S.J. Warner's Blog, page 7

Spark by Allana Walker #CinnamonTreats

Danika

I sit absentmindedly channel surfing, I’m going out of my mind!

It’s Saturday night and I’m stuck in my apartment. I should be getting ready to have an amazing time with Rach at ‘Treats’ the new male strip show Christmas special that’s on tonight, but no here I am!

Why you ask? Well, because my mom has banned me from going out that’s why! She said and I quote;

‘You need to stop getting off your face drunk and sleeping around to get over Gregory. Give your flower a break. You’ll need to keep it as new as possible for your future husband.’

I know right? Embarrassing. I actually laughed in her face thinking she was joking, until I looked at her face, it was as serious as if she were telling me that someone had died. I relented with a roll of my eyes. I’m acting my age, getting drunk and making stupid mistakes. She thinks I have a problem and still trying to get over Greg, but I’m not, it’s been four years, I’m over him and his Neanderthal ways. Me man, you woman, you stay in kitchen make cinnamon twists! He had this idea that we would get married, I would stay at home and clean the house and raise a hoard of kids. Needless to say I told him to go find a woman who was willing to live like that because I certainly wasn’t. I was cut up at first, we had been together for a year, I love him, but I don’t think I was in love with him anymore. Besides she doesn’t know what really what went on in our relationship and that’s the way it’s staying.

Do I want to find ‘the one’? Yes I do! I would love that more than anything but it just hasn’t happened, I thought I had found him at one point with Gregory, but nope the flames went out as quick as they were lit. I thought I could get away with sneaking out, 27 years old and have my own apartment to sneak out of? What a joke! But nope she called all the bars and clubs and told them not to let me in until she said otherwise. Damn having a brother big in the Club business.

Gah I hate my Mom sometimes. No, that’s a lie. I love her to death.

My cell beeps alerting me to a text message.

*What are you up to? B x*

I can’t help the stupid grin that appears on my face. I’ve been on a couple of dates with Bradley and I’ve really enjoyed them. He funny, charming and so hot! My heart rate picking up just thinking about him, what’s that all about?

*Bored. Going crazy. You? D x*

*Was thinking about you. B x*

I feel a blush raise on my cheeks.

*That’s dangerous, lol. What you thinking about? D x*

*Funny. You want to do something? B x*

I stare at my phone in disbelief, my palms start to sweat and my heart pounds hard so hard that if I was a cartoon you’d see it beating outside. Shit! Mom! I can’t tell him I have to ask my mom first, I’ll look pathetic.

I scroll through my phone and call my mom, she answers on the second ring.

“The answer is no.” She says and I can hear to the amusement in her voice. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“You don’t know what I’m going to ask yet. I could be away to ask you if you wanted to go see Tom Jones in concert with VIP access for all you know and you’ve just said no.” I tease.

“Very funny Danika. I know you’re calling to beg me to let you out. Not happening.”

“Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.” I sigh picking at an invisible piece of lint. I understand why she’s doing it but Bradley could be the one and she’s standing in the way of that I see won’t let me out. “I have a date tonight.”

Silence. “Really?” she asks. “You have a date and you’re not just saying it so I let you out?” she’s acting like this is some kind of ploy and she’s shocked that I even have a date. Gee thanks mom!

“I’ll take a selfie if you don’t believe me.”

“What?! I do not need to see evidence of that young lady.” She screeches down the phone. I double over with laughter when I realise what she thinks I mean.

“Mom! No!” I’m laugh. “A picture taken by me of me and my date!”

“Oh! Well selfie means something completely different in my day.”

“Well, will you let me out?” I ask. Jesus! I realize how truly absurd this whole thing is! I’m 27 and asking my mom who lives 10 miles away from me permission to leave my apartment. “Mom, you do understand how ridiculous all this is, don’t you?”

She sighs. “Your father and Adam said the same thing.”

“Mom, I’m just having fun. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m always safe when I go out and I usually end up at The Escape. Alex is there most of the time to keep an eye on me.”

“But what if one night he’s not there or you go home with a serial killer.” I hear Dad chuckle in the background. “It’s not funny,” She scolds him.

“Mom, I’m going on a date with Bradley. I won’t be coming home with anyone.” I reassure her. Well maybe Bradley will come back, butterflies start fluttering in my stomach thinking about him spending the night.

“Fine.” She sighs.

“Mom, I love you.”

“I love you to sweetie. Stay safe.” We hang up.

*Sure. D x*

*Good. I’ll pick you up at 2.30pm. B x*

I look down at my watch and see it’s 12.30pm. I leap off of my sofa and run to my closet and start pulling all of my clothes out until there’s a huge pile all over the floor. 2 hours! He isn’t giving me a lot of time to get ready!

I stand staring at the vast amount of clothes strewed all over my room. Shit! An hour and a half to go! What do I wear? I have no clue where we’re going or what we’re doing. I grab my cell from my bedside table and text Rach.

*S.O.S. Need help!!! Date with B!*

I just set my cell down I hear my front door open and Rach is standing in front of me.

“Jeez did you walk through the wall?” I tease.

“I’m your fairy godmother, I’ll make your wish come true!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I giggle.

“Do you want my help or not.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Please!” I beg. She claps her hands like a seal and starts rummaging through my clothes.

“Ah ha!” She shouts in victory holding up a dress I haven’t worn in 3 years.

“No way! I can’t wear that!”

“Why not?” She smirks knowing fine well why!

“The last time I had that dress on I slept with a guy barely out of his teens!”

“I bet Bradley would love to rip you right out it!” she winks walking past me pushing the dress into my arms. I sigh knowing I won’t win this. “Besides your ass and boobs look shit hot in it!” She shouts from my closet. “You need to show him what treats you have under all these clothes!”

Rach has worked her magic again by doing my hair, make-up and waxed every inch of me. I called her every name I could think of with every hair pulled, she laughed like the sadistic person she is!

“There.” She grins at me putting my necklace on she had bought me for my birthday. It’s white gold half a heart with my initial and birthstone and she has the other half, because well, she’s my other half. “What’s wrong Dan?” She frowns when she sees me fidgeting.

“I’m nervous.” I admit. “Is that silly? I mean I’ve been on dates before, but this feels different.” My voice higher than normal. “I haven’t felt like this since Greg. No, that’s not true. I’ve never felt like this.” I start chewing on my thumbnail. I’m terrified!

“Dan,” she reaches over, takes my hand to stop me from ruining my manicure. “This is a good thing.” She beams at me. “It’s exciting.” She bounces on the balls of her feet excitedly.

I stare at her, my heart hammers against my chest, I start feeling faint. This can’t normal. Can it? Rach guides me to my bed sitting me down.

“You really like him huh?”

I rub my hands down my thighs and nod.

“I get a funny feeling when I hear his name.” I explain. “I can’t be falling for him after just a few weeks, right?” I look at my best friend hoping she can shed some light on what I’m feeling.

She takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Dan, how many romance books and movies have you watched?” She lifts an eyebrow. I’ve read over a hundred romance books and watched even more romance movies.

“I know, but those things don’t happen in real life.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants Dan.” She pats my leg standing to leave. “Just enjoy and be yourself Danika. You never know, he could be the one that you’ve been dreaming of.”

