Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Molly's Teasetastic Tuesday Takeover (Part Two)

Hey everyone! Mia gave herself a much needed day off. So she asked me to takeover her blog for heragain.

Sigh. The things we do for those we love... 

Aw, I'm just messing around. I am super excited to be here. I mean, come on, it's Teasetastic Tuesday. Who doesn't love to be a tease once in a while? Or in my case, more than once in a while.

Bow chicka wow wow. 

Like last time, my unedited tease comes from Torn Between Twins (Tales of the Taken Bridesmaids Book 1). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.


* * * *

“Knock, knock?”
No answer. 
I glance around. The large, open space is desolate. Maya isn’t slaving away in the kitchen while Emery sits at the bar stuffing her face with Cheetos. There are no overgrown apes crowded around the dining room table and the living room couch looks lonely. No music blares from the Bose sound system. No tv plays ESPN in the background. It is freaky quiet.
“Anybody home?”
I laugh. Somebody has to be home.
“I know y’all are here somewhere. It’s like a Walmart parking lot party out front and there are no teenagers in sight.”
Still, no response. Just crickets.
I huff before hauling myself to the stairs and trucking it up to what is affectionately known as the Fuller Floor. It’s as empty as a pint of Ben and Jerry’s during PMS when I get there. “What the fuck is going on?” Turning, I trot back the way I came. “I’m talking to myself. That’sa what’s going on.” 
I head down the stairs. I’m halfway to the bottom when I notice—“Logan!” In my surprise, my foot misses the last couple of steps. I lurch and stumble. Logan rushes forward. He snags me before I make a total ass of my klutzy self. 
“Aw, you fell for me,” Logan jokes. His cheese factor catches me off guard again. I half giggle, half snort, which sends Logan into a fit of laughter. “That was pretty lame. Wasn’t it?” he asks.
“You have no idea, Lo.” 
The intrusion of Derek’s voice is the bitchslap to end all bitchslaps. Lost for words, I whip my head toward Derek. He grins. “Hi, baby.”
My gaze leaves Derek and darts to his twin. “Hey.” Logan winks. “Miss me, Riles?”
Déjà vu takes me away faster than a bottle of Calgon and a fifth of Jack. Every dream I’ve had in the past four days ended with “Miss me, Riles?” 
I want to sink to the floor and scream, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I don’t. Instead, I extricate myself from Logan and back away…from both of them.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Kinky Contracts

She was the one with boundary lines like fortresses. She was the one who padded their contract with sexual barricades. And she was the one who’d restricted their relationship to the point that she’d tied them both up in its strings. Not him. But the mere thought of his cock being inside somebody else—man or woman—had been a poison in her gut, a bitter pill tainting her mouth. She’d never asked because she couldn’t bear his answer.
~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Kinky Walls Are Falling Down...

Precious on Thane’s lying lips shattered the wall Sebastian had built up. But it was his accompanying look of censure that sent every brick to the ground.
~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Friday, March 27, 2015

Kinky History Lessons

Delancey had been in the lifestyle since Thane and Bast introduced her to BDSM in her early twenties. Before that, she’d lived in Serenity, went to school in Trinity, and played in Kinky. A girl could hardly maintain her virginal sensibilities in that sexually debauched trifecta of Kansas towns. And then, there was her time in Luscious. She’d partied there like it was a nudist camp in 1969…more than once. 
~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Thursday, March 26, 2015

A Kinky Bedtime Story...

Delancey didn’t need to know any more than that. He’d left. That was the beginning of the goddamn story and the end of it.
~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Teasetastic Tuesday: A Long, Cold, Kinky Blizzard

Looking at Sebastian was like being locked out of her house during a blizzard—cold, bleak, and lonely. His eyes were shrouds of darkness, his face as lifeless as a corpse. No spark, no emotion, just…dead. 
“Put me down.”
Wyatt hesitated.
Now.” Delancey had never spoken to Wyatt quite like she did at that moment, which is probably why he sighed and set her on her feet. 
“You have thirty seconds,” he said. “Then I’m getting you out of here—whether you, Thane, or Sebastian like it or not. You are my priority. No one else.”
Delancey would have gagged but she’d already turned away. “Bastian?”
Sebastian bore a hole through her. It was as if he saw her but didn’t see her. “What?” His voice was sharp as a dagger but cut like a knife. It sliced through her middle, clean and swift.
“I’m going to go with Wyatt.” For your sake, not mine. Delancey half hoped Sebastian would ask her to stay. A part of her bled when he didn't. “I need to know you’re going to be okay.”
Thane cursed loud enough to be heard, but it was Sebastian’s relapse into silence that deafened her. 
Sebastian’s face remained utterly devoid of life. “I’ll be better when you’re gone.”
Where Delancey's stomach had been slit before, it was now a jagged wound. The blood her heart had wept escalated to a river of crimson tears.

