Well hello there sucker! Oops, I meant sexy beast..

If you're reading this, I pray we know each other. Whether that means we've had drinks or exchanged awfully inappropriate comments on Instagram, doesn't matter, you are my friend and therefore stuck with me for life. It also means I don't have to explain the hot, hot, hot mess below... If we haven't met, I am so, incredibly sorry. In advance.

I am going to take a rare (we're talking Tonkin Snub Nosed Monkey rare, not Giant Squid rare, so like medium???) moment to be serious. See, I love you. LIKE FREAKING LOVE YOU! If you are reading this, you care. And that is more than I ever expected. 

Much love (the creepy, touchy-feely kind)


  • Surprise!
  • Legit Writing Update
  • Contest
  • Surprise!
  • Short Fiction: Tight Spaces
A little bit of motivation for you while you scroll...
Book two in the Mixing Business With Pleasure Series, Bad For Business, is slated for June 2016 release. My editor and I just finished our wonky-ass process with chapter 10. I'm dying to make teasers, she's living it up in Europe for the next few months. Fingers crossed things go as planned.

I've decided to keep polishing my dual POV piece The Muse. There's no real timeline on this but I will tell you Harlow and Greyson are far kinkier than Nicholas and Kate. <<insert wicked eyebrow arch here>> 

You can always follow me on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter for more deets!
(otherwise known as the only reason you've read this far)
Adult coloring books are all the rage and I figured if the cool kids were doing it, the coolest kid needed to do it too. So BB Easton, you are a penis coated coloring sheet. And a contest. I'm sure this is a major #lifegoal for you... 

Any who.... TO ENTER
Print this coloring slick (also available HERE), slap some paint on it, snap a pic on Instagram and tag BB and I in it. Winner will be drawn randomly May 1st from all entries and get a $15 Amazon gift card. You're welcome. 
And on that whole romance note...
Short story: Plane Crash Into Me

“That’s it!” I shrieked, slamming down my iPad, unconcerned with what it did to the seat in front of me. But it wasn’t just that particular passenger whose head swiveled around exorcist style. With a captive audience, I had to commit. “As soon as we’re off this godforsaken plane I want a divorce.” I bit the inside of my lip to force tears to well in my eyes.  

    “But what about counseling? We talked about counseling?” Cole tried to calm me, reaching out for my shoulders as I shot up from my seat. 

    “She’s your mother Cole. Us going to counseling isn’t going to fix your mother.” I made my voice soar a few octaves as I turned toward the bathroom. 

    I caught the momentary furrow of his brow at the mention of his mother but he fell back into character the moment I stomped off. 

    “Elle,” he called and I humphed as I beelined for the bathroom. “Ladyface, wait. Stop. She’s a doctor, You know that’s the only reason she feels like she needs to know your ovulation schedule.” 

    That bastard.

    The telltale sound of seat-backs creaking as he shoved down the aisle after me was the only thing interrupting the normal hum of the airplane. Every set of eyes fell away from us at the airing of our intimately dirty laundry. Even the flight attendants were clearing out of our way with simple, “Ma’am”s and “Sir”s. 

    “It’s not because she’s a doctor, it’s because she wishes you were still attached to her tit,” I shouted as I whirled into the bathroom, slamming the door with a flourish. 

    “That’s low. You know she suffered with postpartum depression.” The barrier did little to muffle his bellow.

    “You’re twenty-seven Cole!” I kicked the rickety door for emphasis. 

    The soft tones of flight attendants politely trying to diffuse the situation mingled with Cole’s grunts and groans.

    “Ladyface.” He mellowed a little, cooing as he wrapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “Ladyface, please. At least talk to me.”

    “No, no, no.” I stomped again. 

    “Elle, let me in there now. We are talking this through, and we’re talking this through now. You can’t run from me on a mother fucking plane.” The moment he swore, he apologized to the people nearest the bathroom I’d locked myself in. 

    I tried to remember their faces and couldn’t. But I could perfectly map the sharp angles of his along with the way tattoos threatened to envelope each ridge.

    “Elle, open this door.” Cole’s voice had changed again, this time it was a rough, snarly thing. 

    My fingers trembled a little as they reached for the lock. I popped it to find Cole waiting with an attendant behind him, peeking in curiously. I thanked my lucky stars anxiety had kept my teeth firmly latched to my cheek. 

    “Talk to me,” he pleaded a little too loudly for the sentiment.

    “Fine,” I sighed and pulled open the door. It may have been my imagination but the flight attendant standing over Cole’s shoulder seemed to nod in encouragement. 

    And why wouldn’t she? Cole was a breathtaking man complete with tattooed muscular forearms, and darkly golden hair fashioned into a cut and color David Beckham probably paid huge money for. He was wearing dark jeans and a short-sleeve button up that was a classy accent to the dangerous and drool-worthy ink. Any red blooded woman would scream, “He’s a keeper, if only to climb like a jungle gym,” at me.

    “You can’t leave me,” he snarled as he stepped in, latching the door.