She pulls me in for a hug and leaves me to my thoughts.

***

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, “You can do this!” I whisper into the mirror looking at my reflection, smoothing my hands down my jeans, I hear a knock at the door.

I open the door and smile when I see Bradley holding a bunch of flowers. Holy shit he looks amazing, wearing a maroon shirt that made his chocolate brown eyes pop, and a pair of slacks and chucks, I smile at his choice of footwear.

“Wow.” He looks up and down my body. I changed out of the dress Rach picked out, I looked outside and seen the snow begin to fall, besides I wasn’t sure where we were going. So I opted for my skinny jeans, grey jumper that falls off of one shoulder and my grey slouch boots. “You look beautiful.” I feel my face heat with embarrassment.

“Thanks,” I bit my lip and open the door wider to let him in.

“These are for you.” He smiles bending down to kiss my cheek handing me the flowers. Forget me nots and white roses. My heart swells, he remembered me telling him what my favourite flowers were.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” I bring them to my nose and breathe in. The scent of the roses hit my nose causing me to sneeze.

“Bless you.”

I sneeze a couple more times, damn it! This is embarrassing. I fill the vase full of water and place the flowers in.

“Sorry.” I apologise and wash my hands.

“Why are you apologising?” he sounds amused. I look over at him sat on one of the breakfast stools leaning forward with his arms crossed in front of him. I can’t help staring at him. His dark hair, bulging biceps marked with a tattoo peeking out of his dress shirt, his panty melting smile and his chocolate brown eyes framed with long lashes. I wonder if everything else is as long as his eyelashes. “Danika?” Shit.

“Huh, um… I don’t know.” I stutter. He clearly caught me staring and checking him out.

“I was checking you out too.” He winks as he comes to stand next to me. We stand staring into each other’s eyes, the air starts to crackle with electricity. I swallow, what feels like my heart in my throat. God I want him to kiss me.

Licking my lips I try to tear my eyes away before I jump his bones. “We should go,” my voice comes out all breathy and weird. I cough to clear my throat still staring at his lips, silently begging for them to kiss me.

“We should.” He says lowly, he moves in closer mirroring my expression.

I jump when I hear a knock at my door and slink past Bradley to see who it is.

“Adam? What you doing here?” I ask confused as hell. “Is it mom? Dad?” I ask panicked at the thought of something happening to them. Mom works with patients with psychiatric disorders and Dad is a police officer, both equally dangerous lines of work.

“No they’re fine. I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out.” He walks in without an invite. Why can’t he go to Alex’s and bug him?

“I’ve got plans.” I race after him. Please don’t go in the kitchen. I silently plead.

“So I see.”

Bradley and Adam stare at each other for what seems forever. I haven’t told anyone but mom and Rach about Bradley and me yet. Why you ask? Well for one I don’t know what we are yet. Two, my three brothers and my dad would give him the third degree on how they think he should treat me. I really like him, I don’t want them to scare him off with their stupid threats.

“Bradley,” Bradley holds out his hand for Adam to shake. Adam looks over to me and I plead with him to be nice and not be a dick. He reaches out and shakes it.

“Adam,” he looks him up and down like he’s sizing him up. Don’t be a shithead I think to myself, hoping that by some miracle he’s started reading minds. He pulls him closer, still holding Bradley’s hand. “You dating my sister?” Here we go!

“Adam!” I scold. He doesn’t even take his eyes off of Bradley. I can’t believe he’s doing this! Neither of them pay any attention to me so I flop down on my sofa waiting on Bradley to run for the hills. I can come up with ways to kill my over-protective brother while that happens, I’m sure mom will forgive me when I tell her he scared off the one guy I can see a future with. Whoa! Where did that come from?

“Yes.”

I decide there’s too much testosterone going on in my apartment so I break them up. “We should get going Bradley.” Walking over I take Bradley’s other hand and pull him towards the door.

“Look after my little sister! I know how to kill someone and make it look like an accident.” Adam shouts. I text Rach to tell her that Adam is at my place and if she could lock the door when they go back to hers. They’ve been dating for about 6 months now. It was weird at first but I’ve grown accustomed to them being together.

“I’m sorry about him. He just gets over-protective of me.” I feel the need to explain Adams behaviour.

“You really need to stop apologising sneezy.” I look at him, he has a smirk on his face obviously loving his new nickname for me.

“Whatever Rocky.” I giggle shaking my head thinking back to our first encounter. He punched a guy for making inappropriate comments to me and touching me even when I said no. He chuckles as we enter the elevator. The atmosphere sky rockets ten-fold as soon as the doors close I risk a glance over to Bradley and I see he’s already looking at me, I smile shyly and revert my eyes back to looking at my shoes. Jeez woman up Danika! I scold myself.

We walk to his car, the crisp November air leaves me regretting my attire choice.

“Where we going?” I enquire. He grins and looks at me from the corner of his eye and taps the side of his nose.

“You’ll see.” He winks.

We drive for another 10 minutes, I gasp when I see what we pull up to.

“I remember you telling me you wanted to go see a classic movie at The Redford Theatre.” He looks at me with a sense of pride, his eyes gleam watching my reaction. I can’t help my actions, I throw my arms around his neck and whisper thank you in his ear. His arms come around my waist and his face in the crook of my neck.

This has always been a dream of mine to come back here and live out my childhood memory of mom and me coming here to watch Casablanca when I was 10, but with my schedule at the hospital and moms schedule we never have the time to come back.

“What movie are we seeing?” I ask giddily as I pull away from him bouncing from foot to foot, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.

“It’s a Wonderful Life.” He says as we walk hand in hand towards the theatre doors. I stop in my tracks, he turns looking at me perplexed as to why I’ve stopped. “Danika?” My eyes well up, he’s too good to be true. Pull yourself together. “Hey. What’s wrong?” He stands in front of me placing his free hand on the side of my face.

I shake my head, “Nothing. It’s just you seem too good to be true.” I admit. My grandma always says, if something is too good to be true, then it probably is. He smiles a little and kisses me lightly on the lips.

“This is me. I want to spoil my girl.” Hearing him call me his girl does things to me. The butterflies feel like a herd of elephants stomping in my stomach. “Now come on, let’s get warm and eat our weight in popcorn.” Flutters of snow begin to fall as we walk into the theatre.

***

We barely make it out of the elevator and we begin stripping each other’s clothes off.

He slams me to the wall kissing me hard. His body pressed against mine trapping me with his arms at either side of my head. “You’re so fucking beautiful!” His eyes never leaving mine as he leans in kissing me slowly and tenderly. I bring my arms up and around his neck my fingers running through his hair, scratching gently with my finger nails. He groans against my mouth as his tongue slides between my lips and begins to explore my mouth like it’s searching for its mate.

My eyes roll to the back of my head, my body starts to tingle all over. I feel like I’m a volcano ready to erupt and he’s igniting a flame that has been dormant for years. All I needed was a spark and here he is!

“We need to get to my apartment.” I whisper against his mouth, reluctantly pulling away from him.

He nips my bottom lip gently and runs his tongue over it to soothe the area. Jesus!

“Don’t want to give your neighbours a show do we?” He give me a sideways smile, I almost cum right then and there when he looks at me with hooded eyes.