~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)
Please Be Gentle...This tease is unedited.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Leashing The Kinky Beast...

The Dom flew hard. He played hard. And when things went to shit, he fucked hard. It was the way he regained control. It was how he leashed the beast.
~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Kinky Doms Get Sent To The Principal's Office, Too

“If you’re going to take me to the principal’s office, tie me to a chair, and spank me with a ruler, could you get to it? I have shit to do.”
~Thane Sorenson
In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

* * * *

For another Line of the Day, check out Molly Grayson's at Southern Girls Do It Sexier.

Friday, March 20, 2015

All is Fair In Love, Lust, And Kinky Warfare

“Normal people lash out. They do stupid shit and say stupid shit and act like real assholes. But you? You set fire to shitstorms. You take unexploded ordnances and blitzkrieg the hell out of them. You get pissed, and the world has to worry about yet another weapon of mass destruction.”
-Wyatt Thorpe
 In Love, There was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

~ ~ ~

*For another Line of the Day, check out Molly Grayson's at Southern Girls Do It Sexier*

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Kinky Conjugal Visits

Delancey preferred to not see her Dom go to prison. She didn’t think they’d condone conjugal visits involving whips and floggers. Though, they did have the chains and handcuffs covered.
~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas Book 2)

*For another Line of the Day, check out Molly Grayson's at Southern Girls Do It Sexier*

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Teasetastic Tuesday Takeover

Hello 69ers! I'm Molly, and I might have killed Mia. A girl has to do what a girl has to dowhen she wants to takeover Teasetastic Tuesday. Right? 

Wrong. I didn't kill Mia. Seriously. I'm a lover, not a fighter. And Mia is easy...to bribe. So she's off somewhere eating Ben & Jerry's while I do my thing on her blog.

Now, you may be scratching your head (or other things) and wondering, Who the heck is Molly Grayson? Well, the simplest answer is: I'm a writer of smut. 

Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, I mean no offense by using the word smut. In fact, smut is a term of endearment for me. Strange, I know. But it reminds me of a person I loved and lost. Growing up, my aunt and I bonded over our love of reading. We started out with kiddy stuff like the Little Golden Books and as I aged, we shifted to more "grown up" things like Double Standards by Judith McNaught. My mother, who wasn't much of a reader, used to tease us incessantly about our smut. Now, my beloved aunt is gone, and my mother still teases me. So when I say I write smut or I read smut, it truly means something to me.

Alas, I am getting off topic, which I often do. And I apologize in advance for that.

Again, I am a writer of smut. I currently have no published books. But I am working on a trilogy entitled: Tales of the Taken Bridesmaids. The first story, Torn Between Twins, is not quite finished. Though, it is not too far off. That's why I am hereto share an unedited "tease" of my work-in-progress. I hope y'all don't mind but as Mia would say, "Someone's cherry is getting popped tonight!"

~Molly Grayson

I'm a good southern girl. I drink sweet tea, bake pecan pie, fry batches of chicken, put butter in everything, and eat gravy on my biscuits. I say things like "Bless your heart," "God love you," "Well, pardon my french," and "Y'all ain't right." My mama still scares the daylights out of me and my manners are impeccable. I smile and wave to my neighbors, and I catch lightning bugs in mason jars. I love like crazy, kill people with kindness, and count my blessing. And on occasion, I do shop with a buggy.

But as good as I am good, I am bad. I write saucy, sultry, smutty stories with sassy ladies and men who share. My mind is dirty. My mouth is sinful. And everyone who knows me say they wouldn't have me any other way.

