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)

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*

Teasetastic Tuesday Takeover

Hello 69ers! I'm Molly, and I might have killed Mia. A girl has to do what a girl has to do—when 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 here—to 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!"

Kisses,

~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

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/molly.grayson.90

Twitter Handle: @MollyEGrayson

Twitter Link: https://twitter.com/MollyEGrayson

Blog (Will Launch Soon): http://www.southerngirlsdoitsexier.blogspot.com

* * * * 

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.

“Eep!”

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…

Wait. 

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.

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)

What's A Kinky Club Like?

“…not in a club like ours.”

“Meaning?”

“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)

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)

Tease-tastic Tuesday Has Gone Kinky and Moved To Thursday!

A promise is a promise  Here is the other half of Delancey Sorenson's (unedited) Prologue.  

Kisses,
-Mia

p.s. For those who missed the first half, check it out at http://www.ivegot69problems.blogspot.com/2015/02/tease-tastic-tuesday-has-gone-kinky.html

* * * *

A victorious smile found Delancey’s lips at the sight of Thane’s thinking face. The fact that he was weighing his options and calculating the risks, instead of acting on instinct, was a good sign. She was winning the war. “See, I think you can’t do it.” 

With Thane’s vision cut off, he was at a disadvantage. Delancey exploited that weakness by kicking off her ballet flats and starting for him while starting in on him again. “I think you can’t kiss her. I think you can’t kiss anybody, except me.” To some, she would sound arrogant. But to anyone who knew her and Thane, they would recognize her words for what they were—the stone cold truth. 

   “I might wear your ring on my finger and your collar around my neck. But you wear me where it counts.” To drive her words home, Delancey touched the pulse point at the base of Thane’s neck. She smiled softly at the feel of life sustaining blood being pumped through his veins. “Here,” she said on a whisper then slid the tip of her nail halfway down his bare chest and to her right. She tapped the exact spot where his heart resided beneath all those layers of skin. “And here.”

Thane’s eyes remained closed. His lips stayed smooth and even. Only the tightening of the corners indicated she was getting to him.

Delancey lifted a surprisingly steady hand to the side of Thane’s head. “And here.” She caressed his temple in a small, slow, circular pattern—just like he liked it. “In the mind that fascinates me so.”

Thane’s jaw flexed, and she cupped his cheek. “Don’t deny what we both know…what we all know.” She brushed her lips along his silent ones. “That I am yours, and you are mine.”

“Delancey…”

Delancey didn’t heed the warning in Thane’s tone. But she did step into him, sighing his name when the heat his body exuded melted her from the outside in. “Thane.” She guided her hands, both of them, from his washboard abs to the waistband of his low-slung leathers. There, she paused to sigh his name a second time, “Thane.” 

Slowly, as though he were drugged, Thane’s lids lifted. His pale eyes captured hers, penetrating and at the same time riveting her. He didn’t speak, not a word. He simply struck. Faster than lightning, more reckless than a storm, he hauled her against him, drawing her to him until her body was flush with his, every inch of her touching every glorious inch of him. Even pissed, having Thane this close, feeling his warm breath on her face, made Delancey want to crawl inside of him, made her want to get lost in him and never come out. 

Thane growled, grabbing the hair she’d pulled back in a ponytail and wrapping it around his knuckles. He tugged mercilessly and without his usual restrain. The fiery burn his uncompromising clench ripped a guttural moan from Delancey, and she shuddered.

“You’re damn straight, precious girl,” Thane whispered, his stunningly beautiful mouth hovering just above hers. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. Always have, always will.” 

Delancey finally allowed herself to breathe, and her lungs thanked her.

“But I fear one day…

Unease prickled along Delancey’s scalp as she waited for Thane to continue. The foreboding sensation fused with the heat from his hold. Together, they crawled down her neck and spine. She shivered and inexplicably some instinct inside her screamed. Whatever he was about to say would change her, would change them, would change everything. She didn’t know how she knew that. She only knew that Thane feared nothing. 

Except… 

Air left Delancey once again. Thane did fear—for one thing. For her. Her safety, her sanity, and everything in between was everything to him. His weakness, it was her. She was what could bring him to his knees. 

If something happened… 

It didn’t even bear thinking about. The Thane she knew would cease to exist without her, just as she would, if it were him.

“One day soon, you will pay for loving me. One day, you will suffer for being mine.”

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

All Is Fair In Love and Kinky Friendships...

“Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late.”

Delancey snorted at Kendall’s deadpan White Rabbit imitation. “If you’re late, we should probably get you a test from the drug store.”

Belle made a choking noise that echoed through the domed tunnel. Even the faux vines chasing along the mud-brown walls didn’t catch the strangled sound in their clutches.

