Vanilla-Free Christmas Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2012 Evernight Publishing

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-207-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Marie Medina

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  9 Author Kink Anthology

  Santa's Beard by Doris O'Connor

  The Olympian by Sandra Bunino

  Three in a Tub by Giselle Renarde

  A Few of My Favorite Things by Seleste deLaney

  The Man Inside by Lila Shaw

  Who's Been Naughty and Nice? by Vanessa Devereaux

  Secrets Santa by Raven McAllan

  Faith's Gift by R. Brennan

  A Very Furry Christmas by Jorja Lovett

  SANTA’S BEARD

  Doris O’Connor

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  She did like kids, she did, really. But this ... this constant onslaught was a bit much. What had possessed her to help out in Santa's grotto was beyond her right now. Joanna wiggled her toes to help soothe the ache in her feet. The ridiculously pointed elf shoes had been cutting off her circulation all day, and as for this excuse of a skirt? It barely covered the vitals, and if she popped another button on her blouse she really would give someone an early Christmas present. Whoever this Elf costume was designed for, she was clearly much shorter and less voluptuous than Joanna. She was no stick insect, but had womanly curves, or rather, wobbly bits befitting her 'wrong side of forty' body, which normally didn't bother her. But trussed up like a human turkey she felt every one of her advanced years.

  She also felt extremely lonely. Nothing like being surrounded by fake Christmas cheer and an endless stream of happy families to bring home the fact that Joanna had no one. No frantic last minute Christmas Eve shopping for her, no screaming kids to console with yet more candy and a trip to Santa's knee, because Joanna had no one to buy presents for. There was only her and Bill and Ben, the two stray cats she'd taken in a couple of months prior. Found hiding behind her flowerpots, the felines had been in a sorry state. They had filled out nicely with Joanna's love and devotion, and whilst no amount of love could make up for Bill's horrific scars and Ben's missing front leg, they'd made their home with her and were now officially hers. No one had come forward to claim them, and she'd had them ID chipped only this week. Not that they ever left the house, but Joanna wasn't taking any chances.

  She smiled to herself, recalling the indignant glares and proverbial cold shoulder she'd been given by the two men in her life for days afterwards. Only bested by the amount of growling and snarling that had been going on when the vet suggested the two males ought to be castrated too. Ben had all his fur stood on end, making the already fluffy cat into a spitting fur ball of enraged fury, and even easy going Bill had given her such a stare, had he been a man, she would have dissolved into a pile of goo on the spot.

  None of the so-called Doms in the clubs she frequented in an effort to satisfy her kinky side had ever looked at her like that. It was a look that had all her female instincts sigh in submission and the rational side of her brain screaming at her to run.

  A high-pitched child's wail, followed by the sounds of breaking glass, shook her out of her internal reverie.

  Oh great! Another little Jimmy, who practically had ill-behaved and spoiled little brat tattooed on his forehead. Only little Jimmy wasn't of the age where the formidable tantrum he was now throwing, much to his mother's obvious embarrassment, could be deemed in any way acceptable. He had to be at least seven or eight, and as they'd been on their way out from the grotto, Joanna could only assume he was one of the ones Santa had told he was not going to get his wish this Christmas.

  It had caused Joanna no end of amusement and had somewhat made up for the ache in her feet and the ridiculous outfit she was wearing, watching this new Santa. The normal crew had all come down with a bout of food poisoning following their night out, thus necessitating pulling in help from other departments.

  Santa and his two very short, very elf-like Elves, it had to be said, had been brought in from God only knew where, and Santa seemed to take his job a bit too seriously. Not that Joanna could fault his judgment. She had been in tears listening to the heart-felt plea of the little boy, who only wanted a daddy for Christmas. Santa had stroked his beard, narrowed his eyes, and smiled. When the little fellow and his mum had left the grotto, they had run straight into a rather handsome, middle aged man, sending his bags flying. Joanna had held her breath, but, instead of exploding in anger, as she would have expected the man to do, he'd smiled, struck up a conversation with the boy's mother, and they'd headed to the coffee shop.

  Joanna had felt Santa's stare on her and when their eyes had connected, he'd smiled and nodded his head. Joanna had had the strangest notion of rightness settle over her, as though the man in the red suit had indeed granted that boy's wish, but that was ridiculous. Santa wasn't real—not even this one—with his wise eyes and extremely effective make up that made him look ancient. There was no way he could be as old as he looked. His big body moved far too gracefully to belong to an old man. No, he was just an extremely talented actor for a change.

  Still, she couldn't shake the notion that something was up. There had been too many strange incidents all day. Sure enough, even now, the incessant wailing stopped, after Santa fixed his mesmerizing eyes on that nuisance of a child and stroked his beard. Little Jimmy clamped his mouth shut and crossed his arms as though he had been gagged. His mum raised her eyes to the heavens as though to give thanks, and Santa smiled. There was an unmistakable twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he glanced at Joanna, and she suppressed a giggle. Perhaps she ought to sit on Santa's knee and see if he could grant her a wish.

  And what would she wish for exactly, if Santa were real? Joanna pursed her lips and went about her duties, until the last person in the queue had finally been seen, and the lights were dimmed. Thanks heavens, closing time. She kicked the ridiculous shoes off and groaned her relief as her poor abused feet screamed their relief at her.

  "If it was that bad, you could have taken them off before, you know."

  Santa's amused, deep voice settled over her, and Joanna fought a blush. What was that about? She never blushed. She harrumphed her annoyance at herself, and Santa chuckled.