“Why not?” I kiss along his jaw. “Might be the most action they’ve seen in a long time.”

I hear a click of a door opening and a waft of cinnamon hits my nose. Seriously! How the hell can she not have a headache with that smell?! If it’s this strong out here, Lord only knows what it’s like in there!

“You kids nowadays have no shame!” She scolds us. I turn to see her with her arms folded, hair in rollers with a net over it, a purple knee length robe and matching fluffy slippers. “Coming in at all hours having intercourse for all the world to see.” She tuts, shaking her head and slams the door. Bradley and I look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Who the hell was that?”

“Meet my nosey neighbour, Mrs Twitcher.” I turn to unlock my door. Once in I start to feel really insecure and have a weird feeling in my stomach. What if I’m not what he’s looking for? Does he get the same feelings as I do when I’m in the room? I’m not the skinniest of girls, I have hips, I have an ass, I have big boobs, and I have a little meat on my stomach.

What the hell? Where has this come from? I’ve brought a few guys back here but none near as amazing as Bradley. He’s kind, sweet, incredibly handsome and to top it off… a fireman! He needs to put out this fire I have going on in my panties!

“So…” I swallow in an attempt to swallow my nerves. I rub my hand up and down my arm, avoiding looking into his eyes. I get so nervous around him sometimes, I feel like I’m back in high school on my first date and other times I can be the most confidant woman alive. It’s a weird feeling.

“So…” He walks towards me until he’s standing directly in front of me. I just stare at his broad chest, his top buttons undone so a little chest hair poked out. He’s not like a bear or anything, a light brush of hair, which is just enough.

“Do you… um… Do you want a drink?” I stutter walking around him towards the kitchen. “Shit.” I whisper gripping the sides of the counter top. What the hell is wrong with you! You have an Adonis of a man standing in front of you, instead of jumping his bones you avoid him by asking him if he wants a drink! You should be drinking him! A voice scolds me.

I feel arms circle my waist, hot breath on my neck. “Everything okay?” he says softly in my ear.

“Yeah. Just need a glass of water.” I lie. I needed a breather. I turn, he’s there directly in front of me again. I’m trapped between his body and the kitchen isle, nowhere to go, the air is stifling and crackling like little firecrackers are going off about to go into full fireworks any moment. My heart gallops inside my chest, never in my life has a man had this much of an effect on me. I’ve been with my fair share of men but Bradley? He’s something else.

He gently places his hands on either side of my face, tipping my head up, my eyes still downcast until he speaks again. “You don’t know how beautiful you are do you?” he says softly tugging a lose piece of hair behind my ear. I look up, looking into his chocolate brown eyes that are staring back at me. “You are Danika.” His kisses me lightly on the lips sending shockwaves through my lips down to between my legs. Shit! He could say anything to me now and I will be putty in his hands.

I want to believe him, I really do. I know I’m not ugly but something sticks in the back of my mind from my past that’s reluctant to agree with him. I put on this front to everyone else I’m this confident young woman but in reality I have a lot of self-doubt like everyone else. He brings his forehead down to mine.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are.” It’s like he can see through my façade. He takes my hand. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Second door on the right.” My voice sounds husky.

He leads me to my bedroom, flicking on the light as he closes the door and backs me up against it. “Danika. I’m going to ruin you for every other man you will ever come across, but if I have it my way the only man who will be doing this to you will be me!” He brushes his finger tip along my jaw, down my neck to my collar bone. My breath hitches at his vow. “No man will ever feel the same.” Cocky bastard! I love it! Shit, I’m so confused, one minute I’m insecure the next I’m this confident sex kitten. He kisses along the path his finger just made. He makes his way back up to my lips. “Are you prepared for what I have been wanting to do to you since I seen you in that hot as hell Poison Ivy costume?”

“Yes,” I murmur with my eyes closed waiting on his kiss. I feel his hand move round the waist band of my jeans, he unbuttons them and siding his hand inside, his fingertips graze over my white lace panties. A moan escapes my mouth, I open my eyes to see him staring intently at me, his eyes turning almost black with lust. I’m so focused on him I don’t feel him move his hand into my panties and lightly brush over my opening. He teases me open, pushes a finger into me followed by a second stretching me. I take a sharp intake of breath. His thumb teases my swollen clit with gently circles and just enough pressure.

“Fuck!” I moan out as he continues to torture me with his fingers.

“You like that?”

“Oh God… God yes!” I grip his shoulders as he ups his speed. “I’m close.” As quick as I said those words he removes his fingers. I’m about to complain but his lips are on me before I can say anything. The kiss starts off as a tender slow kiss but quickly turns into a hot, mad passionate kiss. Our tongues battling against one another like they’re battling in a war. He grabs my leg behind my knee hitching it around his waist pressing me further into the door. I can feel his rock hard erection through his slacks, begging to be free. He rocks his hips obviously wanting some sort of friction. He reaches down to the hem of my sweater, pulling it up agonisingly slow, his fingers brushing my waist and ribs, he breaks the kiss looking at me as he pulls it completely off, he brings his hands up and pushes the straps of my bra off of my shoulder, lightly kissing each shoulder, he hooks his thumbs in the sides of the my jeans pulling them down along with my soaking panties, I kick my boots and other garments off leaving me in my lace bra. My chest rises and falls rapidly as my heart beats wildly against my rib cage. He stands back looking at me, I realize that the light is still on I reach to switch it off.

“Don’t.” His voice thick with need. “I want to admire your hot as hell body.” A blush creeps up on my cheeks, it’s so hot you could probably fry an egg on them. “You don’t need to be shy around me Danika. You’re beautiful.” He slides one hand into my hair, using the other to tilt my head making me look at him. “I’ll continue to tell you until you believe it, not only in here,” he touches my temple indicating to my head, his touch feather light as he makes his way down the side of my face, my neck, my collar bone leaving goosebumps in its wake. Stopping at the top of my breast, placing his hand flat on my chest, my heart hammering against his hand. What he says next has me swooning. “But in here too.”

How the hell did I get so lucky with this guy? I mean seriously! He’s like a character in one of the many romance movies I’ve watched. Suddenly, he falls to his knees in front of me lifting my left foot kissing up my calf stopping to kiss the sensitive part of my knee, then continues up my inner thigh. He kisses around my pussy, teasing me relentlessly. Bradley places his hands on my hips to keep me still as he tortures me.

“Please,” I beg, my voice sounding desperate. Fuck I am! I need him to give me this release that I crave! I need either his fingers, his tongue or his dick in me. He can do all three for all I care. I just need a release! “Bradley, please!” I beg once again.

“Tell me what you want.” He mutter lowly against my skin, kissing down the apex of my thigh.

I’ve never done this before, usually I’m drunk off my face and the guy just gets down to it! Even with Greg it was just the same, silently make me cum then went to sleep.

“Tell me what you want.” I stay silent. “I’m not doing anything until you tell me!” his lips leave my skin and he sits back on his heels. Looking at his determined face telling me he’s serious. I muster up the courage to tell him, only it comes out much harsher than I intended.

“Fuck me with your tongue, your fingers, your cock! I don’t care just make me cum!” I look down at his amused face when he doesn’t do anything. His eyes sparkle and a sly grin appears on his beautiful face.

