You’ll probably be relieved to note that this post isn’t about dirty underwear. Although I can totally see how that might be confusing given the title up there. Nope, today it’s all about sharing a little of what inspired me for the current book I’m working on, Triple Knockout. For those familiar with The Naughty List and Checking It Twice, this is the 3rd book set in that world. Unlike those two, this one isn’t a Christmas book. But it does feature a wicked hot menage featuring two VERY sexy and dirty boxers who enjoy playing with ropes in and out of the ring. 😉 This book will be coming out the first part of next year from Samhain Publishing, but in the meantime, here’s an insider peek at my naughty inspiration:
Finding the right music to set the stage for my dirty boxers was a pivotal part of the inspiration process. Here are just a couple of songs that ended up in the book soundtrack:
And because my boxers aren’t the only ones who like to get a little dirty, this one is for the heroine:
Last but not least, here’s a little unedited teaser from the book. Enjoy!
Van led the way to the prep station near the ring and instructed Allie to take a seat on one of the stools. Surveying the gear, he chose a short, lightweight wrap that’d work well for her small hands. With anyone else, he’d let them start off the task and lend guidance where and when it was needed, but no way he’d deny himself the pleasure of touching Allie. Especially since it afforded him the opportunity to hide his true motives under the pretense of necessity.
Taking her right hand, he slipped the end loop around her thumb. “It’s going to feel tight around your wrist, but that’s how you want it. Key to a solid punch is keeping your wrist straight and absorbing the impact in your arm. That’s where the sweet spot of your force resides, and it’ll lessen chance of injury.” He finished wrapping her wrist, and after two goes around her knuckles, worked his way back to her thumb. Once he had that vulnerable appendage protected, he finished off the wrap with several more layers of tape cushioning for her wrists and knuckles and secured the Velcro. “Should be snug, but not cutting off circulation.” Unlike my briefs right now. Snuffing a groan at that harsh reality, he inspected his handiwork. “Not bad.”
Allie chafed her taped fist and flashed a megawatt smile. “I already feel ten times more badass than when I walked in.”
“Just wait till you put the gloves on, Killer.”
Fortunately the popularity of Haymaker’s kickboxing classes meant he had a decent supply of female gloves available for those who didn’t want to invest in purchasing their own. He helped her try on a pink pair. Satisfied they’d do the trick, he worked at taping her other hand. A few seconds into it, a shadow fell across him. Glancing up, he met Beau’s guarded gaze.
Awareness shimmered between them. More than that, he swore it extended beyond them, sealing Allie within the boundaries of its potent beam too. Before Van could fully process the oddly tantalizing moment, Beau frowned, effectively breaking the spell.
“What’s going on?”
Allie tossed Beau a toothy smile. “Van’s training me to be the next Allie Ali.”
Concern puckered Beau’s brow. “Think that’s a good idea?”
“Do you say that to the other women who come in here looking to box?” Obstinacy stamped her pretty features.
“No, but you’re not other women, Al.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed. “So help me, if that was an implication of me being a wimp—”
“It wasn’t,” Beau said quickly. “But boxing is an aggressive sport. Sure you’re ready for it?”
Allie lifted to her feet in a lithe stretch. “Oh yeah. I’m definitely ready for it. I can’t wait for Van to work me hard and get me all sweaty.”
Van did a double take—both at her breathy words and the suggestive way she was thrusting out her breasts. One glance at Beau’s face verified that Van wasn’t the only sucker mesmerized by the sight.
Plopping her gloved fists on her hips, she offered a decidedly flirtatious smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll love it so much, I’ll want to go several rounds with you both.”
Beau choked on a cough. Van frowned, suddenly suspicious that he’d missed the punch line on a private joke. “Why do I get the feeling this conversation has nothing to do with boxing?”
Rather than appease his curiosity, Allie smacked her gloved fists together and nodded toward the ring behind them. “Okay, I’m ready to get this party started.”
Equal parts bemused and aroused by her strangely sassy mood, Van shook his head. “You need a few lessons before we take it to that level. I’ll start you off on the heavy bag first so you can get a feel for landing a punch.”
“Ooh, I get to feel your heavy bag? I like the sound of that.”
Holy shit. There was no way she meant that to be dirty. Eighty percent certain of that, he slashed his attention to her face and caught the twitch of her lips.
