Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Blog Tour: Disgrace by Dee Palmer‏


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I shamed my name. I am a whore. I am a disgrace. I’m all the things my mother made me. I wear my badge with pride because I know the truth, and only those worth a damn see me for who I am, not the label I choose to hide behind.
I am a Domme. I would still rather be a whore than a hypocrite like my mother, or a victim like the daughter she raised me to be.
As Mistress Selina, I can bring a grown man to his knees without so much as a crack of my handmade whip. I love the power and control—what’s not to love? I must be mad to even consider Dominant club owner and King of Kink Jason Sinclair’s proposition.
Two Doms don’t make a right.
Self-preservation has kept me at a safe distance from the one man who could change all that. The only man who wields power like a sensual sword and keeps me balanced on that knife’s edge. My choice is simple: He wants me to switch for him. But if I do, will I bleed or will I fall?






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“So much for taking it slow.” My voice is breathless ragged pants of air.
“There is much to be discussed.” His gaze hold me captive, his voice is soft and mesmerising. “How we proceed with this relationship Sam…with me as your Dominant… I intend to take slow. But how I feel right now has nothing to do with that and has fuck all to do with being slow. I need to be inside you…now.” The sexual tension radiates off him like a palpable force, permeating my every nerve ending with wanton desire and rendering me almost speechless…almost.
“Oh,” One breathy exhale is all I can manage.
“Oh.” He repeats. His lips curl with a knowing nefarious smile that makes my tummy tighten with anticipation. In one swift sequence of smooth manoeuvres Jason grabs my hand, strides purposefully straight into my bedroom and dramatically swings me into the centre of the room. He steps me flush to the bed, pushing me back. He follows my reclining body with his, only millimetres separate our combustive heat. He lifts and pulls my sweater over my head and pushes me flat, his fingertips splayed on my chest. He must be able to feel my heart thumping from the inside. “Don’t move.” His deep voice is gravelly with lust. He crawls back down the bed, hooking his fingers in my waistband and dragging my leggings and panties all the way down my legs. He takes his time and I squirm with the build up of delicious pressure at the apex of my legs.
He kneels on the floor and cups his large palms around the back of my knees pulling me toward the edge of the bed. Scooping my legs over his shoulders he clamps his hands around my hips and lifts me so my centre is within kissing distance of his lips. “Fuck I could die right now… because this is heaven.” His words blur with the cry that escapes from deep inside me the moment his tongue touches my core. Soft, then firm, the pressure is perfect as he works his mouth from my tender folds to my needy nub of nerves. His lips cover me and he sucks for what feels like a life time. His hands grip hard because my whole body is thrown in to a wild display of spasms and convulsions. If it wasn’t for my cries of don’t stop I’m pretty sure he would think I was having a seizure. God this feels so good. I thread my fingers into is short but surprisingly soft hair making my need to grip a challenge. It’s a futile attempt to control him though, my hand is just pulled along, any which way his head chooses to go. He inserts a finger, maybe two and curls them around, swirling and teasing my most sensitive tissue inside.
I push my head back into the mattress and my back strikes the perfect arc as every muscle in my body tenses, not even a breath escapes me when I freeze. He holds me there on the crest for days…Christ it feels like days because I sag with utter exhaustion by the time my muscles relax and I am cognisant again.
He looks at me through his dark lashes and sensually drags his bottom lip through his teeth groaning with pleasure as he scrapes the taste of me from his mouth. “You look sleepy.” He lets my floppy legs slide off his broad shoulders and I don’t have the strength, but to let them slide off the side of the bed too. I hear a buckle chink and some clothes rustle and drop to the floor. I can’t move. He chuckles as he stalks up my body, slowly rousing it with gentle kisses. “You can’t be sleepy.” His tongue flicks my perky nipple through the delicate lace of my bra. He nips the end through the material, holding it hostage in his teeth. I sigh and stretch, sinking my body away from his bite, just enough that I test his hold and up to the point where it hurts. I whimper and can feel his lips carve a smile against my breast. I lift my head just as he releases me from his teeth but grabs and moulds me in his hand. “I’m still hungry.” He sucks my whole nipple into his mouth, hard. I feel the draw from my toes. The lace of my bra is now wet and feels rough against my soft skin, the suction is incredible. If I didn’t know better I would swear he’s trying to mark me. His large hands sweep under the edge of my bra, around and under my back. He releases the clip and he pulls away, triumphantly swinging my bra like a trophy.
I laugh at his goofy grin but the heat in his glare evaporates any humour from the room. This man is lethal. He wedges his knees between my thighs and slides on to his side, half on me, half supporting his full weight. One arm is draped across his muscled, cut torso, his hand fisting his impressive cock. I still haven’t had the chance to take him in. In the cupboard at the wedding I could feel his body was toned, felt his muscled back and chest but he kept his suit on the entire time. Even now we are a tangle of limbs, I can’t really see his body but I can see his cock. Large doesn’t do him justice. I thought his hands were big but they look more like a child’s as he languidly strokes himself up and down. His grin widens when he catches my stare, he chuckles when I snap my jaw shut. How did I not remember that and why the fuck did I not return his call!
Oh yes because this isn’t just sex, this isn’t the thrill of a casual hook-up, this isn’t me in charge…This is much, much more dangerous.
He leans over my body and pushes his velvet head between my folds and it feels surreal, delicious and erotic and wrong. I clamp my legs together but he is firmly wedging them wide.
“Condom!” I cry but it sounds more like a screech because he physically recoils at the volume.
“Sorry?” He looks down to where we are almost joined. He nudges a little further and I curve my spine sharply ensuring minimum safe distance.
“Condom Jason.” I repeat but his eyes narrow and he breathes in deeply through his nose like I have said something irritating.
“You’re clean…I’m clean. You told me last time you were on birth control. I don’t want to wear a condom with you Sam.” He grates out the words slowly with a touch of menace.
“You can’t be serious Jason. I’m a whore!” That make him flinch, his jaw clenches and his eyes look like they could burn my soul right out of me. He is furious.
“I don’t give a shit what you call yourself Sam. Give me one damn reason why I can’t fuck you bareback? One reason relating to health that is because I won’t accept any other reason.” His tone softens. I can’t believe he doesn’t care that I’m a whore.
I mean I can’t believe that he obviously cares but not about that and he doesn’t even know the truth.
I am in so much trouble.







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One lucky person will win a Buckley (London) “Air” necklace and earrings.


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Dee Palmer hates talking about herself in the third person so I won’t. My husband had my iPod engraved one Christmas with ‘sing like no-one’s listening’ and I know my family actually wish they weren’t listening because I am, in fact, tone deaf but it doesn’t stop me and this gentle support has enabled me to fulfil a dream. This has been a truly brilliant experience, I wrote The Choices Trilogy back to back and released them this year just one month apart...Don't you hate waiting for the next book in a series? The entire process has undoubtedly been made possible by my incredibly supportive family. I know this is very much an acknowledgment but I know I wouldn’t be writing even this single paragraph if it wasn’t for them so this is about who I am, I am because they let me be.
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