Salvation (Three's Allowed, Book 3)

By Laura Harner

Marcus and Max own Maximilian's, the hottest and most exclusive club in town. The only invitation harder to come by is to their ultra private BDSM club, After Hours. Max is the face of the club, Marcus, the silent partner. But when Max decides to offer a class on the Art of Domination, there's only one Master fit for the job: Marcus. And for the first time in all the years they've known each other, Max is ready to play Marcus' way, with no holds barred.

Jolynn is at a crossroad in life. She has a terrific new job, but her lover left her, and she can't help feeling she needs something more in her personal life. When she finds an invitation to After Hours, she jumps at the chance, wondering if she has what it takes to play the Dom/sub game. By the time Jolynn realizes she knows the mysterious Master, it's already too late, she's under his spell. But would a true Master leave her bloody and beaten unconscious? Marcus believes someone deliberately lured Jolynn to the club to try to kill her, but will she trust him and Max enough to let them help her? Or will the killer find her first?

Warning: Each book in the Three’s Allowed series is an erotic romance between one sexy woman and two smoking hot men. The series contains graphic material that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, including M/M/F, M/F, and M/M sexual encounters, and mild BDSM. Suspense included—no extra charge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Harner
• Release date: Oct 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781937252038

Laura Harner

Laura lives on waterfront property in Arizona because she's always wanted to be an oxymoron. She once enjoyed hobbies such as gardening and travel—now the characters in her head compel her to tell their stories, so she writes. (It doesn't actually help quiet the voices—but it keeps the folks in the white jackets at bay.)She shares her home with an ever-revolving cast of characters—some of whom are actually real—and is living her dream of building her own version of the Willow Springs Ranch.With over fifty published novels and novellas, Laura is an international bestselling author of erotic romances, romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and Highland romances. Her books can be found at all major online retailers.Connect with her online at:http://lauraharner.com

Book preview

Salvation

Three’s Allowed: 3

Laura Harner

Salvation: Three’s Allowed Book 3 is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Laura Harner

Cover photography by Dan Skinner

Cover Art by Laura Harner

Edited by Jae Ashley

All rights reserved.

Smashwords edition published in the United States by Hot Corner Press

ISBN: 978-1-937252-03-8. Second Edition

Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Contact the publisher for further information: [e-mail]

Contents

Dedication

Trademarks

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

About the Author

Also Available

Dedication

To all those who dare to follow love, wherever it leads.

I also want to give a special thank you to Dan Skinner, photographer extraordinaire and good friend for the beautiful cover image.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Beretta: Fabrica D'armi P. Baretta, SPA

Dean Martin: Trustees of the Dean Martin Family Trust

Frank Sinatra: Frank Sinatra Enterprises, LLC

Macallan: Macallan Distillers Limited

Navy SEALs: The Department of the Navy

Rat Pack: Frank Sinatra Enterprises, LLC

Suburban: General Motors Corporation

The Lone Ranger: Classic Media, LLC

Chapter One

Marcus walked through Maximilian’s as if he belonged, which of course, as part owner, he did. The driving music beat a pulse against him as he strode past the happy smiles of the rich and privileged, writhing and gyrating on the dance floor under the flashing lights. He didn’t stop, merely nodded his head at the few bartenders, servers, and bouncers who recognized him. He and Max might own equal shares of the business, but Marcus preferred to be the silent partner.

Maximilian’s was as exclusive as a club in Phoenix could get. Sports stars, celebrities, and the just-plain-wealthy paid top dollar for the best in music, liquor, and the security of knowing they would be protected from the paparazzi and celebrity hounds. When he reached the back of the main clubroom, he pulled aside the discreet curtain, revealing another, more private doorway. He exchanged brief words with the bouncer on duty and then stepped past him into the heart of the club.

Busy night, Frank? he asked the armed security guard seated at the desk that restricted access to the rest of the building.

Sure is. We’ve got a full house in the basement, Frank said. Max sure knows how to draw them in.

Marcus took a quick glance at the bank of security cameras. How’s the new equipment working? Any problems?

Naw. The new digital cameras in the parking areas work a treat. I wish you’d let me put one here at the desk, though, boss. I know we’ve got good shots of the doorways downstairs, but with the masks and hoods most of the After Hours customers wear… he trailed off.

Sorry, Frank. The cameras outside are enough to let us monitor who enters and exits the building. Your staff provides topnotch security, which is why Max’s has a solid reputation. Our downstairs clients are a completely different matter. They expect total secrecy. It would spell disaster for the club if we had a security breach at After Hours. We only use those cameras to monitor the hallways, and strictly for client safety. They’d long debated when they upgraded the security. How did you protect the privacy of some of the richest, most influential people in the city and keep them safe?

Anyone special here tonight I should know about? Marcus asked, bringing the additional camera question to an end.

No one new, mostly the regulars. The VIP Hollywood friend of Max’s is here again. I think he wants a membership, Frank said.

Terrific. Keep up the great work. Get any good tips tonight? Marcus asked, moving past the desk.

Frank grinned. That trip to Hawaii gets closer every day, boss.

Marcus returned the smile as he stepped into the private elevator that whisked him below the glittery nightclub and into the very depths of what some people might consider hell.

