Enough (MF)

Club Pleasure 7

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 37,941
3 Ratings (4.3)
[Siren Classic: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, public exhibition, paddling, cropping, flogging, spanking, sex toys, HEA]
Jordan Sterling is well aware he can't pursue a career as a psychologist without resolving his own central issue—that of never feeling enough. Emily Brown applied at Club Pleasure before, only to run before actually entering the scene, feeling fearful and undeserving.  
Jordan accepts Emily as a training submissive, and she has no intention of falling for her Dom, hoping only to overcome traumatic childhood issues impacting her adult relationships and find some future happiness.
Fighting their attraction, Jordan gives Emily mixed messages, making her his exclusive Club submissive and collaring her. She comes to accept what love looks and feels like, and, no longer a coward, she tells her Dom, who immediately rejects her.
Devastated—and furious, Emily must accept being released. No longer vanilla, she attends a sister club where Jordan, coming to his senses, finds her. He gives her what she needs. Him. He’s enough for her, just as she is enough for him.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Enough (MF)
3 Ratings (4.3)

Enough (MF)

Club Pleasure 7

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 37,941
3 Ratings (4.3)
In Bookshelf
In Cart
In Wish List
Available formats
Cover Art by Harris Channing
Argh! Enough already, why do they always forgive so easily?




“Your name?” His deep voice poured like caramel over her jangled nerves, and his big, fit frame seemed to take up all the available space in the room, somehow comforting her with his scent and total focus.

Emily Prentiss aka Brown literally quaked in her cute little boots, the footwear she’d chosen to wear while she played this part. She agreed to try a D/s connection because of her friend Elise Cooper, primarily because Elise was so obviously deliriously happy. And in a committed D/s relationship with an amazing Dom named Ross Lassiter. Elise had changed since meeting Ross, and Emily took careful notice of that remarkable fact. She’d changed significantly, and for the better. Emily and Elise never talked about their painful pasts but were drawn to one another because of the sisterhood of survivors. It didn’t matter what they’d survived or how old they’d been when their lives were so significantly impacted. They had a common bond. Emily actually had the temerity to wonder if she might eventually feel a hint of that happiness Elise attained.

And so here she was, taking a huge step forward in her life, yet unable to compose the syllables of her name and force them past her quivering lips. Instead, a sob spilled over, when the reason for her messed up life surged up like an evil specter against the backdrop of her churning thoughts. She instantly blanked the memory of his leering face, skilled in doing so, but like radical surgery for cancer, it also cost her all her memories, leaving her nothing to explore and cherish. Empty. Empty and lost.

“I’ve got you, little one.” Hands gently grasped her upper arms, and Emily didn’t automatically pull away. Instead, she stepped into him, and he enfolded her against his chest. He saw her angst and responded, but in a way that spoke to her and didn’t make her want to flee. He’d given her space, hadn’t pressed her, and she’d chosen to let him in. The implicit power of silence. Emily vaguely understood something momentous had just taken place but couldn’t process it because she promptly dissolved into a volley of sobs.

This Master Jordan held her and let her cry, occasionally rubbing her back in little concentric circles, resting his chin on her head, but never telling her it would be okay. Emily didn’t crave reassurance. Her parents reassured her even if they hadn’t believed her initially. Her school counsellor reassured her even when the woman was clearly out of her depth. The therapist she’d seen offered reassurance, and what did he know? Reassurance was a lie. Things would never be okay. Ever. But maybe they could be different, and enough for her.

When her own personal rainstorm subsided, he eased her onto the edge of the bed and helped her perch there. Emily’s knees felt weak, and it wasn’t just from the exhaustion of crying. She was aware of an undeniable attraction to this Dom who was amazingly hot with his muscled physique shown off by a tight shirt and leathers that lovingly cupped his ass. A handsome face with dark, mysterious eyes and a full head of black hair with just enough curl to tempt her fingers to stroke it completed his appeal. He exuded the temptation of mind-blowing sex, the kind she dreamed about and hoped to have. Master Jordan Sterling.

It was probably just because her emotional guard was down. She was here to explore D/s and perhaps find that something she’d been searching for to ease the painful emptiness. Even if she wasn’t sure what that something was. It didn’t hurt she found him so very attractive.