“If I’m late, you both know, my ass is grass.”

“If that grass is on fire, maybe,” Delancey retorted.

Belle busted out laughing. “Why am I suddenly picturing big, bad Bryce dressed as a big, bad fireman and our girl here writhing on the grass at his feet?”

Kendall purred. “Because my Dom has one huge hose.”

“All the better to spray you with, my dear.” And with that, Delancey lost it. 

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

Possession is Nine-Tenths of the Law, Even in Kinky

“My club,” Hale said.

“Adam and Deke’s club,” Delancey corrected. 

“My sub,” Sebastian said.

“My wife.”

Delancey tightened the belt on her robe. “Why don’t we all pretend to be dogs and mark our fucking territory?”

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

Back To My Kinky Ways...

For a woman wearing a pink lace corset, black satin boy shorts, and thigh high stockings topped with two tiny bows, she had some big, fucking balls.

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

A Kinky Man Makes My Monday...

Hair the color of a raven and obsidian eyes that ran deeper than a bottomless pit, Hale could put the fear of God in a person with nothing more than an icy stare. He turned that stare on Thane. But after being away from Delancey, Thane didn’t fear the darkness, and he was immune to the ice.

Monday's Kink-a-Licious Moment...

Sebastian clamped his mouth shut with jaws of steel. He wouldn’t be manipulated by her, and he wouldn’t be her punching bag. He’d take anything else she could dish out but not those two things, never those two things, especially not in this courtroom, at this very moment, with Thane here to witness her blatant disrespect. He simply wouldn’t do it.

Dr. Seuss and Tate Dawson Come Together for This Teasetastic Tuesday!

“I will get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too.” 

If it was the last thing he did, Tate would see to it that Evan got his. He wouldn’t be nice about it, either. No siree, Tate was a dirty fighter with a bloodthirsty streak a mile wide. A nightstick up the ass or stun gun to the nuts wouldn’t satisfy him. No, he’d go for Evan’s jugular. That wasn’t some fru-fru dog named Toto. It was Vita, his precious Vitamix blender. And as far as Tate was concerned, Vita wasn’t the only one on a trip to Fuckedupsville. Sam was going along for the ride. He just didn't know it yet.

“Oh, Sam-I-Am!”

Sam made his way toward the back of the car. Smart enough to not open door, he ducked his head and stared at Tate through the window. “Yes, Baby Face Dawson?”

“I would not fuck you.”

Sam shrugged, grinning. “My fuck card is plenty full, Tatey-boy.”

“I would not fuck you, Sam-I-Am,” Tate repeated, his jaw like stone, his teeth packed tight. “Not in the hall or against the wall. Not in your car or beneath the stars. Not in a club or in the tub. Not here or there. I would not fuck you anywhere.” He, however, would kill him…with a rope or poisoned soap, with a pill or with a drill, with a claw or with a saw. He’d kill him here. He’d kill him there. He’d kill him pretty much everywhere.

Monday's Kink-tastic Moment...

“If believing you hate me will help you sleep tonight, feel free.”

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

Saturday's Sensual Six a la Kinky...

Delancey’s eyes flew to his, and she forgot everything. The past, the present, the future, it all ceased to exist. It was just her and Thane’s eyes. His pale, green, piercing eyes. They were eyes that could cut through glass, and she knew from experience that they would cut through a person. Only the sharp edge of his tongue could cause more grievous harm than those eyes, the eyes focused on her. 

~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)

 

Tease-Tastic Tuesday

Happy Tease-Tastic Tuesday! I'm doing things a little different today. I'm actually posting two unedited snippets on TWO different blogs. Yes, that means you're going to get a glimpse of the first book in my newest series The Shifters of Trinity, Kansas here. And you'll also get a peek of the fifth book in my Sweet Serenity series at When One is Not Enough!

So without further ado, here's a taste of Ace and MacKenzie from my first ever paranormal menage, Pacts and Promises.

* * * *

“I was so glad you called,” Ace murmured in Kenzie’s ear as he placed a possessive hand on the small of her back and guided her across the wood planked porch. He smiled when she shivered, loving how she was as helpless to him as he was to her. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while, but…”

“But what?” Kenzie blinked her gorgeous eyes up at him. Even with the moon barely glittering overhead, he couldn’t miss the curiosity glimmering in the granite depths. “You thought I had cooties or something?”

Amused, a smile tilted his lips. “Of course not,” he replied while helping her down the steep steps like the gentleman he wasn’t but had been schooled by Henry to be. “I know you have cooties. You’ve been spending all your time with that flea infested pussy of yours.”