*****

Jolynn Enwright looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed her hands along the curve of her hips, over her ass, and wondered exactly what she thought she was doing. She picked up the black invitation and ran her finger lightly over the embossed lettering.

You are cordially invited to attend a special event at Maximilian’s After Hours.

That was all. No further information. It prevented any inadvertent entries into the most private club in town. Every weekend, Maximilian’s held an event that very few people knew about. Those who did weren’t talking. Membership in the exclusive BDSM club at Max’s required an exhaustive and somewhat intrusive background check. You had to be an experienced dominant or submissive, and you had to have a personal referral.

Unfortunately, those rules meant the invitation probably wasn’t intended for Jolynn. She didn’t know anyone in the BDSM scene, and she sure couldn’t offer a reference, but she wasn’t about to let a little thing like a mistaken delivery keep her from getting a peek at the hottest club in Phoenix.

Jolynn was due for some mindless entertainment of the sexual variety. Six months earlier, Carrie had left her to move back to the Midwest, claiming stress over their dual career relationship. At the time, they both had held high-ranking positions at Enwright Security. Enwright as in Jolynn’s brother, Michael. He’d built his company from the ground up and she served as the vice president of electronic surveillance.

The job hadn’t sent Carrie packing; it was the different direction they each wanted to take their relationship. Looking back on things, Jo realized they’d both been trying to introduce an element of excitement to what clearly was a relationship already on the rocks.

Jolynn took one last look in the mirror. A short black skirt that barely covered the tops of her thigh-high silk stockings, a white camisole and lace bra that let the dark peaks of her nipples show through if the light was right, and fuck-me heels. She expertly applied her make-up and gave her long black hair a bed-head tousled style. She’d worked enough undercover assignments for Michael to be able to transform herself to fit any situation. Tucking her identification, cash, and condoms, along with the glossy postcard, into a tiny envelope of a purse, she was as ready as she’d ever be. Hopefully, there wasn’t a secret word required in addition to the invitation. She was willing to take the chance.

*****

Marcus stepped into their shared office, affectionately known as the Alpha room.

Hey, baby, Max said in his gravelly voice that grabbed Marcus by the balls. He shook his head and smiled at the meaningless endearment. Too bad Max was straight, Marcus thought for maybe the thousandth time since they’d been friends. Which was a very long time.

The M & M’s they’d been called when they were boys. Nearly inseparable until high school graduation when Marcus joined the Navy to become a SEAL and Max had gone to college to learn business management. Six years later, the two friends pooled their money to start Maximilian’s. Two years of hard work and rocking reviews for the nightclub earned them enough money to buy the whole building where the club was located. They reinvested their profits every step of the way, until they could afford to renovate the basement into what they’d affectionately referred to between themselves as the dungeon, but eventually marketed as Max’s After Hours.

Neither of them had imagined that the bondage magazines they fantasized and masturbated over as teens would inspire such a profitable business.

Max, Marcus said, shaking his head at the memories. Tell me again why I’m here?

The running of the club was Max’s gig, and he drew a salary for those duties, in addition to his owner’s share of the profits. Marcus spent very little time here during operating hours. He worked under a special contract for Enwright Security.

Remember I told you a couple of months ago about the class we’re offering?

Right, something about BDSM for dummies, Marcus joked.

"Very funny. I realized even though everyone who comes here has already experienced being a Dom or sub, too many players don’t understand the pleasure of complete control and surrender. They think it’s all about restraints and spankings. No one takes the time to explain, to teach his or her partners about the intimacy.

I thought if I offered a class to a small group, they might help mentor others. We’ve met a couple of times, but I need a Master to run a scene, with or without bondage, your choice. A skilled Dom, Marcus. No one is better than you.

Fuck, Max. I rarely play anymore. I didn’t think you did either. And I hate the idea of standing in front of a group. Especially if they think Dom/sub means pleasuring the Master at the expense of the submissive.

Marcus raked his hand through his hair, blew out a breath, then met Max’s pleading gaze. He hated the puppy dog look.

Look, Max, here’s the condensed version. A Dom/sub scene is about stripping away the sub’s defenses, about the total surrender of control. The Dominant feels flush with power, yet true satisfaction comes from taking the sub to the very limit of his control, past even where he thinks he can go, and then watching him come apart with the pleasure.

For a long minute, Max’s rapid breathing was the only sound in the room. He wet his lips and blew out a shaky sigh before speaking. Fuck, Marcus. Okay, can you repeat what you said to the class? That’s exactly what I want them to understand.

Marcus looked at Max a long time. His friend’s face colored with desire. His teeth caught his lower lip, then he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flared, as if he was scenting something powerful. Then in an age-old gesture, Max lowered his eyes, leaving his inner submissive streak glowing a mile wide. His words had reached past Max’s consistently hetero preference and had yanked him up by the short hairs. Fuck.

A bit breathless himself, Marcus asked, I don’t have a sub anymore, Max. Who did you have in mind?

I can do it. You know, just this once, Max said, wetting his lips again.

You mean show the beginning of a scene? Otherwise we’d need a different sub if you want me to demonstrate further.

Not this time, Marcus. Just us, this time. Max looked up, his eyes gray swirls of desire, his lips parted, and the front of his jeans bulged. Taking half a step closer, Max lowered his gaze once again. Please, Marcus, I want to.

Shit. Max had already assumed the role of the submissive.

If he