  "Next you'll be telling me I needn't have bothered with this sorry excuse of an elf's costume either." He laughed out loud at that, and Joanna glared at him. What was so damn funny?

  "I and every other man in the vicinity has certainly appreciated the view, but I brought my own elves, so, it wasn't necessary, no."

  Again that damn heat rose into her cheeks, and Joanna swallowed the curse hovering on her tongue.

  "But, as you've been such a good girl, I do think you deserve a reward." Santa smiled and beckoned her over. "Come sit on my knee and tell me what you want for Christmas."

  There was that twinkle again, damn the man. Against her better judgment, she crossed the distance and dutifully perched on his knee.

>   "This is silly. I'm not a child, and you're not real." She tugged on his beard to emphasize that point, and he enclosed her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

  "Don't, that hurts. Believe me, I am very aware that you are not a child, but if you insist on behaving like one, I will gladly put you over my knee and spank your ass."

  She gasped at the erotic images that evoked in her mind, and she would have shot off his lap, had he not chosen that moment to put his large, warm hand on top of her naked thigh. Joanna shut her eyes and reminded herself to breathe. This was not one of her fantasies. They were at her place of work, and she could not allow her overactive imagination to get carried away. As it was her panties were damp and her nipples strained against her bra. This new Santa may indeed be an old man, but he was still a man. The way he shifted underneath her paid proof to that.

  Oh Lordy me!

  Santa chuckled and tightened his hold on her for a second before he sighed and stroked his beard.

  "Alas, that would not exactly be a punishment for you, would it now, Joanna? No, we would have to think of something far more creative than that."

  Joanna tried her best to look offended, but failed miserably. Was he a mind reader now?

  "I thought you said I'd been a good girl, and I deserved a reward?" She rolled her eyes at the breathless quality of her voice. Shit, it had been too long since she last had a good fuck, if this slight innuendo could get her that turned on.

  Santa patted her leg in an almost fatherly fashion, very much at odds with the erection digging into her butt. Bizarre to the extreme.

  "I did say that, so tell me. What is Santa to grant you this year? And you can ask me for anything." He stroked his beard again, and his dark eyes settled on her with disturbing intensity. "Come on, don't be shy. Unless you want to be the proverbial cat lady, of course?"

  That twinkle was back in his eyes, and Joanna had the oddest sensation that he knew far too much about her.

  "How did you … I mean … I don't. Oh sod it. You want the truth? Fine, I’ll tell you what I really want. I want two dominant men to use me any way they see fit. I want to be tied down, spanked, flogged, fucked any which way possible until I can't see straight, and I want to be loved, just the way I am."

  Chapter Two

  Joanna opened her front door and almost tripped up as Bill weaved through her legs. Clearly pleased to see her, he fixed his emerald eyes on her and purred his satisfaction when she stooped down and tickled the spot under his chin he loved her to stroke. She rubbed across the nasty scar his fur didn't cover with her thumb, and he closed his eyes. Not for the first time Joanna wondered what had caused that scar. It carried across his eyelid and up to his ears. It was a wonder he still had his eye. An affronted Miaow from Ben made her laugh as he sauntered down the stairs in his lopsided elegance. Ben might be missing his right, front leg and look as though he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, but he still demanded attention with all the haughty arrogance felines did so well.

  "Come here then, you silly cat. No need to be jealous."

  A hiss was her reply, but Ben did join Bill by her feet. He butted the smaller Bill out of the way and flopped on the floor to present his belly. Joanna dutifully tickled his soft under belly with one hand and resumed stroking Bill with the other. He jumped on her leg and licked her jaw. The rough texture of his tongue sent tingles along her skin, and Joanna sighed.

  Yep, sad old cat lady, that was her. A cat licking her was about as close as she was going to get to any male's tongue this Christmas. The club she usually frequented was closed, and besides, sex was off the menu there. She didn't trust anyone enough, even if public sex had been allowed on the premises. She couldn't afford the private membership fee that would ensure entry to the elusive BDSM club she was dying to gain admittance to. But she'd heard delicious rumors about Club Ink. If they were true … well, then all her Christmases would have come at once.

  After several minutes of determined cat pampering, Joanna was finally allowed to get off the floor and shut the front door. She had to laugh. If only she could find two men as dominant as her feline companions. Her mind wandered back to her sitting on Santa's knee. Rather than be embarrassed by her blurting out her innermost fantasies, a feeling of peace had settled over her instead. There was after all nothing wrong with what she wanted. Getting it was the problem, especially at her age. Were she a nubile twenty-something, no doubt it would be much easier to not only gain an invite to Club Ink, but also to find one of the real Doms the club was famous for. As it was she hadn't got much further bar fill in her online application form. Whilst Grisha, one of their exploration facilitators, had been kind and reassuring, she had not been able to bring herself to take it further, and she highly doubted that she would be able to get a session with him, more's the pity.

  No, far better to dream from afar and to wear out her numerous toys. Another night in front of the telly with a bottle of wine and the only two men in her life it would be. Santa may have stroked his beard and said, "Wish granted," but that didn't make it so.

  ****

  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." Ben, Aran, or whoever he was smiled, showing a set of razor sharp teeth, and Joanna held her breath as his eyes bled to glowing amber. He leaped off her with all the speed and agility of a large predator, and Joanna watched in stunned fascination, as the men nodded to each other. The air shimmered around them and in the blink of an eye, her bedroom was filled by two huge, beautiful black panthers. They nudged each other playfully, and before she could say anything else, the air shimmered and they were back in their human, and very aroused, forms.