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
BUY links: Evernight Amazon Bookstrand
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?
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."