I’m delighted to announce a brand new release. Lily Harlem and I have been busily co-authoring, and this is our first release together – with more to come in the Raw Talent series. It came out yesterday. Grand Slam is a BDSM erotic sports romance, which I realise is a mouthful, but hey ho, that’s what it is! It’s deliberately been released on this date to be out in time for the US Open, as that’s where part of the action is set. The leading man is a world famous tennis player, and the leading woman is his psychologist.
Here’s the blurb:
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.
And an excerpt:
“And has the fracture site been giving you any pain while you’ve been at Los Carlos?”
He cocked his eyebrows. “What has that got to do with my mental state and all this psychobabble of yours?”
God, it was like drawing blood from a stone. I was certainly earning my money here. “Pain affects the body, yes, but also the mind. I’m just wondering if you’re still suffering any twinges.”
“And if you were you’d tell your doctor?”
“Good, because all pain is bad for your psychological health as well as your physical.” I crossed my ankles and tapped my heel on the wooden floor.
He looked at my feet. “Do you really think so?”
“That all pain is bad?”
“Yes, it’s the body’s warning system to let you know something is wrong.”
“Or right,” he said quietly, his lips barely moving, his attention rising from my feet to my face.
“I’m not following you.”
He sat and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbed his hand down his cheek and around his chin; the stubble made a rasping sound against his palm.
“Travis?” I said, closing the notebook and hoping that would send a signal that whatever he wanted to tell me would be off the record. Was he still suffering when he was training? Had he not healed properly? If so that was something we needed to take very seriously.
He stared at me, almost as if he was angry that I’d made him think of something, then stood, walked to the window and surveyed L.A.
I couldn’t help but ogle his cute behind. I knew what his arse looked like naked, but bloody hell, he could fill out a pair of jeans to perfection. His tennis gear looked amazing on him but jeans, especially a pair that suggested he’d spent many an hour lounging in them, were enough to actually make my mouth water.
He placed his hands on his hips, kept his back to me. “Come here, Marie.”
“Why?” I looked at the back of his head, how his dark hair sat like silken fingers on his collar.
“Do as I ask.”
I was about to retort that I’d do no such thing. I was his psychologist and I’d stay in my chair, but something in me wanted to comply with his request. Perhaps it was the way he’d said it, as if I had no choice but to go to him, or maybe it was some kind of magnetism his sexy aura gave off that pulled me in like a fish on a line.
Placing the notebook and pen on the chair, I moved to the window and stood next to him, about a foot away.
“Some people like pain,” he said, still not looking at me.
“Masochists you mean?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
Shit, was he trying to tell me that he enjoyed the pain the accident had left him with? If so, we really needed to discuss this. “That’s not the majority of people though.”
“No, but more than you think. And some people like administering pain.” He turned to me, cocked his head slightly and moved into the space I’d left between us.
I looked into his eyes. Swallowed and tasted his cologne as it traveled into my nostrils and then laced my tongue. “Would you consider them to be good people, Travis? These individuals that like to hurt others.”
“I’ve known a few people who like to give and receive higher sensations and most of them I consider to be good friends as well as good people.”
I hesitated, felt his body heat radiating toward me, wrapping around me as I pondered his words. We were close, very close, and his consuming presence made logical thinking much harder than normal. “I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me.”
“You talk about pain like it’s a bad thing, Marie.”
He smiled but it wasn’t a sweet smile, more like one of a hunter who’d spotted prey.
“Pain is unpleasant for a reason,” I said. “Because it’s bad.”
“I disagree.” He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. It was a challenging, cocky gesture.
A tingle snaked its way up my spine and threatened to wreak havoc in my body by turning into a tremble. But I beat it down. I wouldn’t let a client get to me this way. I was the one supposed to be holding the reins here.
“Maybe, Marie, you should open your mind to new ideas with a little more grace.”
“I fail to see how I haven’t been graceful in discussing your theory that pain is good.”
“Can we keep it that way?”
“I hope so.”
“In that case,” he flicked his attention from my eyes and looked at my hair, “would you like me to demonstrate?”
Damn, the guy made me feel tiny. Even in my heels, his broad chest and wide shoulders were looming over me. “Okay.”
He twitched the right side of his mouth into a half-smile. Now he looked like a hunter who’d captured his prey. A trickle of fight or flight seeped into my system. Which would be my best option?
