Welcome to My Sexy Saturday. This week, in honour of the Australian Open, my co-authored novel GRAND SLAM is on special offer at just 99c/99p.
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California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.
I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.
“The bedroom’s that way,” Travis said, then practically shoved me into a stunningly big room with a large chocolate-brown leather bed and dark built-in furniture.
Was I dreaming? Floating? Had I taken something illegal that was giving me the mother of all highs? I wasn’t sure of the answer, but my God it felt good. My senses were alive, my heart pounding; every breath seemed to course through my body, delivering oxygen, yes, but also neat lust to each cell of my being.
Travis strode over to the window, drew the heavy black curtains then turned to me, hands on his hips, his feet apart and his eyebrows drawn down low and determined.
I gulped. It was an expression I’d seen on him a couple of times before. I never thought I’d see it directed at me, though. In the past I’d always seen Travis Connolly glare like that just before he won a match point at a major tournament. It was his “I’m going to get exactly what I want and there’s nothing you can do to stop me” stare.
A quiver of nerves attacked my belly, sending goose bumps skittering over my skin. They all seemed to congregate on my arse, and again I was reminded of the smarting and the sting of my dress rubbing against the sore flesh.
“Turn around,” he said, reaching for the top button of his shirt. “Now.”
I did as he asked and set my focus on a stack of black silk pillows on his bed.
“Take your shoes off.”
I slipped out of my sandals, kicked them to one side. The carpet was soft on the soles of my feet and I felt even smaller than I had before.
“And your dress.”
I reached for a zip at the side.
“Did you hear what I said?” he snapped.
“Yes, Sir, Marie. You answer me ‘yes, Sir’ when I tell you to do something.”
“Yes… Sir.” My voice quavered a little in my throat. Excitement certainly, but also apprehension. By saying Sir I’d acknowledged that he was in total control, in charge. I’d handed over trust to Travis and would allow him to nurture my pleasure in whatever way he saw fit.