, he asked the proprietor to wrap it up. Almost of its own volition, his hand reached out to pick the collar up from the velvet, and then he snatched it back and shut the drawer. Probably not the best time to collar her in a capture theme when emotions would be running high. But it would be a nice piece for Emily to keep as a memento when the time came for him to release her.

  Not bothering to deaden his footsteps, he bounded down the stairs in anticipation, then took measured strides along the deserted hallway of the scene rooms. It was almost eerily quiet during the daytime, the normally pounding beat of rock or heavy metal music absent. The sounds made by the members he took for granted weren’t available to muffle his progress—or the frightened little pants of an aroused submissive.

  She was in the third room he checked, the medical room, small body tucked away behind an angled cabinet, and it was only the sparkle of the fabric she wore, piercing the gloom, that gave her presence away. He sauntered off, taking care to have her believe he was continuing the search, and was rewarded with one of those little huffs of breath Emily gave when she was frustrated or relieved.

  Turning on his heel, he managed to gain entry back into the room without making a noise, flicking on the harsh overhead lighting to her dismayed little shriek. He closed and locked the door behind him, although the viewing windows were open and the cameras would be working. Jordan hesitated, then mentally shrugged. If things played out the way he intended, given his sub’s choice of scene room, he’d take care to have Jon edit any footage. This was between him and Emily.

  “Come here, little miss.” He made sure his tone conveyed the expectation she’d obey him while infusing amusement.

  Her eyes narrowed as she entered into the spirit of the game. “No. I don’t want you anywhere near me. You have no right keeping me here.”

  “If I have to come and get you, you’ll be punished. Come here, now.”

  Bottom lip pouting out convincingly, Emily replied. “I refuse.”

  “You’ll refuse me nothing, wench.”

  Shrieking in an entirely arousing manner, she evaded his sudden lunge in her direction, and took refuge on the other side of the stainless steel table, attempting to keep it as a barrier between them. Jordan swallowed a chuckle at how incongruent Emily’s outfit looked amongst all the modern accoutrements of the parodies of medicine applied in this room. Her breasts were concealed fetchingly behind the heavily jeweled bra, but the wisps of fabric around her hips, falling from the jeweled belt, barely covered her sex as they floated around the length of her legs. His cock ached behind his leathers and he shifted his stance for comfort.

  Thinking to play with her a little, he sprang one way then the other, watching her svelte body shift to copy his movements, her cleavage swelling with every breath. Fuck. With his longer reach, he would likely be able to win this particular battle, and he wished he hadn’t closed the door, because a vision of her running, screaming down the hallway, with him in hot pursuit, really appealed. He wanted to take her ass, claim her as intimately as a man could claim a woman, and thought to arouse her as much as possible.

  They circled, Emily’s face now prettily flushed, soft lips parted to allow her tongue to flicker out and dampen them. The scent of aroused woman filled the air.

  “Let me go. My family will pay well for me.”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t take you for the money, wench. I took you for me. To be my plaything, you and your virginal ways. I’ll be relieving you of them shortly.”

  Emily huffed again, and her eyes dilated. “Never.”

  If ever a negative lacked conviction, that one surely did, and Jordan let himself smile. He stepped back, rewarded with her sudden look of concern, perhaps thinking that he was respecting her wishes. Opening the door, he gestured through the aperture. “Go then. Run home.”

  Blinking uncertainly, Emily slipped around the far end of the table and pattered out the door with a quick glance over her shoulder at him. Jordan moved in that moment, and she released a scream to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end—and his cock harden and swell to painful proportions.

  Fleet of foot, she ran faster than he’d anticipated, and despite his considerable height, he very nearly didn’t catch her before she made the doorway to the stairs. He bore her down amidst a flurry of fabric, twisting to ensure he took the brunt of the fall before rolling to put her under him. The clasp of the bra gave way against the sudden shift in movement, and her breasts fell free, the tender skin marked with the outline of the applied jewels. Jordan surveyed them with satisfaction and lowered his head to suckle at one nipple, then the other, pinning Emily’s slender wrists with no effort as she attempted to flail against him.

  A judicious nip on a beaded tip made her cease her efforts to writhe away, and he lifted his face far enough to stare into her wide eyes. “You will return to the medical room.”

  The pulse in the hollow of her throat hammered even faster, a staccato beat he bent to lick across, savoring the taste of her there. He raised her up with him, holding one arm in a loose clasp. Emily shivered, but obviously not from cold. He could feel the heat emanating from her skin. With a casual move, he stripped away the pieces of material now hanging limply around her lower body, enjoying how she gasped.

  “Please, Sir. Please. Don’t hurt me.”

  “You won’t get out of your punishment with just a pretty beg, wench.”

  “Then what can I do?” Such a sweet, mournful tone in her question, belying the obvious signs of pure arousal.

  “You can please me. With your mouth.”

  The look of horror swamping her features was so convincing, Jordan’s sadist leapt to the forefront, and he levered her to her knees. She lowered her eyes, but not before he caught the flash of smug satisfaction. The little minx. Who was captivating who?

  Impatiently fumbling with the laces, he opened his leathers and allowed his cock to burst free, the length of it rubbing along Emily’s cheek. He flinched when she rubbed against him, the satin of her skin a kitten’s caress.

  “Open your mouth.” He deliberately infused the darkest Dom tone he possessed, and her head came up, big blue eyes widening.

  “But, Sir. I’ve never—”

  “Silence!”

  Emily shivered again, and a certain languor came over her entire body, softening her mouth and allowing her shoulders to drop. She opened just wide enough for him to set the head of his cock on her pouty bottom lip. Jordan worked his hands into the thickness of her curls and anchored her head.