Email: mollygraysonauthor@gmail.com
Twitter Handle: @MollyEGrayson

* * * * 

I sigh as I lounge on the bench seat at the back of Derek Fuller’s boat. My head reclined, arms behind my neck and legs straight out in front of me, I stare up at the cloudless sky. The mid-day sun is hot on my face and every other inch of skin my black bathing suit doesn’t cover. Still, I feel more relaxed, more alive, more everything than I ever have in my life.
A second sigh, this one more content than the last, slips past my lips as my head lifts. I stretch languorously, my body moving and extending like a woman whose just been fucked within an inch of her life. Only I haven’t been fucked all damned day. Derek is—and has been—too busy navigating his Four Winns bowrider across the muddy waters of Watts Bar Lake to give my body the attention it craves. 
And boy, does it crave. 
Not to worry, though. Derek will get on the stick soon. The man just can’t keep his hands, feet, or any other part of his body off me for long. And once anything of his touches anything of mine, both of us go off faster than a bundle of firecrackers to an open flame. Until then, I’ll have to be patient—which I rarely, if ever, am—and simply enjoy our time together. 
Not that spending time with Derek is a hardship, especially on days like this. It’s all sunshine and sweet, sweet summertime in East Tennessee. Sure, it’s August. So it’s hotter than blue blazes. But the humidity reminds me of dirt and sweat and gritty, filthy sex. And let’s all face it, that’s exactly how I like it…with Derek.
Speaking of Derek, my gaze goes to him like a moth drawn to a porch light. The handsome devil is sitting in the captain’s chair, one large hand resting on the throttle while the other is curling around the wheel. Titanium eyes, alive and carefree, are looking somewhere off in the distance as beautiful brown hair blows casually in the breeze. 
I ogle him openly, shamelessly. He seems to sense my attention and shoots a glance my way. The smile he blesses me with would have charmed the pants right off me, if I’d actually been wearing them. 
“Time to drop anchor,” he says.
I think I mumble, “Okay.” Though, I’m not positive because his big, buff chest is delectably bare, and the sight is frying my brain faster than the okra my mama—may she rest in peace—scorched at her last Sunday Dinner.
“Stupid naked chests,” I mutter.
 Derek grins as he cuts the engine. “What was that, baby?”
My eyes slide away. I’m not touching that question with a ten foot pole. “Nothing.”
Nervously, I reach for sunblock. While I squirt the lotion in my hand, lather it between my palms, and coat my skin, Derek works with the anchor. By the time I’m done, my body glistens and he’s casting the anchor off the side of the boat. “There,” he says. Then he turns…to me. 
The wicked glint in his eyes has my breath catching, my hands sweating. Holy crap on a cheese cracker. That look should be illegal.“Get. Naked. Riley.” His demand is soft but deadly serious. I love the way the command sounds on his lips, all gruff and gravelly, and I find myself fascinated by how my name leaves his mouth with the reverence of a prayer. 
That voice, those words, his eyes, and the look—fuck me naked and steal my clothes, the look. It’s too much hotness all at once and a fire begins to burn inside me. The blaze is born in my veins. It bubbles my blood. But blood turns to lava and lava streaks through veins until all I know, all I feel, is the inferno that used to be my body.
Dear God in Heaven or Satan in Hell, does this man have a clue what he’s doing to me?
One glance, that’s all it takes to answer my question. Derek is not only aware of what he’s doing but he’s also relishing every second of my torment. It’s in the smug smile he doesn’t conceal and the way his stunning body strains toward mine.
“I…” My words dry in my throat. All the moisture in my body goes to my pussy and pools there. I shy away from the slickness and shift to evade the ache growing in my womb.
Derek’s eyes smolder as they drop to my chest. His stare penetrates my one piece, going straight through the bathing suit as though I’m wearing nothing at all. My nipples feel exposed. They tingle. They tighten. They need touched, need kissed. They need him. 
Derek’s intent gaze slides lower, gliding over me as intimately as a caress. I shiver. He continues his descent, and I squirm. When he reaches my lap, he grins that charmingly boyish grin I adore, and my heart clenches. “See, baby. You need to lose the suit. You’re getting it all wet.”
As though it’ll hide my response from him, I snap my legs closed and squeeze my thighs together. This seems to amuse Derek, who chuckles. And again, I gulp. Frantic, I glance around, searching for a nearby boat, praying one isn’t there.
“No one can see us, Ry.” Derek strides toward me. I watch him, rapt with desire. His swim trunks ride deliciously low, drawing attention to the defined muscles of his hips, and I hope against hope that the damned things will fall off already. “I wouldn’t want anyone to see what’s mine. And Camden Riley Evans, you. Are. Mine.”
My heart flies fast and furious at Derek’s fierce announcement, for I know I am his. Truly.
“I wouldn’t do that to you either. I know how you feel about spectators.”
I exhale. With relief or regret, I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know, all I care about, is this man. I want him. I want to please him, to touch him, to kiss him, to love him. And yes, by God, I want to fuck him.
“Now, lose the suit. And don’t make me tell you again.”
Breathe. I have to breathe.
Unsteadily, I rise. With one last check for voyeurs, I offer him a hesitant smile then lift my arms. I reach behind my neck and loosen the ties holding my bathing suit in place.“Like this?” I ask as I release both ties at the same time, letting them fall forward and dangle down the front of my body.
Derek licks his lips and shakes his head. “More.”
A throaty chuckle comes from some unknown place inside of me. “How about this?” I go for the bustline, snaking two fingers beneath it. “Is this better?”
No answer. Just piercing gray eyes worshipping me, worshipping my body.
I slither my swimsuit down until I’m bare from the waist up. “Or this?”
Another lick of Derek’s lips. “More.”
