NEW RELEASE ALERT!!
CLAIMED Book
Blurb:
A novel of erotic
discovery and forbidden desire that goes beyond Fifty Shades of Grey.
Presley Flynn is ripe to
experience her secret fantasies… and Dmitri Pratt wants nothing more than to
fulfill them. Once inside the elite Club Sin in Las Vegas, Presley is nervous
but excited—and determined to surrender to her every desire. Dmitri is her
Master, and his touch is like fire. With each careful, calculated caress, he
unleashes her wildest inhibitions, giving her unimagined pleasure.
Presley is different
than the other submissives Dmitri has mastered. The BDSM lifestyle is new to
her, and so are the games they play at Club Sin. From the Start, Presley stirs
emotions in Dmitri far beyond the raw purity between a Dom and the perfect sub.
For the ecstasy they share goes beyond the dungeon, igniting a passion that
claims the very depths of the heart.
CLAIMED is an erotic romance intended for mature
audiences.
Find CLAIMED on Goodreads
ABOUT STACEY KENNEDY
Stacey Kennedy is an urban fantasy lover at heart, but she also
enjoys losing herself in dark and sensual worlds. She loves in southwestern
Ontario with her husband, who gave her a happily-ever-after. Together, they
have two small children who can always make her smile, and who will never be
allowed to read Mommy's books. If she's not plugging away at a new story,
you'll find her camping, curling up with the latest flick, or obsessing over Sons
of Anarchy, Supernatural, True Blood and
Lost Girl.
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EXCERPT:
“Master
Dmitri doesn’t expect sex.” Cora grunted. “You’ll keep your clothes on.”
Presley
Flynn scanned the foyer of the snazzy mansion and looked for something to hold
on to as her roommate, Cora Adams, hustled her down the corridor. With a little
shove, Cora added, “You wanted this, remember?”
“Clearly,
I’ve lost my damn mind.” Presley pushed back against Cora’s hands, trying to
hold her ground.
The
mansion was pleasant, with thick dark wood on the trim of the doorways and
gentle burgundy-painted walls, but it did nothing to settle her nerves. Beneath
her feet, located in the basement, was the elite BDSM dungeon, Club Sin. “Maybe
I need to go to a therapist. Or skip that part and go straight to the
nuthouse.”
Cora
stepped in front of Presley, and her big blue eyes, lined with dark makeup,
sparkled. Her long chocolate-colored hair fell over her black blouse, and her
red lipstick covered pursed lips. “You told me you wanted to join the dungeon.”
Presley
snorted. “You said I was a long-lost submissive who needed the lifestyle.
Which, apparently, is so far from the truth, since why am I on the verge of
puking all over this fancy hardwood floor?”
Cora
smirked. “Please don’t puke on Master Dmitri’s floor.”
“Okay,
great,” Presley muttered in total agreement. “See, it’s best I leave.”
She
turned to get the hell out of the place when Cora grabbed her arm, pulling
Presley back in front of her. “One chance, Presley, that’s all you get. If you
leave now, you won’t be allowed to come back.”
Cora
walked forward, and Presley found herself matching her stride. They passed a
grand wooden staircase on the left, leading to the upstairs. A huge
wrought-iron balcony curved around the entire upper floor, which led to
numerous doors used for God knew what.
They
strode by an oval-shaped dining room, and Cora added, “There’s a reason why you
read so many BDSM erotic novels. There’s a reason why it turns you on. And
there’s a reason why you made the decision to come with me tonight.”
Stopping
near the doorway to the office that Presley had been avoiding for the last five
minutes, she inhaled. “You’re right. I did come here for a reason.” To
surrender to her every desire. “I don’t want to walk out the front door, but—”
She pointed toward the office. “I’m scared shitless to walk through that door.”
“Of
course you are.” Cora grinned. “Your darkest, most secret fantasies await you
in that office.” Without another word, she spun on her heel and headed down the
hallway in the opposite direction.
“Do you
plan on coming in?”
Presley
started at the powerful low voice that seemed to draw her forward, giving the
fearful butterflies in her stomach a flutter of excitement. Her feet moved
without thought as she entered the office, which looked much like a library.
Books
filled the shelves at the far end of the room, along with a grand wooden desk.
A computer and telephone and other office accessories sat on top of it. A sleek
black leather couch was situated straight ahead, under the bay window.
“Ah, she
finally decides to enter.”
Presley
froze, as time halted. The man never raised his head to look at her, but he
didn’t need to. His presence filled the room, making her entirely aware of him.
He sat at the desk, his head bowed toward the paper he’d been reading. With the
slight curve to his mouth, he stole the air from her lungs. He was hot.
