They say Callum Jackson's a savage. No home. No prospects. No self-restraint. He's red-flagged on my system, a grade-1 aggression risk, totally off limits for a woman like me. But the rules don't allow for my dangerous games; they don't bend for my twisted desires. Callum Jackson is the most beautiful beast. A beast I can't stop thinking about, can't stop wanting, can't stop hunting... ...I just pray to God this beast bites. Sophia Harding runs a tight ship. She may work in the dregs of housing association slums, but her patch is on the way up. Anti-social behaviour is down, employment is on the rise, and she's even been shortlisted for estate manager of the year. It's looking good. Really good. Until Callum Jackson completes his jail time and lands right back on her doorstep. She could do without a guy like him on her books: a failure of the system and a pain in the fucking ass. She should tick the boxes, do her job and keep her distance - that's what the handbook says. The handbook says no one-on-one contact, no at-risk situations, no direct confrontation of any kind. But the handbook doesn't know of her craving for hardcore submission. The handbook has no fucking idea how she yearns to unleash Jackson at club Explicit, where his savage can really run wild. The handbook doesn't know shit...
