Happy Tuesday! Christmas is around the corner! Everybody ready? Today I've got author Raven McAllan coming for a visit again and talking stuffed stockings, Santa and well, read on! Oh, did I mention she's also holding a giveaway?
Stuff The Stocking—give
me Santa…
Let's face it, not for one moment am I going
to believe Santa is a little old roly-poly man with last night's dinner in his
beard and who smells of snuff or worse.
"Oh
no he isn't."
Under that red coat
and furry hat is a lot of padding. Cushions, polystyrene bits, and the odd chunk
of cotton wool But, wait for it, under all that
is a hot-bod-drop-dead-gorgeous-lose-your-knickers-in-a-flash for guy. Who
smells divine.
My version is tall
dark and handsome (duh) with deep, dark, fathomless eyes and a smile that
lights all my candles and more! Feel free to imagine your own private fantasy
Santa. Or borrow mine; I don't mind sharing. After all, Christmas is a time for
sharing.
So stuff the stocking,
(although that conjures up some very interesting scenarios) I'd prefer Santa to
do the stuffing…
I seem to have a few
Christmas stories out this year, can you tell I'm a sucker for all things
Christmassy… From Where There's A Will, my free story (Evernight Publishing), via
A Vanilla Free Christmas, the anthology (also from Evernight), to The Perfect
Gift, Book three in my Ladies of London series (Breathless Press) to Deck Mac
Hall, (also Breathless). I've spanned the era's, and degree of hotness…
Last Christmas, I did
the usual, wished on a star… wow wishes do come true…
Mac Hall in Deck Mac
Hall, the Christmas story that is to be released this coming Friday, hopes his
wishes will come true. As does Holly… but …on this cold and snowy Scottish
Christmas…
See for yourself
For ten years Mac had trained to understand
the sort of Dom he is. Now he must explain himself to Holly and hope it's what
she wants. Holly has lusted after Mac for years, so when he suddenly announces
this Christmas is the right time, she is determined to see it through.
Mac is a man of extreme tastes, and he's not
all sure that Holly can be the sub he needs. He has prepared for this time for
years.
Will all this preparation bear fruit, or is
little Holly going to run away screaming? There's only one way to find out.
Here's a tease…
"Now that is
definitely the rock-star status symbol," she said as she stared at the
deep red Aston Martin DB9. "Love the color." She followed him toward
the door.
"It reminds me of
your lips," he said casually as he opened it to usher her inside the
house. "And the color your ass will look after a spanking."
Holly spluttered and
stood still. Thank goodness she didn't have a mouthful of liquid or his back
would be soaking. All she could think of was the pictures he painted in her
mind. Of her ass on view and his hand coming down. Another surge of juice
redampened her thong, and she squirmed.
"Does that turn
you on, Holls? I bet if I put my hand up that tiny pelmet of a skirt you're
wearing and under your panties, you'd gush for me, wouldn't you? Soak my hand.
And if I rubbed your clit, put my fingers into you, you'd come, fucking my
hand. I'm so looking forward to that."
"Yes, well,"
Holly said. Of course he noticed. Damn
him. Her ass was on fire at the thought. And sod him, she was almost coming
with his words, never mind any actions. "Dream on. Talk, not show,
remember? This time it's all words, not actions."
He laughed. "This
time. I like that."
Bollocks.
Foot in mouth.
She didn't say
anything and tried not to listen to his amused chuckle. Carol the cautious one
had always said her habit of opening her mouth before her brain engaged would
get her into trouble one day. Instead she walked past him though a large room,
which had a freezer and washing machine in it. She saw an old-fashioned pulley
or dolly-maid clothes airer, as they were sometimes called, hung from the
ceiling. Mac followed her gaze.
"Interesting,
isn't it," he said. It wasn't a question. "Such a great mix of ropes
and slats. I have another one in my room."
As a conversation
stopper that took the gold star. Holly gaped at him.
"I don't use it
for drying clothes either. So far it's untouched, but I'd like to rectify
that."
Her skin tingled, and
sharp stings of excitement bombarded her. She rubbed her legs together as a
fresh gush of excitement sent her juices into overdrive. At this rate it
wouldn't just be her underwear that was soaked. How on earth could she deny him
anything?
"Really?"
