Thursday, January 7, 2016

A Taste of Thursday: Consenting Hearts by @SexyMuffyWilson ~ A Very Special Valentine #Rafflecopter #ASMSG

Today is Thursday Taster! I have a Valentine's Day book release coming up on pre-release as soon as the cover is done. I thought I would give you a little peek. Don't forget to visit all the other authors for a look into their WIPs either on the link about or I have them listed one-by-one below! 

Enjoy!
Consenting Hearts

She opened the etched glass front door to Blu’s Piano Bar. It was black as the Devil’s soul inside—sultry, smoky, and secretive—seductive. Add a smart dash of pissed heat to the lure and that was just the way Sailie felt. She strode into the lounge looking exactly that way: dry on the inside, mean as a wet cat, thirsty for a dirty Martini, and in no mood for testosterone games. She stood in the doorway, shook her wet coat, and continued dripping still. Her clothes clung to the steaming curves of her body, accentuating, even in the dim lighting, every nuance. She pushed some errant curls off her face while she got her bearings, and though it seemed longer, it was only for a minute. The door closed softly against her ass and her vision adjusted as she threw her eyes in the direction of her real temptation and reason for being here. But the dim spotlight only illuminated an empty piano bench. There were no open seats at the bar, which pissed her off even more. Her mood couldn’t be more foul or less attractive. And that was just the way she wanted it right about now.

She walked over to an open spot in the crowd and leaned over a military hunk at the bar so she could get the bartender’s attention. The Navy Seal stood up to offer her his stool. She was mildly impressed by his kindness and manners. He waved at the bartender and let Sailie settle in while the bartender took her order. The seat was hot under the fabric of her suit. She inadvertently wiggled her appreciation as she settled.

“A dirty Martini—bone dry with a twist…stirred not shaken,” she told the bartender.

“Happy Love—” he began with a smile.

“Are you talkin’ to me?” Sailie shot back.

“Why, yes’m! I was gonna say ‘Happy Lover’s Day’—It’s Valentine’s Day and Happy Hour: two for one,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah, so it is—sorry. Two-for-one? Even better,” she told him. “Bring ’em on and keep ’em coming until I ask you to stop.” Sailie turned to the Seal and said, “Thank you for the stool. After today, I thought chivalry was dead,” while she fished for her wallet in her briefcase.

When the bartender brought her drink, she put out a twenty-dollar bill and nodded at him. She closed her eyes, inhaled the aromatic fermentation of the gin garnished with lemon rind. Sailie took her first sip, feeling the warmth of the drink washing over her body, inch by inch. She savored that very first sip luxuriously. It was like a lover’s hands sliding down her body, igniting every inch as they felt their way to her toes. She was beginning to feel quite sublime, though still wet in her suit and silk blouse. Her one private indulgence, beyond her scarlet peek-a-boo platform sling-back-come-fuck-me pumps, was matching red silk undies that made her feel like the real woman she was beneath the staunch IBM-clad exterior of her Brooks Bros veneer. She loved ‘dressing for success’.  It made her feel superior to all men and most women—except one.

It was her professional armor—her warrior wardrobe. And she ran hot beneath the calm cool exterior…whenever she saw the piano player.

Aware that people looked at her as if they wanted her made her feel stronger, in control, and gave her an emotional intellectual edge. It also made her feel more womanly, more vital—more alive. There was a swagger to her step, a snap-click to her heels, and an attitude unmistakable in an independent woman of confidence as she felt the flair of her suit hem sway against her thighs. Used to getting whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it, Sailie slid her eyes in the direction of the standing Navy Seal. The first sip of the Martini rolled a burn over her parched lips.

“I’m sorry, I forgot my own manners. May I buy you a drink, Frogman?”

He looked her full in the face, blushed slightly while extending his hand and said, “Sure, thanks. Dylan Jansen. My friends call me Dylan. I’m enjoying the smooth pleasures of a Southern Comfort Manhattan.”

Sailie waved to the bartender to get Dylan another drink and she warmed. They both laughed.

“You recognize the branch of service?”

“That was pretty funny, ‘my friends call me Dylan’. Navy Seals? Yes, I do. Are you a Frogman or a Leap Frog? I have a family tree full of military men and women who served proudly over twelve generations.” Sailie felt flush with pride or was it anticipation?

“Leap Frog, ma’am,” his eager smile and bright eyes were five-alarm charming. He was strikingly good looking in his uniform—narrow at the waist, broad at the shoulder, thick strong hands. She was a sucker for a hunk in uniform, going weak at the knees whenever she met a one that appealed to her. And he surely was and he surely did. No doubt about it. He was a big hunk of heaven in combat boots. Immediately, Sailie felt conspicuous about her appearance. She was soaked to the bone, her hair still dripping in wet corkscrew curls as it dried. And…she was getting wet between the thighs, just watching him finger his cigar. She downed another one of her drinks and excused herself to go to the ladies' room. She slid against his form as she stood, catching him slightly off guard. Sailie smiled demurely and made her way to the restroom.

    She immediately removed her wet trench coat and salvaged what she could of her clothes. Her silk shirt was shrinking as it slowly dried against her warm flesh. She loosened another button and her breasts cleaved and bulged through the v-neck, her nipples raw against the silken fabric. Able to breathe freely again, Sailie went into one of the stalls. She could feel her mounting excitement claim her passion.
© Muffy Wilson


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Muffy, author of provocative romance about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in Texas to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and 'came of age' in France which forged her joie de vivre and love for books, writing and education.

Married and living in the tropical paradise of SW Florida along the Gulf Coast, Muffy dabbles in real estate, writes and enjoys life in the sun with her husband and wee Havanese pup, Burt. 
~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion





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~ Coming Soon ~


Jan 2016 ~  Consenting Hearts A Very Special Valentine
Feb  2016 ~ My Life in the Sky A Memoire of Lt.Col. Joe Lyle Jr
Mar 2016 ~ Naughty Nights Press Anthology with Gina Kincade
May 2016 ~ Sequel to The Para-Portage of Emily
July 2016 ~ Sequel to Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences




© 2000-2016 Muffy Wilson. [Muffy@MuffyWilson.com] All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

10 comments :

  1. Sorry my post got cut off. It's a very lengthy read, but this piece was never dull and ongoing.

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    1. Thank you for slogging through it! It is long, but where to stop? Maybe I should have started the piece in the bathroom stall where she wishes she had her travel Rabbit and elects to improvise, anyway!

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  2. I really liked the use of snap-click heels. That was a great description. I really started to get involved in her character, she has a big attitude and a single weakness...love it.
    Thank you for sharing.

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    1. Thank you, Summer! I like writing strong women that have hidden gardens of weak indulgences. My days of Navy Seals have been replaced by chocolate as a weakness. Such is my garden now! xo

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  3. Great tease loved if Muffy :) thanks - Tonya

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    1. Thank you for stopping, Lady Tonya. SO nice to have you visit. xo

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  4. I don't think she needs to put too much effort in this. I mean he already like her enough to be around while she is wet.

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