#NewRelease and #Giveaway - Claimed by the Bad Boy by London Saint James (@LSJRomance), a @DecadentPub #BDSM #Romance

I'm giving a shout out to my Decadent Publishing pub-buddy London Saint James.  The second installment in her Bad Boy Fever series came out today, and this (warning needed, scorching hot, adults-only, kinky-filled) excerpt should whet the appetite of many a BDSM romance fan. She's also running a giveaway for a $10 gift card, so don't forget to scroll all the way down to take advantage of the Rafflecopter. 

Claimed by the Bad Boy


by  London Saint James

Something always brings him back to her...

Ryker Cage is a rough guy, with very particular tastes when it comes to sex. Rough, hard, and dirty is the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He doesn’t have a clue about connecting with his sensitive side in the bedroom, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit. He fears nothing, except—his feelings for the sweet and innocent Molly Monroe.

The bad boy who lived next door claimed Molly’s heart long ago. Crazy, or not, she loves him. Always has. No matter what he does to push her away, nor how far he runs, Ryker is the one man she’ll never stop loving.

When Ryker finally finds his way back home, will he find the courage to claim what's always been his? Or, will he be destined for heartache when someone threatens to take everything away?

Excerpt (For Mature Audiences Only.... You have been warned.)

“Fuck,” Ryker said in a gruff grumble, staring down at the smoking-hot, red-headed bartender on her knees, polishing his dick with her tongue stud—her shorts unzipped, her right hand tucked inside—rubbing herself. Let’s just say, when he ordered a deep throat, this wasn’t what he had in mind.

“You’re-so-big,” she managed between long licks. “Just look at you.”

He was a big guy, so hearing what she thought he wanted, wasn’t a turn on. What was? The way Red nibbled down his length and fondled his balls.

He sucked a breath through his teeth. The little vixen teabagged him.

“Sweet.” His head went back when she trailed her tongue up his sack, between his testicles, continued up his shaft, swirled the metal piercing of hers across the winking slit of his cock before wrapping those lips around the broad head—sucking him hard. “There you go.”

“Do you like that?” she asked.


The bar-babe picked up the pace, using her left hand to grip the base of him, alternating between jacking and sucking.

“Keep it up, and I’ll come, baby,” he said.

Ryker had no idea what she said her name was. Why? Easy. He’d been too busy eyeing her round ass jiggle in those skin-tight daisy dukes when he escorted her to the back door of The Cherry Bomb for a cigarette, although he didn’t smoke. And when she rubbed up against him—supple breasts to muscled chest—whispering things like, “Suck,” and “You,” and “Down the back of my throat” into his ear, they’d taken a quick detour.

He wasn’t what one would consider sensitive when it came to the opposite sex. Rough, hard, and dirty was the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He supposed his tastes were very particular. And, he didn’t have a clue about connecting with his softer side, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit his free-spirited aunt Dali spouted to him and his brother every chance she got.

The bombshell scraped her teeth up his shaft and he groaned low in his throat, muscles flexing, fingers splaying wide on the two, steel-sidewalls of the stall—calves hitting the front of the toilet.

“Mmm….” The little hum she did sent a satisfying vibration down the length of him.

The shine from the overhead light bounced off the top of her head, setting a sunset blaze as she bobbed up and down on his cock. She was eager. Focused. Determined to have him bust a nut. He growled at the sight. She reminded him of a porn star by the sounds she made. And the suctioned pull of her mouth on him with the twist at the tip, along with the hand-tug at the root—freaking brilliant. But when she changed things up and twirled her tongue around the under-edge of his flared head, good God, the combination was shiver inducing. Having been the happy recipient of a lot of differing techniques in his almost thirty-two years, Ryker figured she hadn’t learned to do that without plenty of practice.

Shit. She did the combo thing again. Red had him there. Ready.

“I’m going to come,” he warned.

She popped her plump lips from his throbbing dick. “Mm, yes,” she uttered in a breathy voice. A second later, he exploded, warm jizz covering her manicured fingers and silky-smooth palm, while she shook—her other hand still shoved down the front of her shorts—climaxing.

Ryker closed his eyes for a moment reveling in the extraordinary haze of nothingness. No thoughts. No guilt. Nothing but the slowing of his breaths until they drifted into quietness.