“Your wish is my command,” his tongue is on me in seconds, he flicks my clit making me hiss and my hands instinctively go to his hair pulling at it as he continues his assault. Shit, I’m so close. I rock my pussy against his face begging for more friction, his hold on my hips gets stronger to stop me moving. “Stay still.” His voice muffled against my skin.

Thank God he’s holding me up because if he continues teasing me like this I’ll be a puddle on the floor. “Please.” I beg once again, my head falling back against the door. He sucks, licks and nips my clit until it all becomes too much I explode screaming out his name.

© Allana Walker 2015

For more from Allana here…

Breaking Free (A Fight for Freedom #1)
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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorallanawalker
Twitter: https://twitter.com/allanaw15
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14255831.Allana_Walker

Remembering by Angel #CinnamonTreats

Remember when

Holiday memories

Warmed the soul

Mama was baking

On Floured stone

Aromas of

Cinnamon treats

Filled a home

Picking a tree was

A special day

Pine cone covered

Walkways

Lead our way

Snow covered

Rooftops

Glistened the

Landscape

Family’s travels

Took all day

All these treasures

Are stored away

As a single tear

Runs astray

I miss those days

When times were

Simple

We cherished

Each day

Because

No one looked

At their phones

Or cared

What strangers

Had to say

Family meant

Everything

When did we

Lose. Our way

© Angel 2015.

TWITTER : @AngelPoets

INSTAGRAM : Angel.Poet

WORDPRESS: Angelwingspoetry.com

FACEBOOK :Angel Wings Poetry

Cinnamon And Spice by Adhamh #CinnamonTreats

Cinnamon, spice and everything nice

Covering my lips and fingertips

It’s a true delight, yummy and light

Smeared on my face, as she takes her place

Having a seat to offer me a treat

As her petals unfold, my eyes behold

Cinnamon, spice and everything nice

Oh boy, oh boy! What a feast to enjoy

Let it begin, so it can cover my chin

and coat my lips and my fingertips

No words said, as her lips spread

Before my eye, while I softly sigh

Cinnamon, spice and everything nice

It’s my favorite treat, what I like to eat

Mine to devour, for hour upon hour

It’s such a sight, this sensual delight

The perfect gift, if you catch my drift?

I intend to savor the wonderful flavor

Cinnamon, spice and everything nice

Could it perchance make my senses dance?

It’s all so surreal, having her kneel

Firmly in place, pressed against my face

She starts to shake as her body quakes

Letting me eat, her special holiday treat

Cinnamon, spice and everything nice

© Àdhamh, Southside of Heaven 2014.

Find more from Àdhamh by clicking here

Red And Blue by Nina D’Arcangela #CinnamonTreats

Red and Blue

Nina D’Arcangela

I curl up next to the fireplace, rest my head against the surround. A goblet of heavy merlot in my hand; heavy for its body or heavy for my longing, I cannot say. As I stare into the crackling blaze, my mind wanders. So many memories from years gone by, so much love shared here, in this very room. My soul shrieks with grief as I collapse into a ball, sobbing.

The fire now a blur through wet eyes, my head lolls and I glance toward the tree with its twinkling lights, glittering balls and brightly wrapped packages tucked neatly below it. You were always such a perfectionist. My eyes flutter shut as the day you dressed the tree forces itself upon my mind. You were so happy, so blissful to pick the largest of the crop. I recall joking that one of us would have to move out so the tree could move in. You kissed me with icy cold lips and a bright red nose. Little did I know how soon I would long to feel that frigid touch once more. Your enthusiasm knowing no bounds, you spent the next week arranging everything just so; making sure that the colorful glass baubles were placed on the tree with precision; everything to an exacting measure. I recall playfully moving an ornament when you were not home, only to enter the room later that evening and find it placed back in its original position. The gifts! Oh, how you tortured me over the gifts long before the season began. A sad smile steals across my lips as I think of the hours you spent fretting over the perfect treats for each of our friends. As I sip from my glass, a slight chuckle escapes me only to end in a bleat of agony as I recall your distress over wrapping each gift in the perfect color foil. God, how you loved this day.

I think back upon the last evening I saw you. I was standing at the island between this room and the kitchen preparing dinner; you remembered one final detail that you simply could not do without. I kissed you as you bounded past me, told you not to be long and that I loved you. You grabbed your coat from the hook and turned to me, purse in hand, golden locks bouncing and smiled before replying as you always did – not nearly the way I love you. I smiled back; you left, the scent of cinnamon and clove lingering in your wake. Two hours later, a knock sounded on the door. I wasn’t worried, you often became infatuated with something or other and lost track of the time, or lost your keys. As I moved to open the front door, I noticed the faint flicker of red and blue light drifting in through the balcony doors. Seeing the officers standing upon the threshold, I walked to the glass, placed my palms and forehead to it, and knew in that moment… you were gone. My world began to sway. When I awoke after passing out, the officers helped me to the couch and explained that there was an accident at the corner – our corner, and a young woman had been hit by a car. You were that young woman.

My eyes crack open seeking a red light on the tree, your tree – our tree. But instead, my sight finds the red fairy lights you used to decorate the balcony. Barely able to stand, I stumble to the sliding doors. As I fumble to open them through my tears, the merlot in my glass pours onto the crème colored carpet. My addled mind tells me how angry you’ll be if I don’t clean the deep burgundy spill right away. Finally managing the lock, I step through onto the bitterly cold veranda. Standing at the rail, I exist in a halo of red light, my long chestnut mane whipping in the icy wind. Another balcony, one belonging to our neighbor, is adorned in blue twinkling lights. I wonder why I’d not noticed it before now. The blue and red lights blur together as my inebriated mind struggles to adjust. Five stories below, more lights twinkle, cars rush past; the ground wears a fresh blanket of snow. I’m so tired, and the blanket seems so inviting. Please, don’t go without me – words I should have spoken that night. Letting myself lean forward, a blur of red and blue swirls all around me. I grasp the railing, sink to my knees and crawl back inside. Too much a coward to follow you; too desperate to chance an existence without the memory of you.

About Nina D’Arcangela:

Nina D’Arcangela is a quirky horror writer who likes to spin soud rending snippets of despair. She reads anything from splatter matter to dark matter. She’s also an UrbEx adventurer who suffers from an unquenchable wanderlust. She loves to photograph abandoned places, bits of decay, and old grave yards. Nina is a co-owner of Sirens Call Publications, a co-founder of the horror writer’s group Pen of the Damned, as well as the owner and resident anarchist of Dark Angel Photography. Find her, follow her, stalk her, talk to her… have a nibble, she definitely bites back!

Personal Blogs & Social Media:

sotetangyal.wordpress.com – Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel

ninadarc.wordpress.com  – Spreading the Writer’s Word

darcnina.wordpress.com – The Road to Nowhere…

thissquirrelsnuts.com – This Squirell’s Nuts

penofthedamned.com – Pen of the Damned

Twitter: @Sotet_Angyal

or on Facebook and Google+ as Nina D’Arcangela

Publishing Web Site & Blog:

www.sirenscallpublications.com – Sirens Call Publications

sirenscallpublications.wordpress.com – The Sirens Song

Christmas Ice by Lizzie Ashworth #CinnamonTreats

When Alise planned this self-imposed writer’s retreat, the scenario involved hours of masterful effort. The story would unfold its rich tapestry and at week’s end, she would return home with a completed draft. She sighed and stared at the wintery woodland outside the cabin window. Hours of effort—yeah, effort to sit here and force herself back to the cursor flickering on her laptop screen. Hours while she chased unruly characters who evidently had no intention of sharing their thoughts or plans with her.