Kenzie scowled, her displeased glare more endearing than intimidating. “You take that back, Ace Monroe Gallagher! Only I get to call Emmett a pussy. To you, he's a fe-lion.”

Ace shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.” A heartbeat later, a soft slapping sound rang out, and it took a minute for Ace to realize that he’d been gently smacked in the chest by the she-wolf of his dreams. And fantasies. But rather than be angry, he came to a sudden halt a few feet away from the porch steps. Then turning to her, he chuckled. “Now I know I won’t.”

Her scowl morphed into a ferocious glower as she stepped away from his touch. She balled her fists on her voluptuous hips, which was a mistake on her part because her defiant gesture only drew his attention to the generous curve and distracted him. “Yes, you will. Or I’ll—”

Ace lifted his gaze from his mate’s hips, slowly and appreciatively, to the tempting dip at her waist then drifted up and over her lush breasts to her face. He arched an eyebrow at her then asked, “You’ll what?”

Kenzie went silent, nibbling her succulent lower lip. As he watched, a variety of expressions danced across her charming ‘thinking’ face. This should be good, he decided. Almost as good as she looks tonight. And damn, the woman looked un-fucking-believable. Not that she didn’t always look like perfection personified. But there was something different about her tonight. It could have been how her too red to be chestnut, too brown to be auburn hair fell around her shoulders, framing her pretty face, rather than being pulled back in her trademark ponytail. Or it could have been that her faded jeans were nowhere in sight, and she’d wrapped her statuesque self in a daring purple dress that revealed as much as it covered. It could have even been that she’d replaced her sneakers with high heels that made her already long legs look like a stunning supermodel’s. Or hell, it could have been the exotic jungle green she’d applied to her eyelids and the dewy pink blush she’d brushed onto the apples of her cheeks. But personally, he thought it was the way she talked and walked—like a wolf bent on seducing her mate, which according to Emmett, she was. Thank the gods.

Kenzie finally released her lip before a brilliant smile curved her mouth upward. “I’m not telling you, wolfie, because then you’ll see me coming and run the other way.”

Ace choked back his mushy response, saying, “I doubt that, Kenz,” rather than “I always see you coming, and I would never run away.” A wolf had his pride, after all.

“Speaking of running away…” Kenzie cocked her head to the side. “Where are your sidekicks?”

* * * *

I hope you enjoyed my teeny, tiny tease! Check back next week for more. XOXOXO!

Love and cherries,
-Mia

p.s. Don't forget to check out When One is Not Enough for another un-edited snippet! :)

Super-Secret, Highly Classified Secrets...On Mia's Monday Madness

Happy Monday, all! As many of you know, I've been teasing about my 'Super-Secret, Highly-Classified' WIP for a couple of weeks now. Well, I guess it's time to finally come clean. So here it is: 

I, Mia Ashlinn, have started yet another series! 

(Let the gasps commence)

I know, I know. I said I wouldn't be adding another series to my ménage-tastic corner of Kansas any time soon. But I was wrong, so very, very wrong. This story (tentatively titled Pacts and Promises) has been in my head, and it seemed to fit in—in every way—with the other three series. 

How? Well, again, I am contradicting what I have said many times before. What have I said, you ask? Well, lots of things. In this case, though, I'm referring to Trinity, Kansas. 

Trinity? Who? What? When? Where? Huh?!?

(Don't strain your eyes too much. Trinity hasn't been added to this map just yet.)

Let me back up for just a second.

I have casually mentioned a big town named Trinity that lay directly in the middle of the Luscious, Serenity, and Kinky triangle in several books. Because of my references, questions have popped up about whether or not I would use it as a series. Initially, I said, "No." 

Why? Because at the time, I had no plans to go there. But as you all know, things change.

So.... 

Are you confused? I know I was when I initially embarked on this project. I even called my personal assistant slash beta, Tina, and told her I thought I was losing my mind. I was like, "I have this crazy idea, and it's completely, totally, and utterly insane. But I like it. I want to do it. What do you think? Do I need to check in to the looney bin?" Of course, she said that I needed to check in the looney bin, but that insanity had nothing to do with my idea. LOL. She actually assured me that I should follow the path the characters were taking me on, especially if I felt that passionate about it. And I did feel that passionately. Trinity was where I wanted to go. It was where I needed to go. But most of all, it was where I was meant to go. Or at least, that's what the characters keep telling me. 

Now, here I am—in a place I never expected to be—with four interconnected series, one of which has a huge whopper of a secret. And yes, before you ask, the paranormal ménage-esque world in Trinity is a secret. But that's all I'm going to tell you about The Shifters of Trinity series and the people in it. Dum-dum-dum. For now.

After all, I'd hate to have to kill you...

Love and cherries,

-Mia