BLURB:
This Christmas, the best gifts are waiting for those
who have been naughty… And the toys under the tree are not for
children. Sexy Santas, naughty elves, and dominant shifters are ready to
spread some very kinky Christmas cheer. It's a good thing the ladies in
our stories are looking for anything but vanilla. Be Warned: ménage
sex, anal sex, sex toys, BDSM, spanking
Blurb for Santa's Beard:
When
Santa strokes his beard wishes are granted - apparently. Joanna is not
convinced, but when she wakes up on Christmas morning to find her cats
have magically morphed into two naked and dominant men, she doesn't know
what to think anymore. All she can do is ride the waves of sensation,
as all her kinky desires come true. Can fantasy stand up in reality, or
was it all just a dream?
EXCERPT
Joanna
stretched and moaned softly. Christmas Day already? She couldn't even
remember getting to bed last night, but clearly she must have done. She
was not lying face down on her lumpy couch anymore, where she was pretty
sure she had passed out sometime on Christmas Eve, having drunk the
entire bottle of wine by herself. She distinctly remembered Ben's feline
stare and Bill licking her ear, and then things had gotten crazy.
Joanna
groaned, recalling the strange dream that had followed. Yes, crazy cat
lady, that was her, for in her dream, Ben's stare had changed into the
disapproving and unblinking gaze of a drop dead gorgeous, muscled hunk
of a man. Her pussy had clenched, and she'd whimpered her need into the
shoulder of another man. Slightly smaller and leaner than his
counterpart, he'd nonetheless made short work of picking her up. The
room had swayed and Joanna had held on to impossibly broad shoulders,
curling her fingers into the man's flexing biceps as her stomach had
rolled and her head pounded. She had screwed her eyes shut and buried
her face in the man's broad chest, desperately trying not to bring up
the contents of her stomach.
"Relax." The deep voice of the man carrying her had rumbled through her, and another hand had massaged her shoulders.
"Caid is right. Relax, let us take care of you for a change, sweet Joanna."
Even
in her dream, Joanna thought how odd this conversation was, but she
wasn't about to argue with the commanding tone that made her toes curl
under. Had she not been feeling so wretched that voice alone would have
been enough to make her want to jump his bones.
Instead she had
snuggled into the two male, warm bodies cocooning her and had slept
peacefully all night. Now that was a first, too. Usually Joanna battled
with insomnia, but not last night. Like a warm, soothing blanket, her
men had surrounded her, much like Bill and Ben always did. Now there was
a thought. Usually the two felines would have demanded their breakfast
by now. Instead the mouthwatering aroma of brewing coffee permeated her
senses at the same time as the prodding hardness against her ass cheeks
registered for what it was.
What the fuck?
Her eyes flew
open, and she would have dashed off the bed, had the man whose rock hard
cock was digging into her crack not chosen that moment to use his
considerable body strength to pull her back, roll her over, and pin her
to the bed. He caught her flailing wrists with one large hand and held
them still above her head. Her long haired captor ground his hips into
the juncture of her thighs and pinned her with a stare so intense, her
pussy instantly flooded with the evidence of her arousal. His emerald
eyes narrowed and he smiled—a slow, dangerous, smile—that made her heart
miss a beat before it tried to hammer itself out of her chest.
"Lie still, sweet Joanna. You've earned yourself enough punishment as it is."
Good
God. It was the voice from her dream. A voice so full of authority and
leashed passion, Joanna's breath hitched and excitement spread through
her veins like wildfire.
"P … punishment? What for?"
"Hmm,
let's see." The stranger, whose eyes held her captive with their
familiar arrogance, smiled and pressed his erection into her mound.
"Does this feel as though it ought to be castrated? And I won't even
mention the fucking tags."
His annoyed growl vibrated through her
and her eyes widened, when she took a proper look at him. It couldn't
be. Yet, there, right above her was the unmistakable evidence. Her
captor was missing his right arm—just like Ben.
"Ease up, Aran,
you're scaring our woman. We need to explain this. Then we can paddle
that sweet ass of hers and give her the fucking she deserves."
"Paddle
… deserve?" Joanna was all too aware that she sounded like a dimwitted
parrot, but when one was staring at a drop dead gorgeous human version
of one's cat—and this one had a scar just like Bill—surely a woman was
allowed to sound like a feathered idiot.
"You're my cats. You're Bill and Ben." That statement came out as a high-pitched squeak, and both men growled.
"Another ten swats to the tally for those ridiculous names, and we're not just cats."
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