As the
owner of Club Sin and the
president of Las Vegas’s top casino, Dmitri Pratt matched the mansion
with his wealthy exuberance. Hard angles defined his jawline and cheekbones.
His lips were lush and sculpted and his nose straight-edged. The sleeves of his
black dress shirt were rolled up on his muscular forearms, displaying a tribal
dragon tattoo on his left arm.
When she
didn’t move, Dmitri stated, with his eyes still focused on the paper, “Take a
seat on the couch.”
Exhaling
slowly, she shed the tension in her chest as she made her way to the leather
sofa and sat down. The coolness of the upholstery against her heated skin came
as much needed relief. She crossed her legs, doing her best to portray
confidence.
In front
of this powerful and experienced man, she didn’t want to show her apprehension.
In fact, she’d never been this uncomfortable around men, but
Dmitri wasn’t simply a man. He sexually dominated women, and as a Dom, he did
the kinky things Presley had only dreamed of fulfilling.
He signed
the paper, then he lifted his head. Presley forgot the world around her,
absorbed in him. His piercing blue eyes gazed over her from head to toe before
his focus returned to her face. The depth of those eyes pulled her in with the
intensity of how he watched her. No, how he studied her.
He didn’t give her a quick look but a long examination.
Under his
stare, her body went mushy and hot. Flames flickered through her
veins as he stood from his chair and approached. Her fingernails bit into her
palms as her heart rate increased. His muscular frame didn’t fit his fluid
gait. Each step he took exuded authority, like a lion on a hunt, but appeared
graceful, with controlled power.
She
scanned the thickness of his shoulders beneath his black dress shirt, and she
noticed how the fabric clung to him, detailing the valleys of his muscles.
Glancing lower, she found the rest of him to be more of the same—powerful and
masculine. His black slacks, held tight by a leather belt hung low on his hips,
hugged his thick thighs.
Stopping
in front of her, he stared at her with impressively intense eyes, and a strand
of his stylish blond hair hung across his forehead. “So, you’re Cora’s friend?
Presley, right?”
The
commanding nature of his voice made her breathing erratic. This man had the
capability of making her feel giddy as a schoolgirl, as if he were her secret
crush who’d noticed her at last. “Yes, that’s me.”
Dmitri’s
mouth twitched, and he tucked a finger under her jaw, tilting up her chin.
“Welcome to my home, Presley.”
She
shivered at the stern yet gentle hold. “Thank you.”
He slid a
finger along her jawline, cocking his head, and his study of her touched the
center of her soul, awakening her body in a foreign way. As if, for the first
time in her life, a man looked at her and truly saw her. His examination made
her bare, totally exposed to him, and unusually vulnerable.
Locked in
a stare she couldn’t break free from, she wiggled in her seat, unable to stop
herself, then she froze. After another shift, she couldn’t ignore the damp silk
between her thighs. How was that even possible—nervous one minute to undeniably
turned on the next?
Dmitri’s
eyebrow arched, and that sexy smile returned. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you,
doll?”
He
removed his hold and she quivered, and her body hummed with desire. The memory
of his touch remained. The path his finger had taken was scorched into her
skin, and the heat within only intensified as she drew in his masculine scent,
edged with sandalwood.
Watching
the twinkle in his eyes increase, she cursed herself for being entirely too
obvious. Or maybe she should curse him for being so talented at reading people.
To calm down, she glanced around the office, looking for something to take her
mind off of her response to him.
It was
hopeless.
The home
seemed like a fairy tale all in itself. Along the dark taupe wall across from
her were four huge canvases forming a solid picture of a lone tree and a moon,
reminding her that she was out of her element. “That painting is beautiful.” Enormous and
expensive. “Did you pick it out?”
Dmitri
followed her gaze for only a moment. “Do I look like the type of man who’d know
about art?”
She
licked her dry lips, staring at his sculpted mouth that held the mysterious
smile, and she admitted, “Kind of.”
“No,
doll, I couldn’t care less about it.” He winked. “That’s what interior
decorators are for.”
Dmitri
deftly turned and strode toward the watercooler in the corner of the office.
Presley frowned at his back. Perhaps she had misread him and he wasn’t as fancy
as she’d thought, since he seemed amused by her response.
After
filling a tall glass with water, he returned to her and offered her the glass.
“Here, drink this, love.”
“Thanks.”
She accepted the glass, and settled the cool glass on her lap, not sure she’d
get the water down her dry throat.
Dmitri
leaned in and gazed into her eyes dead-on. “I didn’t give you the glass to
hold. I gave you the water because you need it. Drink up, Presley.”