Thankless churls.

A loud knock rattled the heavy door and she jumped. Muttering under her breath, she jerked the door open. A blast of cold wet air swept in as she faced the park maintenance guy. He stood there bundled up in a knit cap, thick jacket, and carrying an armload of firewood. Glistening sleet pellets dotted his wet hat, shoulders, and cheeks.

“Getting nasty out here, thought you’d need some more wood,” he said.

Like the previous two brief occasions of their interaction, Alise floundered for words as her gaze locked on the rugged features of his face. Not exactly weathered, but hardened as if he’d seen too much. The pale blue eyes that had riveted her attention before appeared gray today, probably a reflection of the low-lying clouds. He had a presence about him.

All of which made it damn hard to be mad. But she should be mad. She stepped back as he stamped his boots, waving her hand to show him in. “I still have wood,” she said.

He piled the wood on the hearth beside her existing stack and studied the fireplace. She had let the fire go out. He looked at her and frowned. “The temperature’s dropping.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. He was ruining her flow. Every minute he lingered took her further from the story. Made him the story, which could possibly be the most ridiculous detour so far.

“Then I’ll burn more,” she said, emphasizing each word. He must be used to socializing with cabin renters, judging by his teasing smile and cocky attitude. “I’m trying to write. It’s not convenient to be interrupted in the middle of my work.”

“You’ll have a hell of a time writing if you’re cold,” he said, glancing around the cabin.

“I’ll manage.” She went to the door and stood with it open.

“Really?” His irritating grin grew wider. “And if you need more wood?”

“I’ll call management. Now, if you don’t mind.” She motioned toward the door.

He laughed and ambled toward the door, sizing her up as he passed and turning to stand in the opening. His frame blocked the doorway. An instantaneous image formed in her mind of being snuggled up against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. Her eyelids sagged.

“Ms. Johnson, I am the management.” He stuck out his hand. “Justin Evers. Everyone else is gone for Christmas break.”

“Thank you so much. I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” she said in a syrupy tone. His calloused hand swallowed hers, incongruously warm and sending tingles up her arm. She jerked out of the hand clasp. “Worst case scenario, I’ll call you if I need help.”

His dazzling smile rocked her back, a taunting expression in his gaze. Briefly, she considered meeting his flirtation and upping the ante. Make demands and watch him squirm. She suppressed a smile and inched forward with the door.

“You’ll need to come find me,” he said. “The office is closed.”

She straightened so that her breasts pressed the front of her sweater. Two could play this game. His eyes followed her action then shifted to a searing stare.

“Where exactly would I find you?” she said, fighting to hold back a smile.

He turned and walked down a few of the stone steps leading downhill from the cabin. She pulled her cardigan tight around her chest and followed. Sleet landed inside her collar.

“See that cabin there near the creek?”

She peered through the tree trunks. “Yes, okay,” she said, turning to hurry back to the cabin.

The weather hardly crossed her mind for the next few hours as she pushed through several scenes. Her male character kept taking on characteristics of Justin Evers which she resolutely deleted only to find his glance or posture cropping up a few paragraphs down. Frozen precipitation continued its soothing patter as she worked. But when she finally stood up from her desk, the landscape surprised her. In the blue dusk, trees bowed under the weight of heavy ice. Snow covered in the rocky ground in a thick blanket of white.

