From the pen and mind of USA Today Bestselling Author Daizie Draper comes Sorority Saint: Domination & Dance Collide, a sizzling collision of dance and domination in one sizzling-hot romance.
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When Jason, a brash and cocky jazz musician and house Dom, comes to the aid of a shy, conservative dancer who is mugged outside the BDSM club where he works, he offers to scratch her curious itch and teach her about BDSM in exchange for her dancing in his music video. The heat their opposite proclivities stir up is too scorching hot for them to ignore, but indulging in passion just might destroy them both.
Author: Daizie Draper
Publisher: Pink Cocktail Publishing
Length: 308 pages
Type: Stand-alone BDSM romance, no cliffhanger
NOTE FROM THE DOM, JASON DELANEY: I know I’m sexy. It’s why they come to me, hunt me down, beg so sweetly. Be my pirate. Be my daddy. Be my prince. For some reason, she doesn’t beg, even though she kinda sorta wants to—Shayna, that self-righteous, prissy little saint with ballerina grace. After I tend to the sorority girl when she’s mugged at the BDSM club where I’m a House Dom, she agrees to dance in my jazz-rock video in exchange for me teaching her the ins and outs of Dominance and submission that she’s oh-so curious about. Oh, I’ll teach her all right. But I wanna tick her off first. Her fury’s just as sexy as her splits. She fights me, goes toe-to-toe, gets hot, but she lets the angel on her shoulder govern her every move and keep her from knowing erotic bliss. I just know a naughty devil’s in there. And I’m gonna free hers, then tie it up and spank it and drive it wild with savage lust so it has the drive to duke it out with the haloed thrill-robber who’s held the victor’s belt for way too long. My money’s on the bad girl.
Will I go to Hell for corrupting a saint? Don’t know. But after she dove into her panties and showed me those glossy fingers upon command when she should’ve slapped me instead, I’d gladly take on any inferno to find out just how naughty and subalicious she truly is. And I will, provided we don’t kill each other first with our verbal daggers or gropey hands.
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A heated moment between Shayna and Jason
“Um,” I licked my lip, “I was just wondering, if you’re honestly happy doing what you do. Keeping a distance? Not getting laid even?”
“Uh, thoroughly thrilled? No. Happy? Usually. Content and satiated? Definitely. Good enough answer, Sunshine?”
“I guess. Did it hurt, that your BDSM relationships didn’t work out?”
“Of course it hurt. And it’s not just losing the BDSM aspect, but the actual person, the closeness you’ve built, those shooting-the-shit and silly moments you share with someone who knows you better than you even know yourself. Especially in this lifestyle, I find, it’s extremely hard to reset in a new kinkified romance, set my sights on someone else, and aim to discover someone’s exact spank threshold or favorite flower. Not worth the hassle.” He returned to his food, seeming eager to flee from the black hole that tried to suck him in about a minute ago. I watched him as he expertly ate fried rice with chopsticks. Damn, that mouth.
“How do you do that?”
He pulled his attention off the game again to look at me. “Do what now?”
“Come here.” He wiggled his finger, urging me closer. “Gimme your hand. I’ll show you.”
I scootched over.
He put his set down and took my hand in his. A charge of electricity raced through me when he grazed my palm with his thumb. He held up my chopsticks, separated but parallel to one another, then moved my fingers with delicacy and softly said, “One finger goes under, one in between as a fulcrum, and the index finger curls slightly at the top like this. Now bring your thumb up to meet them.” Finding his gentleness so utterly sensual, I got buzzy and held my breath as he set me up.
He let go.
I frowned. “That?” I wanted his touch back. Even just that little bit was heaven.
“Yep. Now, raise just the top stick slightly, like an alligator mouth.” He squawked and I laughed.
“Okay.” I tried, but I couldn’t get much lift. “I can’t. My fingers don’t move like that.”
“Anyone can do it, Shayna.”
“I’m trying. I don’t have the most nimble fingers. I can’t do the Vulcan sign either.” I wasn’t trying to manipulate him into touching me again. I was literally too feeble and inept to do it correctly.
He put his hands back over mine and I cheered inside. “No, like this.” His warm, manly hands tried to get me to move right. “You can fucking do splits but not wiggle your damn fingers? You drive me nuts. You just need to get a little lift. It’s not an airplane here.”
I laughed. “I’m trying, Jason. Okay. Okay. Think I got it. How’s this?” My little wiggle was still pathetic and I cringed.
“Uuuuh, total crap. But we’re not tryin’a impress Chinese investors, so, guess it’s good enough. Try picking up some food now.”
I crimped a snow pea, but it cartwheeled out of the unattached tongs and sailed into his nose. I cracked up and slapped my lips. “Ohmygod. So sorry.”
