Shelfari edited the description of Shaken and Stirred Monday, September 5, 2011.
Secret agent Kizzie Baldwin has a mission with a simple objective: Steal a formula while attending the festivities on the villainous Xander Duquesne's luxury yacht. There's just one problem—she has no idea it's a BDSM party. Dom and criminal mastermind Xander is a man who likes to be prepared. But the unexpected run-in with Kizzie throws him for a loop. Will he give her what she came for, or a little something extra? *1st appeared in the Summer Heat Anthology. Visit my website to get both FREE! - - - - Excerpt: “Why isn’t someone stopping this?” Kizzie hadn’t meant to speak, but something needed to be done. She took a step forward when Xander stopped her with an arm around her middle, holding her firm. “Ah-ah-ahhh. You know the rules, don’t you, Princess? Never interrupt a scene.” The man tugged on a clothespin, stretching the connected nipple and bringing a barrage of cries from his playmate. “He’s hurting her,” Kizzie said through clenched teeth. Intel suggested Xander had a sadistic streak, but this was barbaric! “Safe, sane, and consensual. A Master would never do anything not agreed upon with his submissive,” he assured. “And if he did, it’s my place to step in, not yours.” Well, step in already, dammit! The woman screeched and Kizzie cringed, unable to comprehend why someone would want to do this. A slap on the butt in the middle of sex was one thing, but this? This was too much…wasn’t it? Years ago when she was just a green agent, Kizzie was in her kitchen deciding on dinner when the guy she’d been dating smacked her on the ass hard enough to make her eyes tear. Without thought she lifted her heel and connected with his groin and then flipped him over her shoulder, landing him flat on his back. He was straddled and his neck pinned to the ground by her forearm two seconds after. The terrified confusion blanketing his face was the only thing that made Kizzie back off. No surprise the relationship ended minutes later, but the wetness between her thighs came as a huge shock. Doomed before it started, that relationship. A love life was a professional hazard for an agent, all the secrets and unexplained disappearances. That’s why Bond kept so many sexy girls handy, she reasoned. Mr. “Martini—shaken, not stirred” sure as hell didn’t go home to the old ball and chain. Nope, stick and move; bang her and on to the next one. Classic Bond, and Kizzie had long ago determined to follow his lead. With an aptitude to recall miniscule bits of detail, she considered it a gift when she didn’t remember a lover’s name, infrequent as they were. Satisfied moans brought her attention back to the woman whose expression was almost trancelike in its euphoria. “That’s a good girl,” the man in the circle cooed. His fingers pistoned in and out of her pussy; juices oozed down her leg. A flick of a latch released her from the pole and she dropped to her hands and knees. He patted her ass. “Who wants some?” The crowd swarmed her, hands probing, touching. Her Master stood nearby, orchestrating as people went about stuffing the girl’s every orifice. She deep-throated one guy while a woman shoved a vibrator into her pussy. Others removed the clothespins from her body, lapping at the pinched skin. She jerked with every touch to her hypersensitive flesh. The stimulation was too much for Kizzie, and damn if the team wasn’t getting it all on tape. How would she ever explain this to Connolly? Still, she didn’t look away. “Stats,” Solomon warned. But her adrenaline was pumping for an entirely different reason. Blood thundered in her ears, her vision blurred. Soft whimpers pushed through the fog and it took her a moment to realize she was making the noises. “You want to go next, Princess?” Xander’s hand splayed possessively over her belly. Body pressed the length of hers, he ground his semi-erect cock against her ass. In a rough whisper he said, “I’d be happy to tie you up and spank you. I think you’re a very naughty girl."