I exhale in a rush, pushing out all my nerves with the air. Then with my pulse pounding, I shimmy the material down my hips until its a hairbreadth from fully exposing my pussy. “Now?”
Derek’s eyes flare. His body tautens. His tension is palpable, so visible I feel as though I can reach out and touch it. “Riley…” The warning in his tone hits home. I take it to heart and shove my suit to the ground then step out of it.
“Good girl,” he croons. His approval is as clear as glass, and it wraps around me tighter than a lock. Proudly, I smile.
“Come here,” he orders then softens his command by confessing, “I want to hold you.”
What kind of girl would I be to turn him down?
Panting, I prowl toward Derek, infusing each footstep with a sensuality only he and one other arouses within me. As I move, my hips sway. My breasts jiggle. Yet I don’t feel the least bit self-conscious. His adoring eyes are too open, too honest, too damned scorching for me to doubt his want of me or my less than perfect physique. In fact, his desire is so blatant, so deep and intense, that I can’t deny it. And my courage is bolstered.
I flash Derek a suggestive smile. Then I lift one hand and slowly slither the ponytail holder out of my hair. The rubber band drops to the boat’s floor, already forgotten, and I shake my head seductively. Waist-length, wild as the wind tresses swing free. They flow around me in a whirlwind of honey brown locks.
Derek groans. He reaches for me and grabs me by the waist. Then he hauls me flush against him. As our bodies collide, his steely shaft confined in swim trunks meets my pussy, and a moan whispers across my lips. After that, breathing is a battle because his killer abs and my fleshy torso are packed too tight. His rock hard pecs and my heavy breasts are crushed too close. Even his stiff nipples are at war with my tingling ones and our legs are a turbulent tangle of limbs. 
“Derek,” I sigh as his hands lower to my hips and anchor themselves to my skin. His hold is impenetrable, his touch masterful, and I never want it to stop. He has me. All of me. 
Derek drops his head forward. His nose finds a home in the curve of my neck. I hear him mumble something unintelligible, and I have to know what he’s saying, what he’s thinking but most of all, what he’s feeling. 
“Hmm?” I glide my hands up his arms, slow and deliberate, my touch light and teasing. When I reach his shoulders, I pass them up and keep going until I wrap my arms around his thick, corded neck. “What’d you say?”
Derek doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he nuzzles my neck, his breath hot and so very, very humid. I moan again, this time louder and more wantonly. My hips start to move. Of their own volition, they pump and grind my pussy against the bulge in his trunks.
Derek chuckles. His husky laugh vibrates through my flesh. He tightens his grip, hindering my movements but not stopping them altogether. “Like that, do you?”
“Mmmm.” He has no idea.
“How about this?” He gifts my skin with the smallest, sweetest, most unsatisfying kiss of its life.
“More,” I beg as my lower body continues its fight to gain purchase between his crotch and mine. “Please,” I add.
“I don’t know…”
“I know.” God Almighty, I know.
I cock my head to the side, granting him better access to my neck. I pray he takes the hint. He doesn’t. He smiles. I feel it, an entity on my overheated skin. “My, my, you’re getting awfully demanding, Ry.”
“Demanding? You haven’t seen demanding. Yet.” 
I go up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. Derek doesn’t give me the upper hand. He instantly takes over. His lips, so soft, pry mine open. His tongue, so skilled, delves between them. And he sweeps into my mouth, all dominance and possession, his kiss claiming me as surely as if he’s branded a stamp of ownership onto my very soul. 
I shiver. From what, I am not sure. It could be the way he is kissing me—as though I’m the beginning and the end—or it could be the animalistic sounds erupting from his chest. It could even be his hands leaving my hips and landing possessively on my bottom. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters because he is cupping one cheek and then swatting the other.
His mouth swallows my surprise. Then for the second time, he brings down his disturbingly—yet somehow delightfully—adept hand on the curve of my ass. This smack is swift and substantial, so much so that it cracks against my skin. And again, he swats my bottom. This time though, his fingers are further apart, the tips closer to the crevice.
Suddenly unsure, I attempt to wriggle away. But Derek doesn’t have that. His lips firm. His kiss deepens. His hold strengthens. He doesn’t give me an inch. There’s no stopping him, no saving me. He spreads my ass cheeks apart and opens me wide. I gasp into his mouth as a small gust of wind blows across my back entrance. A flush steals across my face. I freeze.
I’ve never….
I don’t want…
Do I?
Oh fucking shit. I do.
Instantly, I stop moving and melt into Derek as easily as sugar into a pitcher of fresh brewed tea. I dig my fingers into his solid shoulders, using my hold to keep myself upright. He groans and breaks our kiss. Staring down into my eyes, he murmurs in his smoother than Jack Daniel’s Number 7 voice, “Riley, I’m going to take that hole. I’m going to fuck it. Hard and fast. And you’re going to love it.”
My breath stalls. I have no doubt he’s right. He will fuck my ass. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And I will love it. Why? Because I love him.
Derek’s fingers drift inward. “You’re going to scream my name…over and over…and over again.” He punctuates each of his promises with a peck to my lips.
Hypnotized, I nod, saying nothing.
“When I’m done with you, you won’t talk for a week.”
Barely able to breathe, I’m incapable of speech. I feel disconnected but somehow manage to shake my head.
“You might not sit for a while, either. But it’ll be worth it.”
“Very worth it,” I croak as Derek’s fingers get closer. So much closer. C’mon. Almost there. And then, out of nowhere, Derek’s hands stop. Another set joins them on my body. Another pair of lips find my skin. Surprise ripples through me. 
Gasping, I whip my head around. There, standing behind me, is Logan Fuller. Derek’s mirror-image is grinning, his smile so sinister I have the urge to drop to my knees and pray for his fallen soul. “Miss me, Riles?” he asks, and I realize in that second, I did.