“Like hell you are.” He lifted a chicken finger, dunked it in duck sauce, bit down on his grin, and squinted his blue eyes in deviousness.
“Jason! Don’t. Don’t you dare! No! No! I’m sorry.” I screamed and held my hand up. As soon as I cried again, “Jason!” he lobbed it at my chest and it bounced off me and onto the floor.
“No you’re not. What the hell. You took aim and bombed me!”
I opened my mouth, shocked that he did that, and he swept the glob off my cleavage with his thumb and sucked it clean with a loud kissing noise. “Uh!” I laughed so hard. “You’re the brat. And I’m not afraid of you. You wanna pick a fight with me? I will slam you down any day. Any damn day.” And I did. Or tried to. I leaped onto his lap in a straddle and shoved him down with a palm crash on his beefy shoulders, but I should’ve known he went down too easily.
Laughing, he quickly flipped us and rolled on top of me. We were both suddenly out of breath, winded, abated, aroused. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, zoomed his face down, and sucked and bit my breast where sticky duck sauce residue remained. I howled in surprise and could feel his cock growing hard against me. I ached like nothing else for him to kiss me, to kiss me hard and dirty, to claim my mouth like he just did my boob. I craved it with unmatched fervor, with the deepest longing, especially when he pulled up and looked down at me … wow, like that. He blazed into me. Our chests rose and fell together, and the sound of our respiration created a sultry detonation in the room. “Please, Jason. Please. Please.”
“Kiss me. I need your lips on mine.” I squished sobs behind my clamped jaws before they could fly out and shame me.
“No. I’m not kissing you. I can’t.”
“What, are you like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman or something?”
“Like Julia Roberts? I don’t even know what that means.”
“She played this prostitute who’d do anything with a guy except kiss on the mouth.”
“Yeah, I guess, that’s pretty much my deal. I don’t readily serve up my cock, my mouth, or my heart to just anyone.”
“But … you kissed Addison.”
“How do ya know that?”
“She told me, said you were an amazing kisser.”
“She said that?”
I nodded. “Please, Jason? We’re playing all fiery here. I crave your lips on mine. It’s not fair.”
“No. You are not her, and her boyfriend happened to be screwing her at the time, so it was just part of a ménage scene. That fiery thing between us is exactly why I can’t. We’ll both get scorched. You’re too damn dangerous.”
“I’m not. I just wanna … feel your lips. Please. Just once. For like five seconds.”
“No. It’s a bad idea, a bad, bad drug,” he said, but I couldn’t tell if he was referring to his lips or mine. His hand glided around my throat and he bent down and breathed hot and heavy in my ear before planting a gentle kiss on my temple. “Sweet baby.” He kept saying, “I can’t … I can’t … I can’t,” in a hushed voice like a mantra, but he failed to convince himself even as another, “I can’t,” left his mouth right before he placed it on mine with a nose breath of need. He drank me in and his hand at my neck slid back through my hair and under my head as his tongue surged in through my parted lips. He drove that clit-tickler in so strong and sure with a predatory claim. God, playing saxophone gave him lips with the power of a hurricane. I felt like I was merging with the floor and shuddered against him as he slammed the slick stake into me, over and over again, that said I was his, all his. His slut. His brat. His property. His doll. His sunshine. His!
Just a second ago, I was trying to muster up the strength to deal with another rejection, so my mind and body were shocked to be soaring from his deep, roving thrusts instead. God, he is an amazing kisser. My toes curled. His lips perfectly attuned with mine, spanning wide then shrinking down to tighter circles in synchronicity. I sucked on and tongue-groped his generous offering with all my might, and he groaned sexy, vibrating a lovely bass note in his throat. I was hungry, aching with need, and so damn hot. He started to tear at my flesh with a barbarity that had me moaning and breathing faster against his face. “Ah, Jason.” I wrapped my legs around his back as his snaking tongue and frenzied handholds made my core burn. I mashed my tingling zone against his erection with hip swirls, and he grabbed a hearty handful of ass.
He tore away to ravish my neck, his teeth scraping my flesh, deliciously all vampire.
Moaning his name, I rolled up into him, trying to get closer and rub against his soul. I broke. I gave up. I waved the white flag. I was so done fighting it. I had to have him.
CONNECT WITH DAIZIE DRAPER
Daizie Draper is a happily married sex fiend, who loves to write naughty stories that mix the sweetness of chocolate with the bite of leather. She likes sensuality, kink, fruit, impressionistic art, spanking and beauty. She hates big bugs, freedom crushers, injustice, artificial orange and onions. Along with 27 other people in the world, she has never read Fifty Shades of Grey. Her other works include Sorority Pledge Saga, Unlocking the Billionaire, Rock Candy, Christmas on the Run and Nothing But Trouble.
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