Blitz: Stolen Donor by Cee Smith

            ~Hailey~ I did everything that was expected of me. I got good grades, went to a good college; I never even had a boyfriend, which for a normal girl of twenty-two was practically unheard of. My life was safe, predictable. That all changed when Dominic kidnapped me, robbing me of the cookie-cutter life I so carefully handcrafted. I was abducted and a new me was born. ~Dominic~ I spent so long uncovering secrets that it was becoming a bit of a specialty for me. After watching Hailey for twelve months I knew the secrets she held—the repressed temptation that called to men like me. Stealing her was easy, making her fall in love with me, even easier. It was the feeling she sparked in me that I had no control over. A feeling I never expected. But the one thing that threatened to unravel us both was my secret, the reason I took her in the first place. Dominic and Hailey were two people from two different worlds, and some paths should never cross. WARNING: This book contains situations that some may find offensive. Please read with caution if you are sensitive to dubious consent or graphic language.   BUY LINKS AMAZON US http://amzn.to/1NqJFdC AMAZON UK http://amzn.to/1Ns7IL8

  His fingers kissed across my neck reminding me of the bruise I wore like a choker. I sat stock still while he circled my neck with his fingers. He disappeared behind my back, but his fingers still trailed, reminding me of his closeness. "About what I said earlier…I think it’s time to start doling out some of these punishments you’re racking up. Wouldn’t you say? You seem to be in such good spirits now." His stiff words before were now slippery, alive with the sadistic touch that usually preceded my humiliation. "I don’t know what I’ve done that warrants punishment." "Yes you do. All you have to do is merely look at your clothes to know one of the—" "—but I needed warmer clothes." My voice rose, bordering on hysterical. I needed to know what could happen if I didn’t wear the clothes. How far was Dominic willing to go? I saw how angry he could get, but I didn’t want to just be scared of a possibility. "I hope it was worth it," he whispered in my ear, his orange musky scent draping across my shoulders like a shawl. "Take it off, all of it. Since you don’t know how to follow direction, I’ll spell it out for you. I want every scrap of clothing that’s on you right now off your body and in my hands in two minutes. You won’t be wearing anything until your clothes are laid out for you tomorrow morning." "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked as I pushed to get up. "Would you rather I hit you? Surely I could beat the stubbornness out of you, but you seem to respond well to humiliation. It’s just the same to me." He shrugged his shoulders as if choosing between the two would be like deciding whether to have peas or carrots. I didn’t like his indifference to the idea of beating me. It revealed more about him than I had seen thus far. He looked at his watch as if timing me, and I began stripping off my clothes—my shoes, my pants, my vest, my sweater. I left my undergarments last, secretly hoping that I could cling to these two scraps that did little to conceal, but when he looked at his watch again, I unclasped my bra and pulled my underwear down with hands that shook from the nerves as much as the cold air that whipped my skin in its brutality. With all of my clothes piled at my feet, I scooped them up and attempted to hand the load over to him. His arms stayed folded. It wasn’t enough that he had made me strip like this, but then the bastard had the nerve to refuse my clothes, only taking them once I had folded them neatly and placed them back in his arms. My hands rose, barely covering myself as I gritted, "Happy now? I’m freezing." "You’re to still come down for dinner like this, and I swear, if you come down with so much as a piece of lint on you, I’ll beat your bottom blue." He dipped down, his face closing the distance between us. As if I would actually kiss him after that! I turned my cheek, and he chuckled before pecking me lightly, dismissing me with a swat on my butt.      

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Cee Smith is a lover of the written word. Since first learning how to string a sentence together, she’s been putting pen to paper and hasn’t looked back. Though she’s no longer obsessed with blood and gore, the dark side still calls to her, often finding refuge in her current writings. Her addiction to reading is what finally inspired her to take a chance at publishing. A California native, currently residing in North Carolina with her husband. She loves salacious stories, true love and forbidden romances—the more angst the better. Other than reading and writing, some of her other obsessions are peanut butter (don’t get her started), Michael Fassbender, and watching tv. She loves talking about the creative process and what books she’s reading, so feel free to shoot her a line. Or if you just want to say hi that’s fine too. She swears she’ll respond.