Claimed by You

By Vanessa Devereaux

Emma Snow makes her living as an escort to some of London’s richest men. What begins as a routine call to one of her clients ends in his murder. Detective Mark Hargreeves enters her life and is now assigned to protect her, because she is a witness to the crime.

She is immediately drawn to him, and senses like many of her clients, that he is another troubled soul. She wants him, lusts for him, but he still loves his wife who died in childbirth. Emma knows he probably would not want and could not love a woman who makes her living pleasuring other men, but she is willing to do anything to have him as her own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Palmquist
• Release date: Nov 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310354465

Vanessa Devereaux

Vanessa Devereaux is the bestselling author of erotic romances and erotica including Cater to Me, The Rake, Who's the Boss, and The Pleasure Room. She's also pens three ongoing series, Perfect Pairing, Big Sky County and Kalispell Shifters.

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Claimed by You

Vanessa Devereaux

Published by Coldstream Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Vanessa Devereaux

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Back to Top

Chapter 1

London 1878

Sometimes our lives can take the strangest turns. A person enters it and quickly becomes your savior. In my case, it was a policeman…a copper with beautiful blue eyes.

When I approached 112 Cumberland Place that morning everything looked the same, and I had no idea what would soon unfold within its walls, and that the man of my dreams would walk into my life around noon that day.

The same routine was followed every Tuesday morning. The master of the house dismissed all the staff an hour before I was scheduled to arrive. He was a private man and never wished anyone in his employ to know how he sought and took his pleasure.

Sir Michael, a psychiatrist by profession, was a man who liked things to be perfect.

We had kept the same appointment, same day, same time, for a little over a year. He liked order and sameness, an almost obsessive behavior that I guessed was the reason many of his patients sought his help. For, he too, knew what it was like to live with such an affliction. On our first meeting he’d sat and gone through step-by-step what I was to do upon arriving at his house.

I would get there at shortly before ten a.m. That day I was a few minutes late, because it had been raining and the hansom cab had taken more time to travel along Charing Cross Road. Upon arriving, I climbed the stairs to the front door, put my hand behind the flowerpot on the windowsill and searched around in the dirt for the key. Due to the heavy rain, it had become muddy, so by the time I retrieved it, I had to wipe mud from it before placing it into the lock.

After pushing the door open, I stepped inside and wiped my feet on the mat. The smell of polished wood hit my nostrils, and I assumed the servants had spent the better part of the morning cleaning the banisters and walls. Cleanliness was another one of Sir Michael’s obsessions. He liked his house as neat as a pin. His women in the same condition. I proceeded up the stairs to go about my ritual that he insisted upon before he had contact with me. He required that he was my first client of the day, and paid extra for the privilege.

After heading up the stairs to the first floor, I pushed open the door to the bathroom and walked inside. I shut it, knowing I would have complete privacy, but still wanted to go through my ritual in my own secure world. I placed my bag onto the floor and then took off my clothes, laying each piece neatly across the edge of the bathtub.

Once naked, I glanced at myself in the mirror. A curvy young woman like myself sometimes was not always in demand, but I knew how to please a man, so my days were always filled.

I reached for the sponge and bar of soap Sir Michael left especially for me. Despite my lateness, the water in the bowl was still tepid. He had always insisted that once the downstairs clock stuck ten I be in position and ready for his grand entrance. Time was of the essence, so I hurried. After dipping both soap and sponge into the bowl, I worked up a lather and proceeded to wipe the sponge over my pubic hair. I spread my legs and worked it into my folds. The coldness bit into the delicate skin around my pussy. I took the edge and pushed it up into my channel, cleaning myself to his