HIS OBSESSION.

The Owners.

Sam Crescent.

DEDICATION.

This one is for my family and my readers. Without both of you, my stories would never be told. Thank you so much for your continued support and encouragement. This means the world to me.

Chapter One.

Stephen Knox stared at his friend Cadeon Ashwood where he sat across the room with his woman, Violet, who sat in his lap. It had been three months since some sick f.u.c.k had tried to take Violet and use her as a s.e.x slave in his prost.i.tution business. Fortunately, with the help of other members at the exclusive club, Violet had been saved.

Stephen took another long drink of his whiskey over ice, wondering what the draw was to his own club. Many men joined this club because of the possessive way they felt towards women. The consuming need inside them to mark their women as their own dominated any other need. Some of the men referred to themselves as "The Owners". Stephen chuckled behind his gla.s.s. There were times he wondered why he didn't close the club down. Watching the men with their women made him aware of how little he actually had in life. Being a wealthy businessman no longer made the grade for him. He lifted his empty gla.s.s to the woman working behind the bar. She nodded her head, filled another gla.s.s, and then took him the refill. Stephen took the gla.s.s, turning his gaze to the woman on stage. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, but she would never make it as a singer.

Cadeon joined him while Violet disappeared out of the room.

"You're looking grumpy," Cadeon said.

"And I don't recognise you without your woman in your lap." Stephen drained the whiskey and raised his gla.s.s for more.

"You're drinking too much."

Stephen shot him a look, one of his don't-f.u.c.king-mess-with-me looks. "I'm older than you. Don't start with me. You're sounding like a nagging wife."

"You're five years older than I, Stephen. There is nothing you can say to me to shut me up."

"I'll take away your membership and ban you from this club and get a word against you in Ravage." He'd do it. His reputation for being a hard-a.s.s hadn't been earned out of thin air.

Cadeon did not get a chance to comment as Tate and Kevin took their seats around his table. The two men looked utterly depressed.

"What's wrong with you two?" Stephen asked. He couldn't believe they were invading his s.p.a.ce. Couldn't he have two moments of peace and quiet?

Each man glared at him before they signalled to the woman behind the bar for another drink. Sean joined them last, looking p.i.s.sed off.

Stephen ignored him and went back to his drink, which the woman handed straight to him.

"Do you have any idea what it's like trying to date the woman you love inside a house? Rebecca refuses to even try to leave her home," Tate said.Stephen ignored him and went back to his quiet drink. He began thinking about the young woman he'd just hired to clean his house and cook his meals. Ursula Mills was a charming twenty-two-year-old college woman with an att.i.tude, who did nothing but talk when she was in his company. She talked non-stop about anything, her courses that she was studying in college or a book she'd finished. There really was no stopping her.

She had the most beautiful deep brown hair he'd ever seen. Her hair looked similar to the shade of mahogany wood. When he'd told her his thoughts about the colour of her hair, she'd given him a death stare.

"My hair is not made out of wood," she'd said with that stern, authoritative tone. He chuckled, thinking about the way she had placed her hand on her generous hip while she had glared at him. It had been years since a woman had had the courage to glare at him. If she'd been his woman, he would have taken her over his knee and spanked that full a.s.s days ago.

"Someone looks like he's in a nice place," Cadeon said, pulling him out of his musings. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"You don't look like the type of man to be chuckling about nothing."

Stephen glared at Cadeon and refused to comment. The singing stopped, and he watched the woman leave the table. He couldn't recall her name as he employed so many people to work at Club Possession. He drained his gla.s.s and stood. His ride would be waiting outside for him. Usually he stayed to the last client left, but tonight he wanted to get home. Ursula had promised to cook his dinner for eight o'clock.

"See you tomorrow, gentlemen." Stephen shook their hands then turned around and left.

He went back to his office where Lucas Sanchez stood waiting for him. He'd met the guy a few months back when Sean had introduced him. The guy wanted to join the club, but he didn't have the income to match the rules. Stephen had liked the guy on the first meeting but knew he couldn't break the rules to allow him access. However, giving him a job as an a.s.sistant manager meant Lucas could work and get all the perks for being Stephen's right-hand man. There was some bad blood between Sean and Lucas. Stephen hadn't asked. He didn't want to get between them.

"What's the matter, Lucas?" he asked, grabbing his coat from his chair.

"Another ten requests for members to join, along with a further pet.i.tion for you to build a playroom downstairs instead of having the self-defence room." Lucas handed him the files. Stephen glared down at the pet.i.tion. There were over fifty names on the form.

"f.u.c.king playroom. That's what Ravage is f.u.c.king for." He threw the file on his desk. There was a reason he didn't have dominance playrooms. It was an agreement that his father and the previous owner of the BDSM club had arranged. If couples played in their private room then fine, but to have a public room was against that written agreement. "I'm sick and tired of men thinking they can run my own club."

