Authors: Jan Bowles
Bowles, Jan - Claimed for the Master's Pleasure [Guilty Pleasures 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)
Guilty Pleasures 5
Claimed for the Master's Pleasure
When Lia Constantine’s father dies suddenly, she’s shocked to discover he’s left casino debts totaling more than one million dollars. Unless she sells the family home, making herself homeless, she cannot repay the debt.
Under difficult circumstances, self-made billionaire Jake Benetti, owner of the Arabian Nights Casino, meets the incredibly beautiful Lia Constantine for the first time. As soon as he sees her, he knows she holds the key to unlocking his broken heart. He cannot allow this highly alluring woman to slip through his fingers. Caught between the past and the future, he makes her an offer she simply can’t refuse—until Lia repays her father’s gambling debts, he owns her, mind, body, and soul.
Lia is into the BDSM lifestyle as much as Jake is, but with their D/s relationship beginning to blossom, will the money drive a wedge between them? Can they ever find happiness together?
Genre:
BDSM, Contemporary
Length:
41,265 words
CLAIMED FOR THE MASTER’S PLEASURE
Guilty Pleasures 5
Jan Bowles
EVERLASTING CLASSIC
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic
CLAIMED FOR THE MASTER’S PLEASURE
Copyright © 2012 by Jan Bowles
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-289-4
First E-book Publication: January 2012
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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Claimed for the Master’s Pleasure
by Jan Bowles from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
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This is Jan Bowles’ livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Bowles’ right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It is the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It is the one who won’t be taken who cannot seem to give. And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.
—Bette Midler
Guilty Pleasures 5
JAN BOWLES
Copyright © 2012
The irritating rap burst once more into her dream, rousing her from the best sleep she’d had in ages. Lia Constantine pulled the pillow over her head, trying to recapture the pleasant state she’d been in.
The noise invaded her senses again, setting her nerves on edge. “Go away,” she mumbled, fighting to return to the highly erotic dream she’d just been enjoying. A gorgeous guy, with the physique of a Greek god, was just about to make love to her. The unwanted interruption couldn’t have come at a more inappropriate moment.
A third annoying rap broke into her dream. This time, Lia recognized the sound. There was somebody at the front door.
“Okay, okay, I hear you, I hear you,” she shouted, stumbling from the bed and dragging on a robe. “Give me a minute, for Christ’s sake.”
An unenviable reflection greeted her as she walked into the hallway. The full-length mirror captured her image mercilessly. Through bleary eyes she saw the destructive effect of a night out with her best friend. Her thick blonde hair stuck up in great, long tufts. Makeup was still on her face from the night before, but totally rearranged. Were panda eyes fashionable? Still, she’d had a great night out, celebrating Monica’s twenty-fifth birthday. Last night was the first time she’d really enjoyed herself since the untimely death of her father one month ago.
Whoever was at the door would just have to take her as she was. After walking downstairs, she tentatively opened the door a few inches and wearily peered through the gap. A handsome young man with an infectious smile greeted her. He held a huge bouquet of lilies in his arms.
“Flower delivery for you, ma’am.”
It was the biggest bouquet of lilies Lia had ever seen, and she’d seen more than her fair share during the last year. “Are you sure they’re for me?”
“Well, unless you know of another Lia Constantine who lives at 43 Mount Drive? Perhaps you have a secret admirer, ma’am.”
“I doubt it,” she scoffed as they were thrust into her arms. As the young man walked away, Lia wondered whom they could be from.
Still half-asleep, she made her way to the kitchen and placed them on the table, then prepared herself a strong black coffee. It took enormous effort to keep her eyes open as she poured the hot beverage into her favorite mug. Once it was made, she sat at the table and cupped the steaming liquid in her hands, feeling like death warmed up.
“Never again,” she whispered to herself. “I’m going teetotal from now on.”
As Lia idly sipped her coffee, she noticed a small, pale pink envelope lying within the blooms. She fished it from the bouquet and tore it open. Inside was a card.
Ms. Constantine,
My deepest condolences on the death of your father.
I have arranged a meeting for 2:00 p.m. today at my place of work.
I strongly suggest you take the opportunity to attend.
Owner, Arabian Nights Casino, Las Vegas
Lia scratched her head in annoyance. “Jake Benetti? Who the hell is Jake Benetti? And who the hell does he think he is?”
I strongly suggest you take the opportunity to attend?
How dare he?
She turned the card over looking for an explanation. “Damn.” There was nothing but a photograph of the casino itself—a tall building of some fifty floors or more, glittering like a tacky jewel in the Las Vegas night sky.
“What the hell does this Benetti guy want from me?” she mumbled into her coffee. Surely he had the wrong woman? She looked at the card again. How did he know her father was dead? Did he even know her father? She couldn’t imagine he’d have any connection with a seedy casino owner. She assumed it was a case of mistaken identity.