Monday, March 16, 2015

A Superhero, His Sidekick, and Their Archrival Walk Into a Kinky Bar?

Oh yeah, Delancey loved Ansley—about as much as Batman loved The Joker. But for some stupid reason, her Robin wanted to do the dirty with the enemy. So she sucked it up and took one for the team.

~In Love, There Was You (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas Book 2)

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Talk Kinky to Me...

Thane closed his eyes and let Delancey’s low, dusky voice wash over him. It was the little things that dulled with time—the sultry sound of sin in her tone, that rich as wine resonance and dark as chocolate timbre. Even the rhythm, the slower than honey cadence, had faded. Day by day, he’d lost it, all of it, until he could barely recall how she’d sounded when she said his name. 

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Friday, March 13, 2015

What's A Kinky Club Like?

“…not in a club like ours.”
“A club where we flog subs as often as we fuck them. Where rough sex leaves bruises and being tied up is a literal thing.”

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Kinky Woman Scorned

Ansley’s lips curled into a smile that would’ve stripped the gothic makeup off Marilyn Manson’s face. “Let’s just say, I don’t like feeling territorial. It makes me…upset.”

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas Book 2)

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Teasetastic Tuesday: Kinky Boys vs. Kinky Girls

It's that time again...time for Teasetastic Tuesday! So here's a little tease (unedited, of course) from my current WIP. I hope you enjoy.


* * * *

“Why do all you Kinky boys think you can talk to a girl like that?”