“Now that’s the first rule.” He reached up and undid the clasp holding my hair on the top of my head. It tumbled around my shoulders as the clasp fell to the floor. “Consent.”
“Doesn’t consent require knowing what you’re agreeing to?” Fuck, with him this close and stroking my hair, spreading it out, I’d pretty much agree to anything. Who was I kidding? Fight or flight was not an option, the only thing that shot through my mind was giving myself over to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted, control my body, feed it what it needed.
Damn, it had been too long since I’d been with a man. It was making me desperate.
He slotted his other hand over the left side of my head, the sound of him sliding his fingers over the shell of my ear noisy. My breath hitched and I locked my knees to stabilize my stance. I stared up at him, noting the small shafts of black hair sneaking out of his skin on his chin and the way his bottom lip was a little plumper than the top.
“You see, some pain,” he said, gathering my hair up at my crown and tugging to create tension on the roots, “can heighten the awareness of everything else going on in the body.”
He pulled harder, forcing my head to tip back.
I gasped as discomfort shot across my scalp.
He increased the pressure a little more.
I reached out and clutched at his shirt, felt his hard chest beneath. “Travis, I—”
“Shh, I’m just showing you.” He slipped his arm around my waist, dragged me close and yanked my hair, really hard.
“Ow, I—” A barrage of sensations blasted through my system. The feel of him pressing up against me, hot hard male, all wide pecs and solid thighs. The pain from having my hair tugged with force, and the awareness that my belly was shoved right up against his groin. A groin that held a wedge of thick flesh.
“Just feel,” he whispered, hovering his lips over mine. “Endorphins are rushing into your bloodstream, giving you a natural high as pain alerts your nerve endings that something exciting is happening.” He slid his free hand up my back, tracing the outline of my spine through my blouse.
I breathed in the air he was breathing out, warm and sweet. The scream of hurt in my scalp made me want to wriggle but being held so firmly and confidently kept me still. The heat of the discomfort slipped down my nape and neck and over my shoulders then combined with the lovely sensation of him stroking my back.
“Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Pain mixing with pleasure, the lines between the two blurring.”
I could feel it with every fiber of my being. My skin was alive with awareness, my breasts were heavy and desperate for stimulation, and between my legs I was buzzing for action. Good, hard man action, preferably of the naked, sweaty variety. “Yes,” I gasped.
He adjusted his hold on my ponytail of hair, the pull stepped up to another level.
“Ouch.” I fisted my hands against his chest. “Travis, please, let me go.”
“If you promise me one thing.”
“Ow, yes, come on.” I squirmed against him. That really did bloody hurt now. “What?”
He shut his eyes, sucked in a breath. Pushed harder into my body as he squeezed me closer.
Even with the distraction of having my hair yanked I could make out his now completely solid erection. “Travis!”
“Just remember what it is your body is crying out for at this moment in time.”
That was the word that jumped into my brain. Flooding my thoughts and blinding me with shock that I could want more pain, more hair-pulling, more heat blasting through my body.
Suddenly he released me and stepped back. I staggered as he turned and left me staring at his shoulders.
I let my hands fall to my sides, pulled in a deep breath and watched as he walked to the window, spread out his palms on the glass and leaned forward.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at his feet.
I straightened my glasses and ran a hand over my disheveled hair, the sting in my scalp receding rapidly. I took a step backward and rested my bum against the desk. My knees were weak and my stomach was still somersaulting. I cleared my throat. “What for?”
“For overstepping the line between client and psychologist.”
“I guess you did.” Hell, yeah.
“But you consented.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t really sure what I was agreeing to.” I struggled to keep the shake from my voice and calm my breathing.
He shook his head, remained focused on his feet.
“Travis, would you like to sit down again?”
“Okay, well, can you turn around so we can talk?”
“Not for a minute or two, no.”
Fuck, so it hadn’t been my imagination. He really had got hard while tugging my hair. What a revelation about my client. He was into hair-pulling and not only that, it seemed administering pain turned him on.
Want more? There’s more info, a trailer and buy links here: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/grand-slam/
Check out the Raw Talent website here: http://rawtalentseries.co.uk
Add Grand Slam to your Goodreads shelves here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18212109-grand-slam
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9