Dayum. She had been purposefully dirty.
What in the living fuck was going on? He looked toward Beau and received zero help there with deciphering the situation. Rather than wearing a poleaxed expression to compliment the bemusement residing in Van, Beau’s features were frozen in wary fascination.
Van shifted his focus back to Allie. “Heavy bag is, uh, over this way.” He gestured with his arm, despite knowing it was completely unnecessary. Kinda hard to miss, since the bags were directly across from them.
Smiling like she found his obvious dumbassedness cute, Allie strolled in the direction he was pointing to. The bouncy sway of her hips drew him in with the magnetic force of a tractor beam. Even with the shapeless covering of her sweat pants obscuring his view, her ass held the power of stripping his mind of coherent thought. Giving his head a fierce shake, he followed after her. She stopped in front of the speed bag and gave it a whop. When it sprang back toward her face she stumbled backward with an awkward yelp.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m starting you on the heavy bag, sweetheart. Few sets on there, and you’ll work your way up in no time.” Tucking his hand on her elbow, he steered her one row over.
She eyed the punching bag, doubt creeping into her gaze. “It looks heavy.”
He snipped his grin. “Hence its name. Don’t let it intimidate you. You’re in control here. All poor Mick can do is hang there and take your punches.”
“He was the first heavyweight I took on. Mean and ugly sonofabitch. Had way too much fun mopping the floor with my face.” He pointed to the small scar near his left temple. “Got this when he southpawed me into the corner of the ring.”
“Hm, and now you get your revenge by beating on him every day.” Humor danced in Allie’s vivid green eyes. “Twisted, Mitchell.” Her expression softened. “I’m glad he didn’t injure you beyond giving you the scar though.”
Her concern filled him with more pleasure than he cared to admit to. He tried to cover it with some much needed levity. “Guess he was jealous I was prettier than him.”
“Undoubtedly. Now I feel an overwhelming desire to kick Mick’s ass for you.” She returned her scrutiny to the bag and tentatively whapped at it. Apparently satisfied it wasn’t going to rebound on her like the speed bag, she wound up her arm and nailed one in the breadbasket. The unsteady impetus of her punch rocked her back on her heels and she wobbled. Van caught her before she could thud onto her ass.
She offered him an embarrassed grin. “I completely suck at this, don’t I?”
“No, it takes practice. You’ll eventually master it.”
“I bet you didn’t have any problem mastering it.” She bit her lip before staring at his mouth. “Bet you’re a natural at mastering anything.”
The air instantly shifted between them with that singularly provocative statement.
He didn’t know how it was possible, but the Allie looking back at him with a world of longing in her eyes wasn’t the same innocent girl from his youth. She wasn’t even the naughty innuendo queen from moments ago. This Allie was someone infinitely more dangerous to his hard fought control.
She licked her lips, the charged moment stretching endlessly between them. The tip of her right glove grazed the hair on his forearm. Despite the absence of skin on skin contact, his cells buzzed with electricity. The sweet edge of arousal sank its claws deep.
“You like being master, don’t you?”
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it crashed over him with the intensity of a roar.
She knew. Somehow she’d peeled back the layers that masked his true nature. Or someone had ratted him out. That seemed more likely, though he couldn’t think of anyone who’d spill the beans about his Dom side to her. Beau wouldn’t have. And sure as hell not her brother, Eric. Before he could dwell any further on that particular mystery, Allie gnawed on her lip again and peered up at him through her lush lashes. It wasn’t a flirtatious gesture meant to tease.
She was seducing him through her submissiveness.
Son of a bitch. Van dragged in a ragged breath. Difficult as it was tuning out the hot wave of desire pulsing through his blood it was nothing compared to the primal, coarse demands tumbling through his brain, screaming to stake his claim on her.
His fingers flexed painfully before balling into useless fists at his sides. It was either that or put his hands on her. And if he did that, it’d be the death of him. Because no doubt Eric would kill him—and that’d be without the additional knowledge of the dirty, deprived things Van imagined doing to Allie. Those would earn him castration for a side bonus.
“Al…” He paused, attempting to rope his brain into order and reason.
The delicate arch of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “I want you to master me.”
And just like that, she countered with a knockout punch that sent his equilibrium kissing the canvas.