His smug I-told-you-so whispered in her ears as she crammed paper and kindling into the hulking stone fireplace. An hour later with escaped smoke hovering near the ceiling and a few singed fingers, Alise watched flames leap among the logs. Which was a damn good thing, considering the creeping embrace of December in the rest of the cabin. She shivered.

~~~

A loud crash outside woke Alise. She sat up in bed. The fire had died down. Futile efforts to switch on the bedside lamp brought her fully awake—no power. Wrapped in the comforter, she crouched at the stone hearth to add wood. Delicious warmth radiated through her socks as she watched flames build strength.

At first light, she clawed her way out of the blankets into an icy room. The fire had died down again. She dressed in double layers, rebuilt the fire, and stared out the window. Broken limbs lay everywhere. Shattered treetops hung at precarious angles. Another ear-splitting crack echoed up the hillside, followed by a dull thud.

And—no water. She heaved the cabin door open, shoving back a pile of snow which she packed into a saucepan and melted in the coals. Amazing the simple pleasure of washing her face and hands with a hot cloth. Inspired by her inventiveness, she dangled a slice of bread over the flames on the end of a coat hanger then slathered it with butter and strawberry jam retrieved from the dark refrigerator.

“Yum,” she mumbled, wiping her fingers on her jeans.

The distant periodic sound of a chainsaw convinced her Justin would arrive at her doorstep at any moment, but noon passed and he hadn’t appeared. Hungry, bored, and vastly annoyed, she paced or stood at the window as if her frown could magically restore the world to its former functionality. A smattering of snow continued to fall.

Her firewood supply dwindled to four logs. Bundled in her coat and hat, Alise ventured outside and listened. No chainsaw. The extent of devastation shocked her. She slipped and slid down the hillside to peer toward Justin’s cabin. Smoke curled up from his chimney, a straight column in the windless afternoon.

“Jerk,” she muttered. “So much for taking care of your guests.”

Alise arrived at his cabin out of breath. Two horses whinnied from the adjacent corral. A dented older model pickup sat under a shed. Snow had been shoveled away from the porch.

She ripped off her glove and pounded on the door. A chair scraped, then nothing. She raised her fist to knock again. The door opened.

The sight of Justin, shirtless and grimacing as he leaned on the door knob, stole her breath.

“I…” she stammered.

“Come in.” He bowed and motioned her inside. “Sorry. I’m moving slow.”

Her gaze traveled down his jeans, which were folded halfway to the knee, and the cuff of insulated underwear, which was shoved to his calf. An Ace bandage wound around his ankle and foot.

“Minor mishap,” he said, raking his hand through short sun-bleached hair and scrubbing his after-five shadow as she took a few steps into the room. He glanced at her with an apologetic expression. “I’m guessing you don’t have power either.”

Flames leapt in his fireplace. A swing arm held a cast iron pot at the front edge of the flames and steam rose from its lid, sending a tantalizing aroma into the room. Half again larger than her one-room cabin, the living-kitchen area of this cabin exuded a comfortable lived-in air with exposed wood beams, a few potted plants and a coat rack bulging with jackets and rain gear. Kerosene lanterns sat on the coffee table and in the middle of the small dining table. A compact pine Christmas tree waited in the corner by the couch, undecorated.

“No power, no water.” She yanked off her knit cap and stuffed it in her coat pocket while tugging at the snaps of her coat. “What happened?”

He grinned and raised his eyebrows, pinning her with an intense blue stare. “Ice.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I mean your foot.”

He hobbled toward a chair positioned near the fireplace and a large pan of water. “I was cutting a tree and it rolled. I slid between two logs and fell. Dumb move.” He motioned to his couch which was littered with a thermal shirt, a pillow, and a stack of newspapers. “Take a seat.”

She moved a propped open book—The Annals of Imperial Rome, Tacitus—and eased onto the cushion, fighting the sensations that flooded through her. His scent. Details of his life. Her gaze kept returning to his bared shoulders, as magnificent as any of her books’ cover models. Light hair sprinkled across his chest and led her eyes to his belt line. The play of his muscle mesmerized her. She tore her stare back to the walls, the windows, anything.

What exactly were they going to do? Real problems had to be solved, not the least of which was regaining some stability in her pulse. She glanced up and caught his heated stare.

“What’s the plan?” she said, summoning a strict business-like approach. “What about water?”

“For now, we dip it out of the stream,” he said. “I’ve got a five-gallon container of drinking water in the back room. Toss me that shirt.”

She rolled the worn cotton fabric into a ball and threw it toward him, awkwardly missing his outreached hands and managing to land it squarely in the pan of water. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, leaping up and grabbing at the shirt as it sank into the water.

He nodded toward the near door. “There should be another one in the middle drawer.”

She tried not to meet his calculating gaze. Cold air in his bedroom soothed her heated face. She felt like a clumsy adolescent.

A big bed covered with a patchwork quilt took up most of the room. A chest of drawers crammed in close to the corner closet. A rack filled with guns occupied the wall above the chest. A small framed photograph portrayed a family of four, parents and two adolescent boys, faded the way old photos take on shades of gold. She recognized his face, young and full of mischief. Charming even then. She pulled open the drawer, retrieved a shirt, and hurried out of the room.

He had wrung out the shirt and, as she re-entered the room, was draping the wet fabric from the mantle. The play of muscles in his back stopped her in her tracks. Briefly closing her eyes, she tried to dismiss the feelings this man provoked. More than feelings. Her whole body responded.

She made a play of glancing at the newspapers as he pulled the shirt over his head. She wanted to touch him. Wanted everything. Her pulse drummed as she forced her eyes down.

“We can make it on my supplies until the power company gets here,” he said. “There’s a huge wood stack out back, enough to keep us warm…”

“We?” The word came out choked. She felt like a pawn on his chessboard. “Separately, you mean.”

He stared her down. “Twice as much wood to heat two places. Twice as much effort. There are two bedrooms, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I would be—uncomfortable. Plus my things…”

He held up his hands. “I’m not in any condition to bother you.”

“Meaning you would if you weren’t injured?” Her voice rose. “Bother me?”

He had the nerve to smile. “Pose any threat. I don’t molest women.” He folded his arms and sent her another of those riveting blue stares. “Unless they want to be molested.”

Her jaw dropped. She’d heard plenty of come-ons, wrote them, invented them. Why did this one leave her hot and momentarily speechless? “I certainly don’t,” she said, “and didn’t think you would. It’s just—we don’t know each other.”

He leaned forward and winced as he shifted his foot. “We could remedy that, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled. “Look, it’s better to prepare for the worst. It could be days before we get power. Water has to be carried and we have to stay warm. Before we can go anywhere, somebody’s got to do a lot of chainsaw work. Somebody being me. I suspect we’re not alone in this ice meaning we’re not likely to be rescued.”

She knew what he said was true—she’d hiked through the apocalyptic landscape just a half hour earlier. Still, she leapt up from the couch and went to the window trying to escape this need growing in her. Some primitive survival thing, he man, she woman. An annoying little voice asking ‘why not?’

Yes, it had been a long time. Yes, he attracted her in ways she hadn’t experienced in…well, a long time. If ever.

But.

He unfurled the bandage and gingerly massaged the ankle. Even from across the room, Alise could see the seriousness of the sprain. Swelling spread from the top of his foot to well past his ankle. Purple streaks branched over the skin. He must be in considerable pain.

He groaned as he lowered the foot into the pan of water, sucking air between his teeth. “Damn, that’s cold.”

“Why are you putting your whole foot in the water? Don’t you have an ice pack?”

“No ice pack,” he said tensely. “Would you mind stirring the stew?”

Big chunks of meat and vegetables filled the bubbling pot. Suddenly starving, Alise swallowed as she tapped the wooden spoon and resettled the heavy lid. Such a confusing situation. She wanted to take care of him.

“I’m making an ice pack,” she announced. “Where’s a hammer? Plastic bag and a towel?”

He watched with an amused expression as she worked. Ten minutes later, she helped him hobble to the couch where she cushioned his foot on the coffee table and positioned the makeshift pack around his ankle.

“You’re pretty efficient,” he remarked. “Thanks.”

“My intentions are purely selfish,” she replied. “The sooner you’re better, the sooner I can go home.”

“You paid for another three days.”

“I need to write,” she said. “I can’t write without power.”

“You could use a pencil.” He laughed and raised his hands. “Joking, don’t give me that stare. What do you write?”

“Sexy romance, stuff men don’t read.”

