🔥NSFW🔥 Ho Ho Ho! 4 Brand-New Christmas Stories for the Price of 1!
Dec 07, 2021 11:51 pm
Be sure to check out the brand-new giveaway link at the bottom of this newsletter, and Happy Holidays, everyone!
Four Stories for the Price of One!
Blurb:
Cowboys, Christmas and Daddy Doms... What could be better?
From USA TODAY and international bestselling authors Maren Smith, Maggie Ryan, Lucky Moon, and Rayanna Jamison comes a swoon-worthy collection of delicious cowboy Daddy Doms, spirited submissives, and lively Littles guaranteed to melt your heart and make your inner Little squeal with Christmas delight.
This boxed set includes these four brand new stories:
Sugar And Spice by Maggie Ryan
Daddy Saves Christmas by Lucky Moon
A Double Daddy Christmas by Rayanna Jamison
Daddy's Little Christmas Present by Maren Smith
“I can be your Daddy, babygirl.”
Excerpt:
He held both her hands in his now. The giant of a man looked down at her and there was hunger in his eyes, like he wanted to swallow her up. “I can be your Daddy, babygirl,” he said.
She swallowed and looked him in the eye. “I’d like that.”
His arms looped around her waist, and he tugged her into him. “You think you can take it?”
She felt his body pushed up against hers; the hardness of him, the warmth. “I know I can take it,” she said. “Us Scots are tough.”
He laughed. “Nothing compared to a Viking like me.”
She squeezed his biceps. “You’re a big Daddy bear.”
“Bjorn means bear, you know?” he growled, moving his hands down to her ass, gently squeezing.
She felt a thread of lust, tugging at her sex, making her squirm as he grabbed her. “You’re not gonna hurt me are you, Daddy bear?”
“Never,” he vowed.
When their lips met, it was cinnamon and spice. It was a kiss like no other. His lips pushed hard against hers, leading her as he explored her mouth. His silver beard bristled softly against her skin. His tongue pushed in, and she met it with hers as the two of them danced together, tasting each other in the fast-darkening Texan evening.
“Holy—” Isla started.
“Sausages?” Bjorn offered.
“I was gonna go with something less PG-thirteen,” she laughed.
He brushed her hair away from her face and went in for another kiss. This time, their bodies ground against each other. His hand found the small of her back while her fingers traced up the insane musculature of his back. He wedged a thick thigh between her legs, pressing the hard muscle against her wet pussy, making her moan as he mastered her with his tongue.
“Ask nicely, Cecilia. And unless you would like me to add more strokes, I suggest you do not roll your eyes.”
I turned to stare at her. “Did you not hear me? I just told you that even after he’d popped my ass the entire time he was carrying me over his shoulder like some sort of caveman, your brother was going to spank me.”
“And…”
“And?” I said, wondering how she could sound so nonchalant. “And I didn’t immediately run to the sheriff. That alone is enough to get my membership in the feminist club revoked. And the fact I couldn’t sleep even after pulling out BOB to… um… well, you know,” I said, taking a sip of my tequila as I felt my face flush at the memory. “Anyway, let’s just say I’ll understand if you think I’m some sort of pervert."
“First of all, the entire purpose of the feminist movement is to allow women the freedom to pursue whatever will fulfill the woman they are inside. If that doesn’t include the liberty to explore their sexuality and experience things she might discover makes her feel all warm and gooey inside, then I, for one, don’t want to be a member.”
I could only stare at her.
She laughed and shook her head. “Second, I doubt running to the sheriff would have done you any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say Sheriff McCarthy wasn’t just Hud’s college roommate, the guys seem to share the same proclivities when it comes to taking women they care about in hand.”
Well, that explained why he’d been completely unmoved by my threat, now, didn’t it? “Anything else you want to share?” I asked, wondering exactly when I’d dropped down the rabbit hole.
“Only that if you’re a pervert, then I’d have to say welcome to the club.” Taking my hands again, she said, “Cece, what I’m saying is you aren’t the only girl around here who might argue being a feminist does not mean a woman can’t enjoy a man who takes charge.”
No way had I heard what I thought she’d just said. Her husband was her rock, a man who hadn’t even batted an eye when she’d barked orders at him to take over our booth while she went off with me to drink at eight o’clock in the morning.
