Wrapped Around Your Finger, the third novel in Alison Tyler’s series of semi-autobiographical stories, leads the reader further along Sam’s immersion into her submissive lifestyle.

It takes off from where The Delicious Torment ended, with the promise of a trip to Paris awaiting Sam. The majority of the book takes place over only seven days. Seven days which Jack has mapped out for Sam with a draftsman’s precision, each scenario and encounter planned to the nth degree. Seven days of sex and spankings, seven days of physical pain and emotional torment. Seven days of love.

The love is what stands out for me in Wrapped Around Your Finger. I got it. I understood it, and for the first time EVER in a BDSM book, I could feel the love Jack has for Sam as a thing in itself. In The Delicious Torment the focus for me as a reader was lust, pleasure, and the delight in giving pain. In Wrapped Around Your Finger this has transmuted into a very real love. To me, this was a love story first, and an erotica book second.

No, I’m revising that.

Wrapped Around Your Finger is a psychological thriller first, a love story second, and erotica third.

That’s a strange thing to say about a book that is (deservedly) marketed as erotica and is saturated with sex. This book is solid, wall to wall sex. If you’re wanting an incredibly hot one-handed read, well you’ve got it. But I think you’re missing a lot if that’s all you’re after. The mind fuckery, the knife edge of torment and desire. Alison Tyler dives deep into headspace, into the minutiae of Sam’s relationship with Jack (and Alex), into the self-doubt and wonderment and what-ifs and analysis. That, for me, put this book up there with those heart-palpitating exquisitely agonizing thrillers that you Just. Can’t. Put. Down.

I’m starting to flail. I find it hard to articulate why this book, this series, has such a hold over me. But it does.

Read it.