    “Think they bought it?” I murmured before whining, “I can’t stay either. Not like this,” at an unnecessary decibel.

    “Hook, line and fucking sinker,” his whisper was laced with a husky chuckle. “And added benefit, fighting with you has me harder than the stroking before.”

    I purred and reached the minuscule distance to his erection, which was in fact, straining almost painfully against the trouser trap of denim.

    “Cole, I just can’t be married to both of you any more. She’s a goddamned succubus.” 

    His hulking frame was made all the larger by the confines of an airplane bathroom. Big, strong hands wrapped around my thighs and rucked my knee up to his hip. He’d helped me dispose of my thong from under my skirt ages ago—thank you scratchy blue felt blanket. That is literally the only thing you're good for—and he unceremoniously slid into me. 

    “Fuck babe,” his words were a very real reaction to my pussy and I had to dig my fingers in where I clutched at his biceps to remind him we’re acting you asshat. He caught the drift. “How do you want me to respond?” he strangled out as he started trusting shallow and slow, letting the tip of his delicious dick tease my sex.  

    “I want you to pick me.” My voice wavered at the same time everything in my belly clenched at the idea of him picking me. 

    Cole gasped in response to my wild insides then shoved fully in. I leaned in and bit into his chest like he was a goddamned bacon cheeseburger to keep in the haggard sounds of pleasure I wanted to let lose. 

    “I did. I will,” his voice was almost agonized.

    I prayed his voice read tortured-in-love rather than holding-back-piles-of-cum. 

    “You say that, Cole.” 

    On second thought, I prayed no one was listening anymore at all. Our acting hack-job was getting weaker than my quivering knees as he started hammering into me. My ass hit the counter a few times before he fully gripped and lifted me. The way he curled his fingers had one of his tattooed digits pressing against the pucker of my ass. 

    “I mean it,” his barely remembered line reminded me of cheap day-time soap. 

    His finger pushing into me and then against his hammering dick reminded me I didn’t care. Cole plunged and thrust, alternating against the almost belligerent thrust of his cock.

    “I’m at my wits end,” I yell-moaned.

    Hopefully more yell than moan. I mean fingers crossed, right?

    Cole arched back and looked directly into my eyes; bright, blazing green meeting lucid, icy blue. 

    “Me too,” he strangled out. 

    His eyes confirmed what we were both implying. He pushed a second finger the tiniest way into my ass and I exploded. When I clenched down on him, his fingers split into a V and he rubbed himself through me. I bit into his shoulder again rather than holler like a wounded animal. His cum was every bit as powerful as him, shooting like a goddamn bullet into me. I bit harder into his flesh.

    The moment he could he manage he added loudly, “I guess that’s it then.”

    “Yeah, I guess so,” I gasped a little more wildly than him. 

    Cole smirked as he set me back down gently to the floor. “That was fucking unbelievable,” he whispered as he pulled out. The heat of his orgasm dripped down onto my inner thigh. As best as he could, he folded in the small space, bending down and grabbing a paper towel he went. 

    “Don’t.” I shoved on shoulder. “It’s a souvenir.”

    “God, I think I may be in love with you.” Desire shot through his beaming eyes and made his shoulders shudder. 

       “Good. People need to think as much for the next thirty to forty-five minutes. They think we’re married remember?” I arched an eyebrow as I splashed some water on my face, purposely making tear tracks I could wipe off in the aisle.

    A banging at the door made me jump but Cole, cool as a damned cucumber, swept his eyes over me, saw I was decent, and popped open the door.

    “Sir, Miss, everything OK in here?” The flight attendant’s stern face faltered when she took us in. 

    “No. She’s fucking leaving me,” Cole snarled and whipped past her. 

    “I…I thought…it sounded like…I’m so sorry,” she stammered.

    Clearly we’d been as loud as I feared and only recovered at the last minute by miraculously looking disheveled in the brawling-rather-than-fucking kind of way. 

    “It’s been a long time coming.” I bit my lip, pretending a quiver hung on it rather than a Cheshire Cat grin. “I’m just sorry that it came to a head here.” I added volume to the second part, hoping it sufficed as an apology to the cabin. 

    “We’re a completely full flight, I can’t reassign your seat. Perhaps someone will swap,” she added kindly. 

    “No. That won’t be necessary. The damage is done. The drama has passed. Thank you though.” 

    I pushed past her to my vacant seat next to a huffing Cole. He snuck me a devastating wink before I plopped next to him. As soon as I did, he grazed his knuckle along my thigh. The one that had cat on it. I remembered the animal vividly from when he drummed his hand on the folding tray, I’d pictured his pussy deep inside mine. The finger along with the newly minted memory made me smile, and once again, I found myself biting too hard on the inside of my cheek. 

    Perfectly timed tears welled in the corner of my eyes as the flight attendant took it upon herself to bring me a tiny bottle of Jameson. I nodded, doing my best to look choked up rather than fantasizing about choking on Cole’s cock. She handed him a similar bottle then turned. 

    “Ice?” he questioned under his breath. 