  “Wider. And you keep your hands on your thighs or I’ll take a switch to you.”

  A puff of hot air enveloped his cock, and Emily’s tongue flickered over the slit. Female and male arousal perfumed the air. Jordan was of two minds. Should he correct her for teasing him or allow her the enjoyment of her status, on her knees, servicing him, and clearly aware of the sway she held over him? He elected to meld the two.

  Surging against her mouth, he pushed past her lips, aware how she immediately curled them to cover her teeth, as he worked his way to the back of her throat, the ridge of her palate a linear pressure while her tongue caressed the sensitive underside. In and nearly out, he forged a pattern to gain the best sensations, and his submissive accommodated him, somehow managing her gag reflex. Saliva leaked from the corners of her tightly held mouth, as she breathed through her nose and blinked the hint of moisture from her eyes. Jordan wanted to make this time last forever, but felt his release boiling in his balls, lifting him onto the balls of his feet, and with a low groan emptied himself down Emily’s throat.

  She swallowed him as before, and as his wits returned, he carefully withdrew, supporting her jaw, stroking along the aggrieved muscles and joints. He struggled to come up with something appropriate to say, something fitting the scene, and made a feeble attempt.

  “Your virgin mouth is a pleasure, wench.”

  After giving him a mutinous glance, she ignored him. He tucked himself away then bundled her over his shoulder, smacking the curve of her buttocks as she pounded her small fists against his back and shrieked threats about her clan finding him. Making him pay. He wondered if the subject matter wasn’t too close to her trauma and listened carefully, then reached between her thighs. The copious moisture there reassured him, and he bore her back to the medical room.

  Beneath the glare of the unforgiving lighting—Doms wanted to see everything they were doing very clearly in this room—he eased his furious burden onto the table where the jeweled belt clattered against the stainless steel.

  “Holy crap, that’s cold!”

  Leering down at her, he said, “You won’t be cold for long, little miss.”

  He held her in place with one hand pressed against her belly, feeling the muscles beneath her silky skin ripple and relax as she squirmed to evade. Looping a restraint around one flailing hand, much as a cowboy might lasso a recalcitrant steer, not that he’d confide that comparison to Emily, he tightened it with a careful jerk, and she froze. Her momentary stillness gave him the opportunity to secure her free hand, and he quickly tugged her down the table to stretch her out, full breasts on display, taut nipples pointing at the ceiling.

  Using his superior strength as a weight to hold one long leg at bay, he set the opposite foot into the padded stirrup, the wide cuffs snugging her ankle tightly. After repeating the process with the other foot, he stepped back a pace to take in his nicely restrained submissive. Her labia were puffy with arousal, the pink folds glistening with moisture, and she squirmed before his gaze.

  “What are you going to do?” He could tell it was difficult for her to act the worried virgin captive because she was so needy.

  “I’m going to get your other orifices ready for my claiming, little miss.” With a press of a button, the table beneath her hips tilted up to give him even better access to her pussy and ass.

  * * * *

  Emily sucked air into her heaving lungs. She was so aroused by their play she wanted to beg Jordan to fuck her hard and ease the impossible ache inside. The anticipation of waiting for him to find her, after figuring out how to wear the sexy costume, had been shockingly exciting. And the dialogue, coupled with the mad chase down the hallway…The blowjob had lit a fire deep within. On her knees, stripped and at his mercy, she’d been able to imagine such a hard man and a virginal lass stolen away for his pleasure. A captive in love with her captor.

  She tried not to squirm before his intent gaze on her pussy, knowing her wetness pleased him, but trying to stay focused in the game. But the lift of the table, leaving her open, absolutely nothing left to the imagination, made it difficult. When Jordan locked eyes with her, she knew he read what was written in her own. He came to kiss her almost savagely, and she forgot to stay in character, forgot to try to turn her head away, instead relishing the heated press and taste of him as he explored and claimed the recesses of her mouth.

  Breaking the kiss, he breathed heavily while she forgot to do so and watched him move away to a closed cabinet. Filling her lungs, she remembered her role.

  “Please, Sir. What are you doing now?”

  When he ignored her, Emily focused on the sounds his movements created. A tinkle sounded, and he turned with a handful of chain spilling from his big hand. Nipple clamps for sure. And a speculum? A queasy feeling overtook her, and Jordan hesitated. Wi
th a casual gesture he tossed the speculum aside, and she relaxed. He read her well, and her anxiousness must have been written on her face. The yawning of a particularly evil-looking pair of clamps took her attention and she flinched, but her Master knew better this time.

  Sucking one anxious nipple into a lengthy tip, he applied the clamp, barely giving her time to breathe through the painful pressure before he attached the other, the length of chain drifting over her sternum to lie against her rib cage. Jordan reached overhead and drew a rope down on a ratchet, then secured the chain to the carbineer on the end. The thickness of the woven twine was a big contrast to the delicate chain, but the effect was the same had he used something thinner. Her breasts were tugged aloft, and if she moved at all the pain at her nipples wasn’t precisely pleasant, although would only contribute to her pleasure when she was allowed to come. In the meantime it worked very well to keep her still and acquiescent.

  Emily hadn’t forgotten his promise to claim all of her orifices. She was truly virginal when it came to her anus, because anal play wasn’t the same as a cock being shoved in there. She liked what Jordan did to her but wasn’t really certain about anal sex. A slap on her inner thigh made her flinch away, and her nipples sang.

  “Owww!”

  “You pay attention, wench. Eyes and mind on me.” He pulled a latex glove over the length of his left hand, smoothing it up over his wrist.