The stern
set of his jaw indicated he wouldn’t relent, so with a shrug, she sipped the
water. The cool liquid rushed through her mouth and down her throat, easing the
tightness as she swallowed. Maybe she needed that more than she’d thought. He
gave a firm nod. “Better.”
As he sat
next to her on the couch, his thick thigh brushed against hers, and a spark
blasted through her, causing her cheeks to warm. The side of his mouth once
again curved as he stared at her blush before those intense eyes zeroed in on
hers. “Now, then, tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Well—”
She focused on their conversation and away from how incredible his body felt
against hers. “My parents are still together and have a good marriage. I grew
up in Apple Valley my entire life, but I moved to Vegas about four months ago
to live with my ex.” She took another sip of the water and realized she’d
almost opened a door she didn’t want to go through. Gathering her thoughts, she
looked at her hands, clenched around the glass, and continued. “That’s a story
not worth repeating.” No way in hell would she tell him about her ex-boyfriend,
Steven Moser, on whom she wasted eight years of her life. “Let’s see . . . I’m
twenty-five and have no kids.”
Dmitri
raised his ankle over his knee, drawing her focus to him, and she noticed his
body shaking in silent laughter. Maybe, with Steven on her mind, her defenses
were already on high alert. Or perhaps Dmitri made her feel way too
inexperienced and even too nervous in this erotic adventure she’d entered, but
her glare came fierce and instant.
He
frowned. “Would you like to try that again?”
“I have
nothing else to say.” She shifted against the couch, realizing now that she
deserved his mirth. In this place, she might as well have a halo over her head.
“That’s all there is to know about me.”
“No,
Presley.” His eyes were dark, firm, and cold. “In my house, my guests don’t
glare at me.”
Had he
honestly noticed her glare? Most times when she glared at Steven, he didn’t see
it or didn’t care enough to ask what had upset her. “I—”
Dmitri’s
eyes narrowed. “If I’ve upset you, tell me, so I can address it. Don’t give me
nasty looks that I don’t deserve, considering I’ve hardly said a word.”
The
authority in his voice made her insides quiver. It was the meaning in his
statement that spoke to something deep inside her—I see you.
Even if what she’d done bothered him, he didn’t overlook any of her actions.
For the first time in a long time—possibly ever—she wasn’t a shadow, a person
everyone passed and never truly looked at, and that made her speechless.
However,
at his firm look urging her to continue, she took his advice and asked, “What
did you find so funny?”
He
dropped his ankle from his knee and turned to face her. “Your little rundown
there.” His stern expression melted away to a charming smile, drawing her full
attention to his kissable mouth. “I didn’t mean for you to tell me everything
about yourself, as if I were hiring you.”
Just kill me now!
His eyes
softened, as did his voice. “I meant for you to tell me why you want to join
the dungeon, considering you look incredibly nervous.”
She
almost rolled her eyes but stopped herself. “Right, I guess that’s what you’d
want to know.” Shoving her embarrassment away to fret over later, she put on a brave
face and lifted her chin. “Well, I read a lot of erotic romance books and . . .
um . . . Cora has told me about the lifestyle, and you see, it . . . ”
With a
gentle hold, he gripped her chin, tilting her head downward. “Arouses you?”
He
dropped his hand and she nodded, and the water in the glass rippled in waves
from the tremble of her hands. Gripping it tightly, she bit her lip, which
didn’t ease the flickers of mortified tremors.
“What
about BDSM arouses you?”
His
intense study reached into her soul. She squirmed against the leather couch,
and her skin flushed wicked hot. “Err . . . the sex stuff.”
One sleek
eyebrow lifted. “The sex stuff?”
She
followed the line of his brow along the masculine contours of his face. While
his eyebrow arch looked simple enough, it portrayed a statement of curiosity,
and he was beautiful. “You know, being tied up, dominated
. . . and um . . . other stuff.”
Dmitri
considered her in a way that made her feel as if he noticed every flaw on her
face. “I’m going to be blunt with you, Presley.” Before she could inquire what
he meant by blunt,
he added, “I’d appreciate if you stay quiet while I talk. After I’m done, we
can discuss what I’ve told you.” He waited for her nod, then he continued. “A
Club Sin submissive can be restrained with ropes, cuffs, chains, or anything
that can be used to bind a person.” His grin became devilish. “Doms enjoy being
creative.”
Sweet Jesus!
“In a
scene, you might be flogged, paddled, whipped, spanked, or caned. You could
find yourself tied to a Saint Andrew’s cross, tossed over a spanking bench, or
attached to any other device located in the dungeon.”
Damn her
body for flushing at those choices, and damn his wicked expression declaring
enjoyment. She took a big gulp of the water, which this time didn’t help the
dryness in her throat.
