The locker room welcomed me with the smell of freshly washed uniforms and leather workout equipment. The familiar scents tickled my nose and I envisioned my locker room back home. I remembered giving speeches to my team, rallying them against our foes. I felt like a generalsometimes. Here, I just listened. Sure, I liked everyone, but I really wished I could just be myself. I rolled my stiff shoulders and decided that tape wasn’t all I needed—a long hot shower would do my body a world of good. And I didn’t want to let the guards have the satisfaction of getting me out of their hair so soon.I dropped my clothes at the threshold of the locker room and the adjoining shower room. I was never weirded-out by the team showering together. It was what athletes did. When you’re there, making jokes under the steaming water, splashing and commiserating, it was almost better that you were naked. It showed your trust. The team saw you at your most vulnerable. I wanted them to know they could trust me, so, therefore, I let them see my boobs. Common sense. It did kind of make me sad that even though we’d been playing together since September, I couldn’t really call many of them my friends. Except for my roommate, Callie.The weirdest thing was the only person I had met besides Callie that I really felt a connection to was the team’s landlord, whom they had nicknamed the Red Devil. Her real name is Scarlett. I had actually never spoken to her, but something about her drew me in. She was intimidating ashell—tall like us basketball folk, flaming-red curls that hung to her waist, and heels that could kill small animals that skittered into their path. The team hated her strict curfews and neat-freakery. I liked her. Powerful women were cool, and it pissed me off when they were labeled “bitches” just because they knew what they wanted. Plus, I liked that she owned a little new-age shop in town that, rumor has it, has a secret back room. So yeah, Scarlett was cool. Scary, but cool.I made my way across the white tile floor, dodging cold puddles, and cranked my lucky showerhead number thirteen to a scorching blast. Every time I had picked this one, we won, so I never showered anywhere else. Except at home—my real home, that is. I stood under the scalding deluge and tipped my head up to feel the hot spray in my mouth. I had tosinge off the thin layer of failure from last night’s game. I grabbed a loofah and scrubbed my skin to a near polish. Rolling my shoulders, I took a squirt of the lavender-scented shampoo and worked it into my long curls.Sighing, I let my naked back slouch against the cold tiles as I worked my scalp. My ex, Ty, had loved giving me massages. But that was all he wanted, touching. College was supposed to be a fantastic dating scene, but all I ever got were guys who wanted me for the wrong reasons. Boyswho were lazy and easy. Not that I had an ideal guy in mind, but I just wanted to work for it. I wanted the hunt. Lamenting my permanently single status, I watched the last few soap bubbles drop from my hair to the floor. Absentmindedly, I turned and reached for my towel and foundnothing. I glanced around the empty room. Always, without fail, I’d put my towel within arm’s reach of my lucky showerhead. How could I forget that today? I really was off my game on several levels. Padding wetly, dripping like a mermaid, I made my way toward the locker room’s entryway where my clothes sat.Only, my clothes weren’t there either.I took a tentative step into the locker room and turned toward my locker, where at least a practice uniform would be waiting for me. Or maybe I left my clothes there. Get your head together, Thea.Every time I saw that locker, I’d chuckle. My obnoxious Greek last name was too long to fit on the nameplate, or my jersey for that matter, so instead of reading PAPASTATHOPOULOS, it just said PAPAS. That’s why the team had taken to calling me “Pops.”But instead of seeing my truncated name or a pile of clothes, I saw a guy.
Mina Vaughn brings a very new and refreshingly fun approach to the sexual awakening/coming of age plot line. This time around it is all about the girl power. Female lead, Thea, is all about the games, both on and off the court, and with the help of one very willing rocker, in the form of sexy submissive, Keaton Lowe; it looks like this rookie is going to get all the play time she can handle.
How To Reprimand Your Rock Star brings BDSM to the New Adult genre with a fun and flirty, yet very respectful flourish.
Authoress Mina Vaughn gives a special "shout out" to Thea's inner goddess with the well placed mythological references that pepper this wonderful read.
The thing that will have readers clamoring for more of this story however, is just that. The story!
Thea is coming to know herself, as a women, as a basketball player, and as a domme!
She may be young, but she knows what and who she wants...and proves smart enough to get it all.
Keaton is the perfect boy toy!
A man who has it all, and knows how to use everything at his disposal to keep his domme satisfied.
The thing that makes Keaton truly drool-worthy however, is the way that he treats Thea outside of the bedroom. He is there for her. Ready to support her at every turn, but not there to get in the way of her life and it's lessons.
The sex scenes found here are varied enough to always keep one guessing, and add just that right amount of BAD...that is oh so good.
They are balanced enough to please the seasoned sub/dom, without being to much for a curious trainee.
This is a story that you will never want to end.
If this reviewer had her way...there will be a book two!
A girl can beg right?
About this author
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