Lucas didn't say a word. He rarely did.

"I'll talk to James to try to get him to allow more people to join his club."

"I doubt he will. James won't allow just anyone to join. They have to go through many tests," Lucas said.

"Are you a member?"

"Yes. I'm a Master at the club. Money is not a requirement for him. You have to have the skills to punish and care for a submissive. I have those skills."

Stephen could only imagine. He was a member of Ravage, but he preferred to play with a woman in private. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Keep an eye on everything, and make sure nothing gets out of hand. I'll see you tomorrow."

He left out of the back door where his allocated driver was waiting. Sitting in the back, he relaxed. No conversation pa.s.sed between the driver and him. He welcomed the quiet more than conversation. Thirty minutes later his driver pulled up outside his gate and pressed the code before driving down the long road to get to the front of his house. This was the house that had been pa.s.sed down to the first-born son of the next generation. If he didn't get a son soon he wouldn't have an heir to pa.s.s down the club and the Knox family legacy. He dismissed the driver and walked inside. The moment he walked inside his house the scent of garlic and basil a.s.sailed his nose. His mouth watered, and he moved in the direction of the kitchen.

"Ouch. Motherf.u.c.ker." He heard Ursula curse, followed by a hiss. Stephen smiled, opened the door, and leaned against the wall watching her.

She was draining some pasta, licking her thumb as she watched the water drain away. Ursula had pulled her hair back in a ponytail while she cooked. She wore a simple red shirt and a pair of jeans. Her full, luscious body was outlined for him to gaze at. Most women were completely obsessed with their weight and the need to be a size zero. Ursula was all curves and nothing bony about her. Her t.i.ts were large, and she had a small waist spilling out to full hips. She turned around, showing him her a.s.s. He wondered how she would fill his hand. Then he imagined her above him, riding his c.o.c.k as he cupped her a.s.s in his hands.

f.u.c.king pervert. She's younger than you. You shouldn't be thinking about her like that.

Stephen pulled away from the wall with the intent of letting her know he was home.

"Evening, Stephen. You know instead of watching you could pick up that spoon and begin stirring," she said.

Stephen smiled. He would love to spank her a.s.s.

Ursula smacked her employer with a spoon before grabbing the pasta and pouring it into the tomato sauce. Some of the juice splattered Stephen's crisp white shirt. He glared at her. She smiled sweetly at him. From the look on his face, she imagined he'd never gotten food stains on his shirt. His stomach was hard and flat, with no presence of a beer belly.

Not like there is on Paul.

Stop comparing your boss to your boyfriend. There is no way he would ever go with you.

She kept up the inner scolding until she no longer pictured Stephen naked. No man had ever made her want him, until her boss.

At least Stephen has a job.

Stop it, Ursula.

One of her biggest shocks had been when Paul walked in and told her she needed to get a job to pull her weight in paying the bills. He'd lost his job for a reason he still hadn't told her.

"You know that will be coming out of your salary," he said.

She burst out laughing. He made so many threats that he never saw through. "Next time you should wear an ap.r.o.n. One of those ap.r.o.ns with the naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s on the outside. That would be something I'd pay to see." She chuckled at the image in her mind.

"Come here, you." He grabbed her from behind and began to tickle her. Overcome by fits of laughter, she tried to fight him off. They ended up on the floor with him on top of her. "Say asubmit'," he said.

"No."

He tickled her tummy. She pulled on his hands. In the next moment her hands were locked under his grip above her head. He was so close. His breath was on her face. He smelt like whiskey and something deeply masculine that she couldn't put a name to. Their laughter died down as they stared at each other. Ursula was aware of her legs wrapped around his waist. Her p.u.s.s.y pressed against the front of his suit pants. She felt the length of him pushing against her.

Embarra.s.sed at her reaction she began to wiggle in his hold.

"Don't move," he said. She stopped, staring into his dark brown eyes. He held her captive in his gaze. The tension between them mounted with every pa.s.sing second. They kept their gazes on each other for ages. She didn't know how much time had pa.s.sed until the scent of burning overcame her.

"The food is burning," she said.

He let go of her hands giving her enough room to slide out.

"It's not the only thing that's burning." She was sure she heard him mutter those words. Instead of asking him to repeat what he said, she left him alone, pulling the pan off the heat.

"I don't think I can salvage this." She tasted some of the sauce and winced at the acrid, burnt taste. "There is no way I can salvage this."

Stephen stood, leaning 'round her to taste himself. He winced and spat it back out. "I'll make us a sandwich if you get rid of that."

Nodding her head, she got rid of the pan, putting lots of warm water in the saucepan to help clean it later.