She tried for nonchalance and was sure she missed it by a mile. "Instead
of a wardrobe maybe?"
"Minx. Come on. Let's
have a glass of wine and sit by the fire. Then I promise I'll talk to you. Just
talk until you say different. I know." He held his finger over her mouth
as she opened it to come back with a smart retort. "I mustn't
presume."
Holly couldn't help
herself. She nipped the digit—not hard—and then ran her tongue over the spot.
"Fuck it, Holly.
Do not do that. You are so testing my patience, lady, and around you, it's
pretty near none-existent anyway. Go sit in the lounge. Through that door there.
And shut up. Please, or I'll forget every promise I've made you and myself and
fuck you five ways till Friday."
***
And as for Judith, she wants to give Stephen
The Perfect Gift for their Regency Christmas. (Their story was released on the
7th.)
Judith has the perfect
present for Stephen—herself. Will he accept, or decline her gift?
Lady Judith Gresham
had been in love with Stephen, Viscount Pelham for years.
Stephen eleven years her elder, treated her
purely as one of his sisters friends; he was too old in years and deeds for
such a young innocent. As his sister, was now happily married, there was no
longer any reason to see her.
Even to himself he wouldn't admit he missed
her.
So when his sister and her new husband decided
to have a Christmas house party, and illness causes them to beg to use his home, he agreed. Even when he heard
Judith was to be one of the guests he wasn't really worried, he would keep to
himself, enjoy Maria Mallins, his long married mistress, and treat Judith with
distant benevolence.
However Judith and his sister had other ideas. Look…
A tease again
Stephen gave into
temptation. He stretched out and caressed the perfect globes of the milk-white
arse presented to him. His fingers ached to sample the delights he could
imagine between the delicate curls that covered her quim. He nobly resisted the
urge to venture further, but fondled her arse, and circled the perfect rosette
of her anus. Even that small degree of
intimacy made his cock rise up and demand attention. Thank the lord for the
decrees of the ton that stiff breeches were not de-rigeuer in all situations.
He was pleased to be wearing pantaloons, even if they were frowned upon as fast
by some of the upper echelon of the ton.
A noise not unlike a
kettle about to boil was coming from under the skirts. It seemed the lady was
not amused.
With an inward smile
of satisfaction, Stephen used his fingers to tease for a few seconds longer,
squashing his innermost desires to take things a lot further. Judith, for he
was sure it was she, was upside down, her skirts hung over her upper body, and
shielded him from her view.
With regret he turned her upright, letting her
skirts fall and cover her perfect body.
She was red in the
face as she glared at him.
Stephen suppressed a
chuckle. "Ire because I took a small liberty my dear or because I stopped
before I began to explore?" He raised one fine shaped eyebrow, and held
the lantern closer to her.
The light swayed, and he saw stars, as pain
radiated from his stomach, to his cock and thence upwards. He could have sworn
his teeth rattled with the intensity of the blow he received.
The
minx has hit me.
His breath whooshed
out of him, and through the ringing in his ears he heard her furious voice.
"You bastard, you cad, you, you,
villain." Her voice was deep and full of scorn. "Is that the lone way
you can justify touching me? When my head is covered and I cannot either take
part or deny you?"
Put like that it did
seem rather more underhand than he intended. Stephen did his best to gather air
into his labored lungs and not wheeze like an old man. It was several seconds
before he decided he was in control of his breathing once more. His chest
heaved as he struggled to formulate his sentence.
"I apologize, my
lady," he said stiffness uppermost in his voice. "If I offended or
upset you." He was not going to apologize for his actions, and he saw the
gleam in her eyes when she realized it.
"And do you
apologize for anything more?" she asked, her hands clenched by her sides.
Stephen eyed those
tiny weapons. He knew the signs of ire in a woman. "If I did so, it would
be a lie," he replied. "I must be frank, I enjoyed every tiny touch,
and my body aches for more."
***
See? Feisty heroines,
who won't stand for any nonsense. If anyone tries to do 'stuff' without their
say-so, well that person's goose will be well cooked.
To celebrate, I'll
give away a copy of either book to two commenters, when they say who they want
stuffed in their stocking!
You can find me at
and on twitter
@RavenMcAlllan
Happy
Christmas
Love
R x