    I rolled my eyes and tipped my bottle to stealthily cheers his, unscrewing it and putting it back with a simple unhinge of the throat. I swallowed hard and made the sour face that always accompanied a shot but then let out a deep and satisfied sigh. I turned to Cole, hoping to sneak a small smile in his direction. Instead, I found him watching me wide eyed as if he’d never seen a woman shoot whiskey before. 

    “Should see me with cum,” I mouthed the words more than anything but he caught my drift, his whole face changing. 

    Heat radiated back at me, his eyes like the blistering ripples that wave up from pavement, his muscles taut like he might pounce. I crossed my legs trying to suppress the arousal quickly spreading between my exposed thighs and Cole’s eyes darted down to watch. His gaze was the sun filtered through a magnifying glass pointed directly at my pussy; at any moment it might explode into flame. When I pressed harder and the somewhat sticky, somewhat scratchy patches of Cole juice spread across my thighs, my cheeks bloomed a violent scarlet. 

    He cleared his throat, pulling my eyes back to his. When we locked on each other again, he unscrewed his lid, shoved his tongue out and made it into a clover looking shape. He poured part of the tiny bottle into the well he’d created, pulled his tongue in and swallowed. The scarlet spread down my neck and wove like vines along my collar bone. He shoved his tongue back out, making a simple circular tube. Without another flourish, he poured the rest of the bottle down the makeshift straw. 

    Cole let a smug smile spread across his lips when he’d gulped the whiskey down. He didn’t need to say, “No, you should see me with my tongue.” 

    “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our final decent to the Chicago area. Please make sure your tray tables are locked and your seatback is in the full upright position…” The captain continued his automated spiel, breaking the spell that had held Cole and I captive. 

    I looked away first and kept my eyes cast down for the rest of the flight. 

    When we shuffled out, the flight attendants each gripped my shoulder, undoubtedly hoping to show support. Only a small part of me felt bad for deceiving everyone. The vast majority of my conscious wanted to grow arms and pat my own back for having my way with a hot stranger in the bathroom.

    And yes, big, beautiful, art-covered, 5 o’clock shadowed Cole was still a stranger to me. He was supposed to stay that way.

    So I kept walking. Up the gangway, out through the gate, down the terminal then straight for the bathroom. Each step created delicious friction on my naked clit and reminded me there was still a souvenir of what we’d done coating my skin. It made my internal temperature sky rocket. 

    And become desperate for an orgasm. 

    I tucked into the bathroom, fulling intending to rub one out, picturing his finger pussy inside mine all over again, when I noticed a cocktail napkin shoved into my purse. As I smoothed the crinkles, big bold letters bled across the flimsy white paper. 

Send me a souvenir



    I swallowed hard as I stared at his request. Of course I knew what he was asking. I’d used the word after all… 

    For a moment, I considered balling up the napkin and chalking the whole thing up to a one-time sex checklist item. I mean, a man like that was absolutely zero good in real life. Right? But then I recalled him gulping whiskey out of an impossible-to-make-with-your-tongue shape and decided to take a fuckitall and slipped into a stall with my phone at the ready.

    Maybe I’d see more of that tongue…

    When I pulled up my skirt, little crystalline patches ran like the Nile Delta across my skin. The moment that he came flashed vividly back to mind. My finger was reaching toward the slick folds of my sex before I even thought fully about it. The second I laid the pad of my finger to the tiny nub of nerves my body twitched and jerked. An orgasm was waiting just around the corner for me courtesy of Cole No-Last-Name-But-Hulking-Shoulders. 

    I flipped the camera to video and positioned myself so the screen was filled with cum covered flesh, rucked up skirt and a glistening, slick pussy. One finger pressed the big red circle on my phone while the other pressed on a very different button. 

    My hips bucked up into my hand and I had to keep my feet from sliding out into another stall. I couldn’t help but watch as my most intimate bits tightened, twitched and trembled. Two of my fingers dipped inside me, following their far too familiar path and crooked up into my G-spot. 

    Cole wouldn’t be able to see but at that moment, my head rolled back against the wall and shook side to side. When my eyes fluttered shut it was all him, my fingers weren’t mine any more. He stroked me. He teased me, circled me, caressed me and swirled around in the arousal thick between my legs. 

    It took me almost no time to come—though I almost bit off my tongue trying not to shriek out—and even less time to send the video via message along with the text: 


you did this to me.


    Almost immediately the telltale three dots appeared in response. But then almost as quickly they vanished. I gulped hard on the lump in my throat, feeling regret seep into my pores. A stranger had a video of me orgasming and he didn’t even appreciate it. Or worse, didn’t want it. There could even be a girl threading her hand into those fingers that still had me all over them. 

    Fuck, fuck, fuck.

    What had I done? Not only sending the video, but on the plane. I’d spread my legs like it was some pervy game of Getting To Know You. Like it was no big deal. Where was my dignity? Why hadn’t they caught me? 

    But then the dots picked back up. 


i’m turning the car around. meet me in arrivals. i haven’t even kissed you. this isn’t remotely over…

Copyright © 2016 Ace Gray Author, All rights reserved.

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