They ate their food in silence. He stood by her side while she finished doing the dishes. She felt him close behind her. The desire to turn round, wrap her hands around his neck, and kiss him was intense. She didn't feel this need with Paul. His touch repulsed her, whereas with Stephen she wanted more. Stephen was older than she by a good twenty years. He would never want someone like her. She was uncultured and worked for him.

Stop thinking about him.

"I'm going to go. I'll see you tomorrow." He nodded and saw her out. Sometimes he drove her home. She knew it would be inappropriate to ask him. The scent of whiskey on his breath made her aware of his inability to drive. She walked home. The darkness never scared her. She wrapped her coat around her trying to keep the chill out.

Ursula took her time to walk about to her small apartment. Paul had become violent in the last few weeks and verbally abusive. Nothing she did was ever good enough for him. She'd rather not go home than wonder what he'd been up to. Most days he spent his time in front of the television with bottles of beer getting drunk.

Too soon she was standing outside her building and then her own door. The sound of the television could be heard outside. Taking a deep breath, she put her key in the lock and let herself in.

"Is that you?" he shouted at her. The slurring in his voice let her know he was drunk.

"I'm home." She walked into the front room. When she saw what he had on she blushed. A woman was being f.u.c.ked by three men. His p.o.r.n collection could rival a b.l.o.o.d.y s.e.x shop. She hated watching the stuff. There was no emotion or connection between the people on the screen. The s.e.x was being acted out.

She took his empty bottles in order to put them in the trash.

"Get your fat a.s.s out of the way." He pushed her aside making her stumble. She caught herself in time, shooting him a glare.

"If you got rid of them yourself I wouldn't have to," she said.

"What the f.u.c.k did you just say?" She turned around in time to see him slam her against the counter. A cry left her lips. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed the bones.

"Let me go," she said. The way he was gripping her wrist felt like he was going to break the bone. Biting her lip, she waited for him to let her go. He liked doing this, a.s.serting his authority and letting her know who held all the power.

"You f.u.c.king fat b.i.t.c.h. You should be grateful I took you on. No man would look at your ugly face twice." She knew he was drunk, but his words hurt so much. There was a time he'd whisper sweet words in her ear, and then he'd make love to her. She couldn't remember the last time he'd been nice to her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she waited for him to let her go.

He slammed her wrist on top of the counter, laughing at her, then walked away. She pulled her the tie out of her hair then went to shower.

Under the warm spray she let the tears fall and the sobs release. When she was with Stephen, all of her home problems left her. She knew she had to leave Paul even though at times he could be so sweet. The sweetness was gone and being quickly replaced by nastiness. The water ran cold making her get out. She walked into the bedroom to find it empty. Sending a little prayer skywards, she dressed in some pajamas then got under the covers. An hour later Paul joined her, palming her breast and kissing her neck.

"I have a headache. You'll have to use your hand," she said, pushing him away. He'd never forced her to sleep with him. Paul muttered, leaving the bed. Seconds later she heard another p.o.r.no and his unmistakable grunting.

Closing her eyes, more tears fell. She didn't know how to get rid of him. Ursula fell asleep thinking about her boss and wondering what his touch against her body would be like. Her obsession with him would lose her her job.

"Get yourself together, Ursula."

Chapter Two.

The following day Stephen was working out in his gym when James gave him a call. For the whole of the night he hadn't been able to get Ursula out of his mind. Her lush body pressed against his was seared in his mind. She filled his hands completely. Never before had a woman given him enough time to let go like she did. He took the call feeling the growl in his voice and his body at being disrupted. She wouldn't be around till four, and he wanted to be home to greet her.

"What?" he asked.

"Am I interrupting some playtime? I didn't know you had a sub at the moment." The teasing from the other man p.i.s.sed him off. He didn't have the head to deal with a.s.sholes, especially when he craved to a f.u.c.k a woman he couldn't have.

Why can't you? You're her boss. Force her to.

He shook away the thought. Stephen had never forced a woman. He wasn't used to the fact that she wasn't falling at his feet for more. Being a wealthy man had made him impatient and expectant.

"Don't start. What do you want?" he asked, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel.

"I talked to Lucas last night and thought I'd tell you not to bother asking. I'm not accepting every f.u.c.ker into my club who think they're a Dom. We both know it takes a lot to be an expert, and not every man or woman has it," James said.

"I made it as a suggestion. I've got pet.i.tions up my a.s.s for a f.u.c.king playroom in my club. Give me a break for trying." He threw the towel away then walked out of his gym. Most days he worked from home. The Knox holdings didn't need his constant attention. He had a board of directors whom he met with in order to keep on top of everything. There were only a few people he'd gotten rid of since taking over from his father.