“Good?” she asked, disrupting the silence.

His eyelids lifted and he glanced down into her face. “Great, baby.”

She took on an eye-twinkling, pleased expression, then Red slipped her fingers free, reached for the toilet paper, and wiped her cum-covered appendages.

“I’m off in a couple of hours.” She smiled up at him—a dimple creasing the right side of her cheek.

Ignoring the comment, Ryker righted himself and tucked his softening cock back into his pants in an efficient manner. Here was the part he detested the most. He hadn’t thought Red would be a clinger. He figured she’d be well versed in the rules of a random hook-up. But he also understood what her last statement was leading to. She wanted more, and he didn’t.

When Red stood up, his gaze shifted to her. She reached around him and tossed the TP in the toilet, zipped up, turned, unlocked the slider on the stall door, and stepped out. They were the only two in the restroom. He was glad they didn’t have an audience awaiting their exit.

“Want to hang around for a while?” she asked. “We can go back to my place when I clock out.”

They both cleaned up at the sinks. No need to wait. He wouldn’t be going to her place.

“Can’t.” He added soap from the dispenser to his palm. “Early morning.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled while washing her hands.

Jesus. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a fuss. He hated those pouty, I-can’t-believe-I-blew-you, you bastard, scenes. But when her green-eyed gaze met his sea-blue one in the mirror, she appeared fine. No frown. No pursed lips. No tears threatening to overflow. She didn’t look as if she were going to go all fatal attraction on his ass.

She asked, “Do you want my digits?”

Ryker rinsed and dried his hands. He might be an epic asshole at times, nonetheless taking her number, and acting as though he would call, wasn’t something he’d do.

“I think we both know I won’t be calling.” Being as upfront as he could be, he strived not to sound too douchebaggery.

She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” Red sauntered to the restroom door. Glancing over her shoulder at him she said, “Thanks for taking a ciggy break with me.”

“Sure thing, although I should be the one thanking you.” She grinned. “So, thank you.” No reason not to be polite. After all, Red did all the work, and even got herself off in the doing. He’d just been along for the joy ride.

“I guess I’ll see you around the club, Ryker.”


He stared after her. Something about the way she said “I’ll see you around” in a soft, almost remorseful tone, reminded him of—

“Don’t,” he reprimanded and scrubbed his palm down the back of his neck.

Fan-fucking-tastic. He was talking to himself now.

He pulled his cell from the top pocket of his shirt, gripping too hard.

Letting up before he broke his phone, he brushed his thumb across the black screen, bringing it to life, and gritted his teeth. Ryker detested this. He despised a lot of things when it came to his desires he supposed, and this ache for something he couldn’t have kept him traveling so much over the past year, taking on software security jobs, which took him away from home. Far from….


So much for the bliss of oblivion, which was, let’s face it, always fleeting. Chasing that short-lived minute was part of the reason for his extracurricular activities. To stop thinking. Forget. Lose himself. And here he was, minutes after his latest quickie, contemplating a conversation better left alone. Nothing good would ever come from what he was considering.

Ryker glanced down at the phone—finger poised.

“Screw it.”

He typed in his text. Paused. Thumb hovering for a long moment, reading those four words over and over. And, then, unable to do anything else, he pressed—send.

About London Saint James

London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook Group | Facebook Page 

#NewRelease Spotlight: #Spanked by the Bad Boy by London Saint James (@LSJRomance) - a @DecadentPub #BDSM #romance

I'm delighted to welcome fellow Decadent Publishing author London St. James here today. She's got a brand spanking new BDSM romance out (pun intended), and I can't wait to share the smoking hot excerpt she's using to tease us all with.

But first, a few administrative details...


There's a Rafflecopter widget at the bottom of this post. Just thought I should remind you now, in case you get too distracted by the excerpt. 


The following post may contain sexual content, BDSM elements, and explicit descriptions (including but not limited to 4-letter words that start with C). If you would rather not read such things, please don't continue. By not leaving, you are acknowledging you are at least 18 years old or the age of consent in your country. 


Spanked by the Bad Boy

by London Saint James

Genre: Contemporary, erotic romance, suspense, thriller, spanking

As the personal assistant to the owner of one of the top engineering firms in Denver, Tiffany Brooks has worked hard at maintaining a professional façade, intent on ridding herself of terrible habits—like her attraction to bad boys. But when the owner of DC Construction rides his chopper into her world two years after their one-time anonymous sexual encounter, everything turns upside down.

Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.

Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?

Buy Links: Decadent | Amazon | Amazon UK | Kobo | iTunes


“Straddle me, sugar,” he said in a sandpaper voice, all grit.

Willing to go where she knew she shouldn’t tread, she did what he asked, throwing one leg over his lap, knees sinking into the leather cushion on either side of his denim clad thighs. His hands went to her hips. Slid down farther, where he stopped. His fingertips touched her flesh. Using his thumbs, he stroked the front of her thighs, undoing her. Shivers traversed her arms and legs. Her sex pulsed.

He inched her skirt up, working until the fabric bunched around her waist. When cool air struck the back of her thighs, one side of his mouth quirked up. He appeared pleased with himself for exposing her panties.

“I’ll give you exactly what you crave,” he said and ripped the thong from her body.

Tiffany sucked in a breath. He threw the tattered silk to the floor with his right hand while flicking her clit ring with the forefinger of his left. “Nice adornment.” He tugged on her piercing, giving her the right amount of pressure. “But you need me to scratch your itch, don’t you, baby?”

She’d come too far to lie about what she needed now. Nodding, she whispered, “Harder.”

He chuckled, and the sound was a flashpoint of sensation added to the slow stroke of the fingers he’d slipped between her crease.

She leaned forward, hand resting on the top of the sofa by his head, and kissed him. While their tongues tangled, he rubbed her, his other hand going to her hair where he tugged the clip, releasing the long strands. They tumbled down her back in time with his palm curling around the base of her neck, claiming her.

Oh, she liked the way he took possession. Everything feminine inside her needed the pure maleness of him. Tiffany nibbled at his bottom lip, pulling scant inches from his mouth. “You make me burn,” she admitted.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said and plunged a finger inside of her.

“Ahh, yeah,” she uttered her approval.

He shoved his finger deeper. “You’re so wet.”


Her hand went to his bulging crotch. She squeezed him through his jeans. He groaned. With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his fly, freeing his thick cock from the denim. When the heavy head rested in her palm, she smiled. He was fantastic, and she’d known from past experience he’d be commando.

Wrapping her fingers around the base of his superb erection, she began to pump him. “Good?”

“Hell, yes,” he said and fingered her in earnest, inserting another. His thumb pressed hard against her clitoris, sending heated spikes of sensation through her body. She moaned, spreading the silken pre-cum leaking from him with her fingertip and licking her lips. Tiffany wanted to taste him. Put her lips over the crown. Skim her mouth along his shaft. Take him down the back of her throat. She swallowed, knowing the feeling when she took him inside her pussy would be even better. She needed to experience her sex stretched over the head of his dick again. The fiery invasion. The awareness of being totally filled when he pressed into her tight channel.

Her chest heaving, she mumbled, “Condom.”

“Sorry, sugar. We’ll have to settle for this,” he said. Declan removed his fingers from her body and tugged her hips down on him before he placed his steel between her feminine folds. “Slide your sweetness along the length of my cock.”

Oh, God. She was so slick, she easily made the glide up and down, her chest rubbing against his.

In the next instant, he splayed his large hands across her ass, pulling her against him even tighter. This was good, sex without penetration, something she’d never done before, and the delicious sensation had her nipples pebbled hard against the material of her bra, but when he flicked out his tongue, everything got better. She moaned and gave him access to her neck, where he wasted no time and tickled the hollow of her throat before he nipped at the soft flesh with his teeth. She shivered.

“There you go.” The vibration of his deep voice sent a wave of pleasure across the canvas of her flesh. Every part of her body hungered for his touch. He slapped her ass. She jumped and lost her rhythm—taken aback. “Faster,” he demanded, and she didn’t have time to consider if she liked the swat or not. He spanked her again. “Move your fine ass.”

She complied, sliding herself up and down. He slapped her ass once more, but this time the sensation sent a buzz to her already-stimulated clit. The joy spreading across her caught— a wildfire.

“Again,” she uttered in a breathy voice.

“Like that, do you?”

God help her, she did.

About London Saint James

London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook Profile | Facebook Page | Bad Boy Fever Fan Page | Goodreads