Season's Beatings - Ryan Andrews - ebook

Jane wasn’t looking forward to a lonely Christmas but a decorating accident had her waking at the North Pole. The muscular Viking called Nick wasn’t what she’d expected Santa to look like, but she had no complaints about his rough treatment of her body. As for him, a voluptuously curvy woman with an ass made for spanking and lips made for sucking was just what he needed before his big night.~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~Nick whistled at the sight of Jane. “You look amazing! Santa's little helper indeed, raising more than morale.” He winked then turned to heave a bulging sack, tipping it over the sleigh where gifts poured out for far longer than was possible, being swallowed by the leather sack without a visible bulge forming.Jane forgot her annoyance at the sight of the big guy's tensed muscles as he moved the heavy loads. She instantly imagined how strong he must be, and she wanted to run her hands and maybe even her mouth over him.Enjoying his flattery, she completed a spin and hurried toward him. She leaned against the sleigh to watch him as he loaded it, trying not to lick her lips like the big bad wolf, ready to pounce.“Thank you, and I'd love to be your little helper,” she said, thinking it would likely involve lots of rough sex. “I like this, but it's a bit short, don't you think?” she asked, placing her palms flat on the sleigh floor and bending to wiggle her rear end at him.“I think it's about perfect,” he disagreed, slapping her round butt resoundingly. He dropped the sack, both hands free to knead and grope her as he held her in place.She glimpsed her unfamiliar blond reflection in a silver sleigh bell and looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, what's up with the blonde hair, anyway? I mean, it looks good on you, but I don’t want to get slammed with all those crappy blond jokes, you know?”“Would you believe I've never heard a blonde joke,” Nick told her, flexing his muscles until the leather jerkin creaked under the strain. “People must not think I'd be amused, I think your hair looks good like this anyway. Makes you look like a doll.” He winked at Jane as he ran one big hand up her back, between her bare shoulders and into her hair before closing it into a fist. “Now, little imp, what do you want from Santa?”Jane's head tilted back and she quickly forgot about the color of her hair as she thought about what she wanted from him. She wanted him to have his way with her, maybe on a furry rug by a romantic fire. She closed her eyes and pictured it, the huge sexy Viking on top of her, pressing her into the fur.“Well, maybe since you only come during the Christmas season, we should make it more about you. I really want you to do whatever you'd like, and I bet I'll love it...”“Then we'll go to extremes,” he decided, smiling as he turned her head to look her in the eye. “I'm going to beat that behind as red as your dress then take you harder than ever. But let's give you a gift too.” He winked and nodded across the room to where a blazing fire, and fireplace, had just appeared in the wall. A huge polar bearskin rug lay on the floor, the snarling head holding a hefty candy striped paddle between its teeth.Nick gave her a gentle push in its direction. “Swing those hips as you go, it's hot enough to melt the snow outside,” he teased.With mixed feelings of terror and excitement, she gave a quick nod then jumped up to kiss him before heading to the fire. Nick was so perfect and she really did want to please him, but she was nervous about the whole "Beating your butt red" part. The rest of it sounded excellent, though.Her hips swayed enticingly as she walked, and she smiled at the romantic set-up he'd provided. She stopped in front of the fire and dropped to her knees on the furry rug, hoping she could distract him with her oral skills. As she watched him and grinned, Jane casually pulled the paddle out of the bear's mouth and tossed it into the fire.

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Season's Beatings

First Edition

By Ryan Andrews & Randi Holiday

Cover art by Randi Holiday

© 2016, Ryan Andrews & Randi Holiday

~ All characters in this book are 18 or older. ~

It was nearly Christmas, and Jane thought that having no money to buy gifts was a real joy killer. It didn't help that her son, Zack, was leaving for his dad's house and wouldn't return until New Years Eve.

She didn't have a lot to look forward to, and tried not to think about the remainder of the year. Spending the last part of December alone and working at the library in her spare time just plain sucked. She was a lusty woman, but fighting off her lecherous boss was always a real bummer.

"There goes my new hobby," she complained, watching Zack pack away the game system with the enchanted controller. Now she'd have to wait until after Christmas to get any sexual gratification. "Did you ever get Damien's game back from your friend?" she asked, looking at the man's framed photo on her nightstand.

Zack grabbed his suitcase and headed out the door, frowning back at his mom. "Why do you keep calling it that? It's weird. You act like he's a real person, mom."

Jane couldn't tell him, because the answer was simply that the man in question had screwed her senseless about a week ago. He’d used his cyborg enhanced body to bring her to extreme orgasms and she’d used her natural curves on him, and now she couldn't get him off her mind.

After Zack drove away, she got out their Christmas decorations. There were still a few hours of daylight left and Jane hoped to get the front of the house done as she dragged the ladder through the deep snow then grabbed the big plastic Santa.

She climbed up onto the treacherous roof, making her way to the chimney. For once, she was actually missing Zack's dad, because this had always been his job. Usually she didn't miss him at all, because the jerk hadn't given her one orgasm during their entire marriage.

When she made it to the chimney, the snow on the sloped roof was up to the top of her winter boots. The arctic wind blasted her, diligently trying to knock her off the roof to her death.

Jane slammed the plastic Santa down and used a strand of lights to sloppily tie him to the chimney. She smiled, picturing the exact opposite in her head. "Oh, God. I'm truly demented, thinking about Santa tying me to a chimney," she muttered, already knowing that her dirty mind knew no bounds.

The Santa flickered briefly, and Jane let go of the chimney in surprise, because the darn thing wasn't plugged in yet. "What the heck?" she said, looking for the end of the cable, just to be sure. Confirming it was unplugged, she hesitated then slapped Santa's plastic face a few times, but it remained unlit. Feeling incredibly creeped out, she tossed the cord toward the ladder and turned to make her way down.

As she took her first step, it felt just like she'd been pushed and she screamed, falling forward into a tumbling roll down the steep roof. Her horny and way too brief life flashed before her eyes as she went over the edge. When she landed flat on her back in a huge drift, the wind was knocked out of her and she squeezed her eyes closed as she assessed the damage.

A burly arm reached into the drift, catching her hand and hauling her free easily. The leather of the fur mitten was rough on her palm as she opened her eyes. Her helper was a tall man, well over six feet and built like a rugby player. Ice blue eyes glinted from under a fur lined hat of burgundy leather, matching his sleeveless jerkin perfectly.

“Up you get, Jane,” he commented, “no harm done. I'm Nick.” A grin blazed from his thick blond beard, the hair so pale it was nearly as white as his teeth. “Work to be done though, come inside and keep me company until I'm free?”

He turned and gestured at a long, low, Nordic style hall made of whole tree trunks and garlanded with fresh holly and mistletoe. The roof, what could be seen of it under the snow, was thatched with deep green fir branches and a lantern burnt cheerily over the wide door. Nick stepped into its shelter, kicking the snow from his heavy leather boots as he impatiently waited for Jane to move.

The man was perfectly gorgeous but Jane had no idea where he'd come from. "Hi, Nick. Thank you for helping me. Your house looks really warm and welcoming, but where'd it come from?”