His eyes
twinkled. “If it’s within your limits, you might have intercourse in the
dungeon or be asked to give oral sex; if your Dom is especially pleased, you
could find yourself climaxing in front of a crowd.”
Her mouth
dropped open, but he seemed not to realize or care. He added, “This isn’t a sex
club meant to have vanilla sex. At Club Sin, you are the submissive and are
treated as such.” Drawing in a deep breath, he allowed her a minute to process
before he said, “There are no slaves at Club Sin. We have submissives who,
outside of the dungeon, are equal in every regard. In the dungeon, you are the
bottom in the relationship and will need to accept that. You don’t make
decisions. You don’t ask questions. You do what your Dom tells you to do.”
A shiver
slid down her spine. Not at what he said, exactly, but how he said it. The
heated look in his eye and the stern tone portrayed a confidence that her lower
half appreciated. Which had been part of the battle, excitement at the thought
of a man controlling her, yet she’d been raised to have a voice and thoughts.
Meshing the two desires and wants was confusing at best.
His head
tilted. “Submissives at Club Sin are expected to be submissive only while in a
scene. Meaning you’re not expected to be in high protocol at all times in the
dungeon, as in kneeling at your Dom’s feet and avoiding eye contact. These are
the rules I’ve put in place at Club Sin, because they’re what I prefer. To be
a member, everyone must follow that rule.”
He once
again let her process it all before he said, “Of course, you are to respect all
Doms with proper address; mind your manners; and be respectful to other
submissives. But we are not a club that expects high protocol, unless that’s
something your Dom requires of you for a punishment.” That ridiculously sexy
eyebrow arched again. “Do you understand?”
Presley
nodded and wiggled in her seat, trying to ignore the heat swirling between her
thighs. All of what he said were things she’d read about, fantasized over, and
the idea that she’d play the submissive role made her burn.
“Some
submissives like things others don’t, and that’s why you outline
your limits when you sign the dungeon’s agreement. That part of play at Club
Sin is nonnegotiable. Your limits will never be broken. If you want to change a
limit, you’ll have a sit-down with me to discuss it. I may agree without
hesitation, or I might request that I watch you in scene first if the limit
change is drastic.” He casually picked a piece of lint off his pants. “What you
do in your private life is your business. Here, in the dungeon, what you do is
my business, since I’m the owner of Club Sin. All clear?”
She
nodded, managing to close her parted lips, but she was unable to look away from
his eyes. There, in their depths, she found something so intoxicating, so
centered. Dmitri appeared to be the most put-together man she’d ever met in her
life, so sure of himself and his choices, and that was even sexier than his
muscular frame and gorgeous face.
He
flicked the piece of lint onto the floor. “If you don’t follow what has been
asked of you, you will be punished. If you refuse your punishment, you will be
escorted from the dungeon and not allowed to return.”
Her
breath became trapped in her throat, and as if he read her concern, he added,
“A punishment can be a spanking with a hand or a paddle, a night spent wearing
a gag, or whatever the Dom thinks is appropriate for your disobedience. But no
punishment would ever exceed your limits. One thing you can count on is your
punishment will be fair.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling gently.
“Now tell me how you feel about what I’ve told you.”
“It’s . .
. well . . . I . . .” She swallowed, shifting through all the confusion
coursing through her veins. Her body burned so hot that she wanted out of her
skin. Her mind warned her how insane it was to agree to something that could,
in fact, lead to a punishment.
After a
moment, she realized the winner of the internal battle was glaringly obvious,
because it was why she’d come here tonight. “God forgive me, I liked it.”
Dmitri
gave her a long look before he threw his head back with laughter. Her
embarrassment quickly turned to anger, and she stood so fast that the water
spilled on the floor. “Stop laughing at me! This isn’t funny.”
He slowly
looked at her. His eyes had darkened. He rose to his feet with a powerful
grace, taking the glass from her hands, and slamming it on the end table with a
clunk. “To
your knees.”
In a
swift move, she dropped to her knees, cringing when she connected with the
hardwood floor. The second the pain eased, she realized what he’d asked and
what she’d done.
Had she
honestly responded to Dmitri without a single thought? Was she seriously
kneeling for the man at his feet? And why had he told her to kneel? Because she
snapped at him, or maybe she’d glared again? Her mind raced to understand what
had happened in the last couple of seconds, but failed miserably.
Dmitri’s
shiny black shoes rested in front of her, and his rich masculine scent wrapped
around her. He didn’t move, nor did he say a word.
She did
the only thing she thought would be appropriate in this extremely awkward
moment. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”
This cover is smokin hot! I wonder who else agrees?
ReplyDeleteI definitely do! =)
ReplyDelete