“Because we can.” Thane didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Delancey shoved Bast so hard he stumbled back. “See, Kinky boys know what kinky girls need, even when they don’t.”

Delancey’s face went as red as Thane’s body was blue. “I guess it’s good I’m a Serenity girl, not a Kinky one then.”

Thane snorted. “Precious, you don’t have to be born in Kinky to be kinky. You don’t even have to live in Kinky. Some girls are just hard wired that way.”

Delancey lurched off the counter and came at Thane. When she got an eyeful of him, she stopped short, and Thane grinned. He’d thrown her off-kilter. Good.

“You’re naked.”

Bast chuckled. “She doesn’t miss much, does she?”

“No, she doesn’t.” But neither did Thane. He saw nipples puckering behind nylon and goosebumps chasing along bronzed skin. Respirations were speeding, eyes dilating. Black pupils eclipsed silver irises, and she licked her lips. Slow, so slow, her tongue dragged across the gateway to her mouth. And fast, so fast, his blood pumped from his heart to his head straight to his balls.

Delancey growled. She actually fucking growled, and it was pretty damn adorable. Not that he’d tell her that. “Well, some Kinky boys have more dick than brains.”

“Only some?” 

Thane laughed. 

Delancey didn’t.

“I think she meant that as an insult, Bast.”

“I’m sure she did.”

“You two make me nuts!”

“Did you hear that, Bast? We make her nuts.”

“Well, she made us blue…. So I guess we’re even. Right?”


“No!” Delancey hands fisted at her waist, and she wore self-righteous indignation like a bad 80s prom dress. “It doesn’t make us even. You two tricked me. You lied to me. You made me believe…things.”

Delancey’s accusations were a kick to the nuts. “How exactly is it we tricked you?” He prowled toward her as though he were a lion and she a lamb. “How did we lie? What ‘things’ did we make you believe?” 

Even as he spoke, Thane’s chest felt as hollow as a tomb, his head a raging riot of memories. Why would she think they’d trick her, that they’d lied to her? They’d done nothing but chase after her since she’d moved back to Serenity, Kansas and enrolled at Trinity High. Lost puppies were less obvious—and obnoxious—than they were with her.

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Monday, March 9, 2015

Friends Without Filters (aka Crazy Kinky Love)

“That bitch is straight up crazy.” Kendall laughed. “At least, with you, I only have to deal with half crazy and a serious side of psycho.”

~Kendall Bales, Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

(Because I'm a music junkie, I couldn't resist.)

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Gasp! Has Kinky Gone Vanilla?

“You’re right. There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, some people love vanilla—vanilla frosting, vanilla custard, vanilla ice cream, vanilla dicks, whatever.” He flicked his wrist dismissively. “Vanilla, vanilla, vanilla. But the problem herein is that some things should remain vanilla, even when we don’t want them to be.”

~Hale Mathis, Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas Book 2)

Thursday, March 5, 2015

A Kinky Fire Can Never Be Extinguished...

At Hale’s bald words, a heavy onslaught of images flayed Bast. Memories burned in him and through him until he could barely breathe for the fire. That was how it always was between him and Delancey. One minute, the world was as he knew it. The next, it was ablaze and burning to the ground. He was helpless to the inferno. And even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t fight it. He’d let the blaze rage on until nothing was left of him but her and his ashes in her hands.

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Shhh! Don't Speak...

Give the man a whip and someone to wield it upon and he had the patience of Job. But ask him to talk? He’d duck and run faster than a sub could utter their safe word. 

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Fine is a Subjective Thing

“In your position, most people wouldn’t be fine. 
They’d be shitting big, fat, double-ended dildos.”

~Thane Sorenson, Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, KS 2) 

Monday, March 2, 2015

Could Kinky Get Any Bluer?

Why yes, it could.
And it did.

That was when Thane saw it. Bast’s mouth was…
Blue. Not a little blue. A lot blue. And it wasn’t a light blue or even a dark blue. Not Smurf blue, blueberry blue, or blue balls blue. It was Cookie Monster came in his mouth blue, blue-fucking-blue.

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas Book 2)

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Reality Rides a Dark Horse in Kinky

Thane should have remembered that before the bitch that was reality rode in on her dark horse and bit the fuck out of his ass and did a real number on his dick. 

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas Book 2)