Master Jordan carefully wiped her face with some tissues, and she was glad she’d obeyed the rules and went with light makeup. He stepped back. “Let’s try again. Your name?”

“Emily. Emily Prentiss. I mean, Brown. I used to be Prentiss.” Didn’t anyone tell him her name? Or did he train so many submissives that he couldn’t keep up? And why on earth had she told him her real name? She’d left all of that behind her when she moved here, all the memories, all the knowing looks resulting from the media coverage. Breaking news in a small town where people had nothing better to do that chew on the hardships of others and roll their eyes as they contemplated her debauchery. It turned her stomach.

“Tell me what brought that on, Emily.”

She blinked, once again yanked from bitter thoughts. He waited, never taking his eyes from hers. And waited. Patience. That was okay. Emily could outwait the devil. She’d had a ton of practice. The world narrowed down to the two of them, invisibly connected.

“I’m not sure.” Was that her? Master Jordan wasn’t the devil. She hoped.




“Does anyone ever get close to knowing the real Emily?”

Swallowing against the huge lump in her throat, she managed to answer. “I don’t even know who that is.”

“You will, sweetheart. You will.”

“Okay.” The uncertainty and doubt in her voice resounded in that one word. But she was more concerned she might not like the person she found.

“I have something to take your mind off all those uncertainties and ruminations, sub. Learn about others and forget about focusing on yourself. Knees. Eyes on me.”

The command jolted her from her sad speculation, as he no doubt intended, and she slipped to the floor where a pillow awaited her. When he wasn’t prying open her mind or smacking her ass, he was gentle with her. The blanket was swept away, and she knelt before him with nothing to veil her body or her thoughts.

Master Jordan casually unlaced his leathers, stretching his long legs out on either side of her. The flex of his fingers mesmerized her, and as the panel fell away, she was rewarded with the thrust of his cock, thick and hard, the mushroom head glistening above the hood of the foreskin. Master Jordan was big all over, and she swallowed in anticipation.

“Use both hands, sub.”

Shuffling forward, she grasped his shaft, easing the thin sleeve of skin downward, hiding her satisfaction when he stifled an intake of air and his thighs tightened. The soft, velvety feel made her rub her cheek against him, and she inhaled his musk and reveled in his sultry heat. Turning her face, she drifted her mouth over the wide glans, flicking her tongue into the slit to taste the beading pre-cum, before widening her lips to take him inside.

Jordan then wrested control, threading his fingers through her hair to guide her movements. “You watch your teeth, sweetheart, and use your lips to work the foreskin. Suck.”

This wasn’t her favorite thing, and the men she dated would hardly dare demand it, but her Dom was hardly like those men. And she’d checked off the oral sex box on that damn questionnaire, not considering oral sex went both ways. His earthy, salty taste soothed her just as his relentless hold on her head thrilled that part of her longing to be told, to be dominated, and to simply exist in the moment.

The deeper he pressed, the harder it became to suck him, remember to cover her teeth and use her tongue on a particularly sensitive spot she’d discovered on the first few passes. She became a vessel for his pleasure, his hands managing her movements and his low, demanding voice exhorting her to swallow him down. Saliva escaped from the corners of her mouth, and her jaw began to ache as she breathed through her nose and fought her gag reflex. The impossible size of his shaft as it swelled with release packed her mouth, and he came so deep in her throat there was only a rushing sensation of thick, hot fluid to fill her belly.

He eased her away, and his cock slipped free, wet from her efforts and his own. “Fuck me, sweetheart, you please me.”

The soreness in her jaw magically vanished, as did the awareness of sticky smears of cum and spit on her cheeks and chin. Master Jordan stared at her with such approval and appreciation Emily decided blow jobs weren’t her least favorite thing after all.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he reached for a box of tissues and extracted a handful, then leaned to mop her face dry. “We need to discuss birth control.”

Yes, indeed. Intercourse was another tick in the box, and the idea of fucking this man was now high on her agenda. She was greedy and wanted to experience it all before—she noted the tightening in her throat. This experience was finite, and that was a scary thought. Before she could consider why, he interrupted her train of thinking.

“Emily. Focus. What’s in your head?”

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