“I must have had a teensy bit too much tequila,” I said, shaking my head. “No way is Lance a…”
“A what?” she asked, “A fabulous father? A wonderful husband who doesn’t believe it makes him less of a man to help his wife with what makes her happy? Or that he is a dominant, an alpha male, the sexiest man on the planet, an incredible lover. And a man who doesn’t hesitate to take the woman he loves over his lap to spank her when she needs it? Because I can personally vouch that he is all those and more.”
You’re not her Daddy, his brain told him. By the looks of it, nobody was.
That was the problem.
He slowed down as he pulled up alongside her. He wasn't particularly surprised when she only glanced at him once and then, pushing her stroller around a puddle, refused to look at him again.
"Need a lift?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied, her tone cheerful although her expression wasn't.
No means no, right? Society was going overboard these days trying to drum that into the heads of men who couldn't take a hint. But really, did no really mean no when it involved babies, inclement weather, an impending snow fall that wasn't supposed to turn into a storm but definitely wouldn't be pleasant to walk through.
He wasn't her Daddy...
Clearing his throat, Brock tried again anyway. "I can have you there and back again, with all your errands run, before you can walk there on your own."
"I'm fine," she said again, a tick of stubbornness tugging the flat line of her mouth into a frown. "Really. I'm okay."
"I don't feel comfortable..." he said, trying a different direction.
"I don't get into cars with strangers," she said.
"I'm not a stranger. I'm your neighbor. How about if I promise not to offer you any candy? Would you get in then?"
She stopped, mid-step, staring down the length of the long muddy road that would continue like this for another two and a half miles before turning onto half a mile of pavement leading to main street. "I don't mean to be rude," she said with a sigh, "but I really am okay. You don't need to worry about me. You for sure don't need to drop what you're doing to drive me around. I knew it was going to be hard here. Starting over usually is. I'll be fine." Finally, she looked at him. "I promise. Okay?"
Only a pushy asshole would listen to that, completely disregard her wishes and continue to push his own. Brock rubbed his mouth, fighting his instincts hard to keep from becoming that kind of asshole. But when his only alternative was to drive away from her and let her discover on her own just how miserable this walk to town could be, especially if it started snowing before she got there, the need to protest overwhelmed him.
"I don't mean to be rude, either," he countered, "but if it's not snowing before you get there, it will definitely be snowing before you get home. That hoody isn't going to keep you warm. You've got a giant hole in the side of your sneaker. I can see how wet your sock is, and frost bite is still a thing. If your only reason not to get in my car is because you're embarrassed that I know you're going through a rough patch, then suck it up, buttercup. You've got a baby. You don't get to be stubborn about anything right now."
“Just because I can swing both ways doesn’t mean I can’t Daddy you into oblivion, little girl.”
“What Weston meant to say, was go home if you want. As stated, you can call this off at any time, but if the problem is that you are having trouble relaxing and getting out of your head, or giving yourself permission to let go, I can probably help with that.”
Damn these boys. Being all respectful and sweet and shit. They were making it really hard to turn them down, or maybe I just didn't want to. “The second thing,” I mumbled, looking down at my shoes.
Jax grinned. “Daddy mode activated.”
I felt a moment of embarrassment at him using the term Daddy in front of Weston, before I remembered that Weston apparently already knew all the things anyway. Weston grinned like that cat who ate the canary, and jumped onto the couch, reclining with his head rested on his hand while he watched the two of us intently.
Jax shot him a look. “What?” he asked innocently. “I’ve never gotten to see you get all bossy before. Color me intrigued.”
“You’re making it hard to focus,” Jax informed him.
“Sorry.” He was quiet for only a half a second, and then he grinned at Jax with a twinkle in his eye. “Do your thing, babe. But just for now. Later, you can both call me Daddy.”
My jaw dropped as I swung my gaze back to Jax. He blushed a deep purple, and looked at the floor, seeming to compose himself. Then he looked back at me. “Just because I can swing both ways doesn’t mean I can’t Daddy you into oblivion, little girl.”
Damn. He was right. The threat coupled with the familiar endearment made me weak in the knees.
“Yes Jax,” I whispered, all of a sudden blissfully ignorant of Weston’s nearby presence.
“Yes, who?” He was quick to correct me. He didn't really care what I called him, I knew. He just knew this was the easiest way to get me out of my head and fast.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now answer me this. Why do you get to be the only one wearing clothes?”
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