“I should have guessed,” he said.

“Romance happens to be the largest segment of the book market,” she said, straightening.

“No literary aspirations then?”

“All writing is literature unless you’re going to get academic about it. Are you a book snob?”

“I was under the impression that genre fiction wasn’t considered ‘literature,’” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers. “Moby Dick is literature.”

“Moby Dick is boring as hell,” she said. “So are War and Peace and the rest of the academic standards. Most people want easy entertainment. Thus the market.”

“I guess I’ve read as much Philp K. Dick and Raymond Chandler as the next guy.” He lifted the book from beside the newspapers. “Lately I’m into the Roman empire.”

Suddenly Alise felt very tired. She was hungry, her feet were cold, and she didn’t know what to do next. This man kept surprising her and she felt at odds with the world.

“Let’s eat,” he said, watching her closely. “Do you mind serving?”

The stew was delicious. They ate mostly in silence, randomly interrupted by distant crashes as more trees lost their fight against the ice.

“You should know it could take longer than three days,” he said, setting his empty bowl aside. “And I really could use your help. There’s a list of chores that have to be done before dark. Can you manage?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows. He made a move to stand up.

“No, for god’s sake, sit down. I’ll do it.”

“And be angry the whole time?”

“Don’t be silly,” she lied. “We’re both grownups.”

“You’ll need to feed the horses, break ice on their water trough, add more hay to their bedding. Get a couple of buckets of water from the stream,” he said, motioning. “Carry in wood plus more kindling. I need you to hike back to your cabin to drain back the water lines. Think you can handle all that?”

His eyes searched hers as he gave her details. She looked away, anxious to grab her coat and escape. Everything about him made her nervous. The way he looked at her as if he could read her mind. The way he moved with a wild animal kind of grace. His barely disguised desire. She needed to get away from him even if the outside air froze in her nose.

Darkness surrounded the cabin as she carried in the last armload of wood. Her back ached and her legs trembled but her accomplishments made her proud. Fire crackled and popped in the big fireplace, filling the room in a cozy glow. After retrieving more ice for another ankle pack, she shed her top layers and stood by the fire.

“Come over here,” he said in a husky voice. “That was a lot. At least I can loosen those shoulders for you.”

Firelight cast his features more sharply. He watched her with an expression she couldn’t easily define, something like curiosity. Or calculation. The whole situation stressed her out, not only that they had no phone and no way to get out but that simply looking at him sent her into sensory overload.

She perched on the edge of the couch, giving him her back. His hands dug into her tight muscles. It felt so good.

“I would have been in big trouble without you,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Had to be done,” she said, starting to move away. “Thanks for the massage.”

He gripped her shoulders and nestled his face in her hair. “Don’t go. I’m just getting started.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

His soft laugh rippled through the room. “Don’t be afraid. We’re here in this cabin for who knows how long. We should be on friendlier terms.” He cleared his throat and his hands stilled where he’d been rubbing the base of her skull. “But you’re pretending. Playing a game. Why?”

“I, that’s, no,” she sputtered, turning to face him. A brazen move on his part. “It’s not like that.”

“No attraction?”

His gaze penetrated her defenses. A dare. “Yes, there’s attraction. What’s your point? That we should jump into bed together?”

“Why not?”

Her pulse jumped and she crossed her arms. “And then what?”

“Why does there have to be a ‘then what’? Why can’t two adults have some fun, take it for what it’s worth? Don’t you write stuff like that?”

“Sex is part of what I write, but it’s really about relationships. About where things go from there.”

“Uh huh.” Firelight accented the creases in his cheeks when he smiled. “When you write, does the sex come first?”

“What does it matter? I write fiction.”

“What if the sex came first? Does that rule out a relationship?”

“I’m not sure why you’re stuck on this idea. You’re injured, and maybe a little bored with sitting, but I’m not a sex doll you can just blow up in bed and take your pleasure.”

His warm baritone laugh filled the room. “I’m not looking at a sex doll. I see a beautiful intelligent woman full of interesting ideas. Surprisingly capable. Sexy as hell. I’d like to get to know you better. What are you afraid of?”

“Not afraid.” She fidgeted.

“Right.” He looked at her sideways. “I’ll go first. Before I took this job, I was a lit professor. I…”

“A lit professor? You’re kidding.”

He managed a wry smile. “Not kidding. I love the written word.” His smile expanded. “Even genre fiction.” He paused and the lines of his face deepened. “My wife was a speech therapist. We had a great life. She died four years ago. Aggressive form of breast cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m not telling you so you can be sorry. It’s part of who I am. I had to find a new life, and this seemed a perfect choice.”

A few moments ticked past as she wrestled with her feelings. He’d been scathingly honest. She wanted to reciprocate.

“Divorced, not happily,” she said. “I got tired of waking up to an angry man. I thought he would change. I wanted to make him happy and finally realized I never could.”

“So now you write stories with perfect men,” he said. “Does that help?”

She shrugged. “It’s something to do when I’m not at work. I sell real estate in my real life. Why are you here?”

“I need hard work. Nature heals me,” he said. “You know you’re incredibly desirable.”

“Quick warm up and now the pitch?”

“I want to see you. Take off your shirt.”

“Look, just because I’m a romance writer doesn’t mean I’m cheap,” she said.

“Not at all.” His voice taunted her, teasing and yet serious. “Writers of anything have my full respect. I’ll back off if you tell me to, but I’m hoping you don’t. I haven’t wanted a woman like this…in a long time.”

Why wouldn’t she? She studied him, torn between what he asked and what she wanted, which in the final analysis were the same thing. Why was she clinging to this outdated modesty? Her heroines managed more daring than this.

“Fine.” She ripped her shirt over her head and tossed it to floor, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her bra. “Your turn.”

His grin gleamed at her in the dim light as he lifted his shirt over his head. “Don’t be coy. We’ve got snow, a Christmas tree you’re going to decorate, a fire.” His hand slid over her shoulder. “I want to make love to you.”

“You’re so full of it. I bet you say that to all your one-night stands.”

He popped the catch on her bra and slid the straps off her shoulders. Her nipples puckered as he gazed at her. “Never had a one-night stand like this,” he said quietly. “Damn.”

His head bent and she arched as his mouth caught her nipple. When he leaned up and looked at her, what she saw in the instant before he kissed her was an expression of such tenderness that it shocked her. Something loosened inside her.

His mouth demanded her response, and the thrust of his tongue sent heat spiking down her belly. He cupped her breasts in his hands as he kissed her then lifted her to straddle his lap. Her hair fell forward and she groaned into his mouth. The thickness of his groin thrust up as she seated herself across his hips.

“Oh, damn,” he said, sitting up abruptly. “My ankle!”

She rolled off sideways. Grunting in pain, he lifted his leg and positioned his foot on the floor. The leaking ice pack fell off the coffee table, leaving a trail of water.

“What a mess!” She carried the dripping bundle to the kitchen sink.

“Never mind that,” he growled. “I’m fine. Come back here.”

His gaze seared across the dark room, demanding. Asking. She hesitated, fighting the urge to get dressed and escape. Was he using her? Was this some kind of scam? Was she this desperate?

Not desperate. But…she searched for the right word. Entranced? Involved? Was that even possible?

She climbed back across his lap. He snugged her down, grinning. His kisses brushed her lips, across her jaw, and down her neck. His thumbs rasped over her stiff nipples and his hips bumped up, capturing her attention. “Stop worrying. It’s whatever you want it to be.”

“I don’t know what I want it to be,” she said.

“Liar. We’ve both known since we set eyes on each other. We don’t have to know how it will end. Just how we start. Isn’t that how you write?”

“How did you know that?”

“Everything about you tells me you’re an adventurer.”

His hand cupped her mound, pressing the heat building there. Damn, yes, she wanted him. Could it really be that simple?

He made suffering noises as she teased his nipples. Her fingertips explored his body. Such soft skin covering such an incredible frame.

His bulge made it difficult to release his jeans buttons. He groaned and sat up, lifting her to the side while he stood up, awkwardly, to drop his pants. Clad in blue plaid boxers, his backside brought a huge smile to her face. Unable to resist, she gave him a firm slap.

He fell back against the couch to finish tugging the jeans and thermals off his feet, a task complicated by the wrapping around his ankle. He panted at the pressure on his injury then managed a seductive grin.

