Grand Slam
by Lucy Felthouse & Lily Harlem
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, which I buried deep. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.