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.
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.
PURCHASE YOUR COPY OF CLAIMED:
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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEWAY (to embed)!
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.”
