His Rules: Taken By Surprise

By Lyla Sinclair

CPA Lauren Hughes has been so busy working on taxes, she hasn’t managed to
cultivate a love life. She’s so desperate for fun, she accepts a ticket to what she
thinks is a rave. When she finds everyone at a mansion playing board games, she
thinks she’s been had...until she doesn’t win and learns that Richard, her host,
has very special consequences for losing. If only she hadn’t been too vain to wear
glasses, she’d have read the rules in the foyer and have a clue about what the
players expect her to do next. But with tall, dark, and sexy Richard in charge,
Lauren can’t bring herself to leave before she learns exactly what he has in store
for her.

Warning: The "His Rules" series contains explicit sex, bondage/bdsm,
domination, group sex games, and other "alternative" forms of sexual
stimulation. These stories are not for the easily offended.
This is the first in the "His Rules" short story trilogy along with His Rules 2:
Taken Wet and His Rules 3: Taken Completely. Each is a short story that
can stand alone, or as part of the Lauren and Richard saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyla Sinclair
• Release date: Apr 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458024152

Lyla Sinclair

Lyla loves to be alone at sunset, dreaming up new erotic encounters to satisfy her readers' cravings. But most of the day, she can be found lying on the beach, surrounded by nubile young bodies, all of whom are at her beck and call. Eyes closed, sun warming her scantily clad body, she dictates her most lurid fantasies to one of her young sex-slaves as she’s massaged, manicured and lulled to sleep by a nude Spanish guitarist. These catnaps are important, since her nights are spent gorging herself on young men and chocolate (though she never, ever gains weight).

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His Rules:  Taken by Surprise

By Lyla Sinclair

Copyright Lyla Sinclair 2010

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Lyla Sinclair

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in whole or in part by any means without written permission from the author at [e-mail].

All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, with or without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Mazda: Mazda Motor Corporation

Chapter One

I couldn’t believe what I was doing, as my Mazda crept forward, looking for the address printed on a gold-leaf invitation in my lap. Although it was completely out of character for me, I—Lauren Hughes—was on my way to a night of unknown revelry with a group of strangers.

But when I turned right and found myself driving up a long private lane to what appeared to be a mansion ahead, I began having second thoughts. Who were these people? They seemed way out of my league, financially, and it was hard to imagine that anyone living in a house shaped like a castle was putting on some kind of rave. So why would they invite Marissa?

I pulled up onto the cobblestone drive in front of the house and stopped. Had Marissa done this to humiliate me? My car door popped open suddenly and I jumped.

Sorry to startle you, Miss, a valet, decked out in an elegant black uniform, said as he pulled my door open and put out his hand for me.

I let him help me out of the car. Am I at the right place? I asked, noting how quiet it seemed from the outside.

He glanced down at my golden ticket. Yes, Miss. The cars are around back. The others are already here. He motioned toward the front door. Before I could change my mind, he jumped into my car and drove away, leaving me to shiver with nerves in the cool night air.

I thought again about who’d sent me here, and this little outing seemed even more ill advised.

Marissa, who my co-workers and I call the Mistress of Darkness, had been giving