I have a new
furnace! It's shiny and pretty and takes up a lot less space than our old one
did. And it's amazing how nice and toasty the house is again. Here's hoping the
much-improved energy efficiency pays off too.
My workload is still
crazypants. Trying to get prepped for having the equipment going in and out of
our house didn't leave me a lot of time the past week. I also have a goal of
seriously getting rid of a bunch of stuff that's been collecting in odd, random
places for the past two decades.
I did get some
television watched, starting with another episode of Midsomer Murders. I think I might have found the show I'll be
replacing Midsomer with, but I have made a final decision yet.
Caught a few more
episodes of Sapphire and Steel and
watched a full arc of Classic Who. Sapphire and Steel is actually pretty
interesting with a different style.
Watched a Halloween
episode of Murdoch Mysteries, which
ended up being pretty fun. I love it when William has to deal with people and
things he doesn't feel comfortable with. Pretty cool variation on the theme
song also.
Also caught another
episode of Frankie Drake Mysteries. I
really do like this show and the friendship between Frankie, Trudy, Flo, and
Mary. My favorite season is still the first one, but if this is going to be a
long-haul show, I'm down with the changes to the style.
That's pretty much
it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Breaking Point, a follow up novel in what I'm referring to as the
Scorched Homeworld series. Definitely a working title there.
Here's the
mini-blurb:
Molly and Sloan are
rock solid until the fleet reaches its breaking point and their relationship is
one of the casualties… or so they want everyone to think.
And a sneaky peek… (a little on the sexy side)
Molly stood under the
hot spray, waiting for Sloan to arrive. Her first mission objective accomplished,
she let her mind dwell on the lack of progress. Something had to give soon or Sloan
wouldn't be the only one feeling the crunch. And if any more civilians died,
she hated to think how it would play out in the press. She might not credit the
reporters with knowing their asses from an airlock, but they could cause all
kinds of trouble the fleet didn't need right now.
Even anticipating Sloan's
arrival, she'd been lost in thought and jumped a bit when his hands cupped her
breasts and his mouth nuzzled her throat. Turning, she traded places with him
and shoved everything else from her mind.
"Water's
hot." She gave him a nudge and let him duck under the stream.
Sloan's head tilted
back and water sluiced over his face. Molly's eyes tracked the rivulets as they
slithered down his chest and torso before branching off to roll along his hips
and legs. She moved in close, picked a droplet and chased after it with her
finger. Sloan's stomach muscles rippled under her touch and his head dropped
forward. He grabbed the soap and poured a small amount on his chest before
adding some to the palm of his hand.
Molly took the hint
and smoothed her hands over his skin working up a good lather. Sloan returned
the favor and the heat of the shower notched up another degree. The way his
fingertips ghosted over her skin made her shiver under the hot spray of the
water. Her tongue darted out, the urge to follow the trail of suds sliding in
tempting pathways over his torso too strong to resist. She licked a trail from
his shoulder to his groin, dropping to her knees, her mouth wrapping around Sloan's
rock hard erection.
His hips thrust
forward and he groaned. "Feels good, Molly." His fingers smoothed
over her scalp.
Molly swirled her
tongue around the tip of Sloan's cock then sucked the length to the back of her
throat. Sloan moaned and the ball of tingling awareness in Molly's stomach
spread outward along all of her nerve endings. She bobbed her head back and
forth, listening to Sloan's breath rasp out, letting the exquisite feeling of
anticipation build until she couldn't stand it anymore.
Rising, her lips met Sloan's
and he lifted her, entering with a smooth thrust. Molly tore her mouth from his
with a groan. Her head dropped to his shoulder and she reached out, shutting
the water off. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she rocked her hips, meeting
Sloan's rapid staccato pace.
The knowledge she
made him forget the problems plaguing the fleet—at least for a while—gave her a
heady sense of power. The feel of him going deep, the sound of his harsh
breathing, the look of ecstasy on his face… everything combined to overwhelm
her senses. Would they ever lose the skill to affect each other on such a
primal level?
I honestly doubt
Molly and Sloan will ever lose that particular skill, but they might have to
pretend to for a while.
That's it for this
week. Catch everyone on the flipside.
ML Skye
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