“Come on,” he said, cocking his eyebrow. “Your turn.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said, shoving off her pants and blushing in the dim light as white cotton panties and thick socks remained her only clothing. Her skin prickled, heated on the fireplace side and chilled on the other.

“I want to taste you,” he said. “Climb up.”

“This is…just, so wrong,” she said. But she stepped up on the couch cushions anyway. Daring herself. Unable to resist the slow ache building inside her. His big hands grabbed her hips and brought her forward.

“Hang on,” he said, nuzzling her thighs.

He gripped her legs as he brought her against his face. His face burrowed against her panties flooding hot breath over her as he nibbled through the cloth. Her fluids ran as she danced in his grasp.

He tugged her panties off and pulled her close to tease her sensitive flesh. Her legs trembled in the struggle to remain standing, her knees braced against the back of the couch. His tongue swept through her swollen folds and licked inside her, quick darting thrusts that caused her to quiver uncontrollably.

His fingers plunged in. His lips captured her clitoris. His swift suction on the stiff bud sent her crashing into sudden climax. She cried out, bucking against his face with all the grace of a barnyard animal, and she didn’t care.

Shaking, she slid to the couch and rested her gaze on his groin where a stunning erection strained his boxers. “My turn,” she said.

“Your eyes,” he grumbled, tugging the garment down. “I want to ravish you. I’m at your mercy, witch.”

She worried she’d fallen out of practice. She crouched between his legs, awed by his male anatomy. His musk rose as she leaned forward to lick him.

His hands grappled with her hair as she sucked him to the back of her throat. She’d almost forgotten how much she enjoyed this. His hips bucked. He groaned.

“Damn,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Stop.”

“Um,” she said, humming with his cock buried in her throat.

He grabbed her hair and held her back as he disengaged. “I want inside you,” he said in a pained voice. “Please.”

Her breath stuttered as she brought herself down on him. Was it how long she’d been celibate or just his girth? She couldn’t take him all at once.

“Easy,” he said, holding her hips as he lifted her, adjusting his position then urging her down even further. “Your pussy is perfect,” he said, smiling up at her. “You feel like heaven.”

He bucked up, driving himself fully into her. She screamed. He bucked again and she shook all over. Gooseflesh spread over her skin.

“Ride me, Ms. Johnson,” he said, pinching her nipples.

With her knees on either side of his thighs and grasping his shoulders, she began moving up and down. He pressed her clit as she moved. Delirious, she half laughed, half cried as the sounds of their sex ran counterpoint to the fire’s steam and crackle.

Her fingers threaded through his hair as she lowered her mouth to his, driven by the urgent need swelling inside her. “Oh, yes,” she groaned.

“Christ,” he said. “So good.”

His groan erupted into a shout. He held her tight against his hips and lunged upward. Another orgasm gripped her as his release burst hot and fast inside. Her body sagged against his as his last rolling thrusts tapered off.

She hated that tears filmed her eyes. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as his arms surrounded her. She wanted to stay here forever, in his cabin, in his arms with his cock buried deep in her center. This wasn’t the strong self-sufficient woman she expected of herself. But it felt so right.

“You make me feel like a schoolboy. Next time, I’m on top,” he said, his lips muted against her neck. He smoothed back her hair. “It won’t go so fast, I promise.”

Snugged into his arms, she imagined the delirious pleasure of him over her, driving her beyond reason. Justin for Christmas? She smiled.

When she returned from the bathroom wrapped in his robe, he was standing in the kitchen in his boxers with a whiskey bottle in his hand. He handed her a small glass and lifted his against it. His warm smile caught the fire’s glow.

“To ice,” he said. “And the next chapter.”

© Lizzie Ashworth 2015

More from Lizzie…

Lizzie Ashworth’s new release: Caerwin and the Roman Dog

Historical romance novel, erotic

Buy link: Amazon → http://www.amazon.com/dp/B016LA6ZVA

Book blurb:

Caerwin, a young Cornovii princess, watches from the rocky battlements of her tribe’s hillfort as Rome’s legions approach. Surely the valiant warriors of her tribe will fend off this swarm of foreign invaders. Disbelief slowly changes to horror as Romans overrun her home.

Captured and held in Roman camp, Caerwin faces Legate Marcellus Antistius who makes it clear she will submit to his demands. In spite of her resistance, he forces her pleasure. She begs to die.

Caught between his increasing infatuation with this Briton princess and the demands of his military command, Marcellus must come to terms with his past.

A fiery novel of domination and submission, this historical romance follows Caerwin as she refuses to accept her new reality. Life as she knew it is over. Forever. In its place stands a man she can never love.

Set in the year 47 AD as four legions of the Roman army invade Britannia and blaze a path of death and destruction, this novel portrays the plight of native Celts who must yield their lands and possessions to become vassals of Rome—or fight to the death.

Author Photo – on request

Book cover – on request

Teaser – on request

Author Bio:

Short version: Lizzie Ashworth has been through career, marriage, kids, and even ran her own cafe, but writing has always been her secret love. She writes erotic romance because her mind just naturally runs to the gutter.

Longer version: Lizzie Ashworth has been through career, marriage, kids, and even ran her own cafe, but writing has always been her secret love. Hidden away on a remote woodland hilltop in the Arkansas Ozarks, she accepts advice from her hound dog Weezie and her black cat Esmeralda. She has authored seven novels and several short stories which explore the intimate nuances of human relationships.

Liz writes erotic romance because her mind just naturally runs to the gutter. Also, it’s way past time to celebrate women’s sexual freedom and the evolution of our culture to finally bring sex out of the closet. What she find most exciting about this minute in the history of literature is that through indie publishing, the author can directly connect with her readers.

She enjoys cooking, gardening, and vacations at the Pacific coast. Sunrise and sunset provide her favorite moments, the magical twilight between two worlds when anything seems possible. Most of all, she loves snuggling up with a good book.

Excerpt:

The man Caerwin had seen on the white horse paused in the tent opening. His stare fastened on her and sent chills down her spine. He stood taller than the other men, his body of a stature more like her own people than these rat men of Rome. His layered metal vest had been removed as had his helmet and other outer garments, so that he wore only loose breeches that ended at his knees. She swallowed, casting her eyes away after her first long frozen moment.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked quietly.

The words shocked her, spoken fluently her familiar language. She turned to face him. Words rose to her lips but remained unspoken. He examined her, openly casting his gaze up and down her body as if he owned her. The terrible realization struck her—he did own her. She had been caught up at his command and now stood captive to his whim.

She spat in his direction and turned her face away. Tugging against the tight leather bonds, she succeeded only in chafing her wrists. Her nerves heightened to brittle pitch as she sensed him approaching. She knew what he would do, what such men did to captured women.

He placed himself in front of her, so close she could not look away without seeing his chest. His scent stung her nose, sharp and edged with the copper hint of blood. Stains marked his arms and face, sweat-encrusted dirt and smears of blood. His voice startled her, so close and so quiet.

“What is this trinket?” he asked, fingering the torque.

She glared at him. “Shall you steal it from me like you have stolen our lives and our land?”

“I wish only to converse with you, to ease this friendship we’ve started.”

She snorted and strained at the bonds holding her. “I wish only to kill you. I would leave your body for the crows.”

He grabbed her face and held her still while his mouth tasted her. His lips moved against her lips. His tongue sought the seam and when she refused to spread her jaw, he bit her lower lip. Her shocked cry gave him entry, and his tongue invaded her mouth, probing and pushing.

Hate rose in her chest, blinding her. She clamped her teeth down on his tongue, savoring a brief taste of blood as he jerked back.

“Vipera!” He wiped his hand over his mouth. “You won’t win this battle, but if you wish a contest…” His big hand closed over the neck of her garment and ripped it down the front of her body. The beautiful woolen dress she had so carefully woven hung off her shoulders.

“I will have you,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Whether you wish it or not. Let the others portion out the gold and silver, whatever meager wealth your tribe held. I have wealth enough in coin. You with your hair like copper,” he added, fingering her long braid, “your eyes blue as sky—you are my pillage for this day.”

Links:

Website and blog: http://lizzieashworth.com/

Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLizzieAshworth?ref=hl

Pinterest page (includes boards for all her books) Check out my “Romans” board for more on Caerwin and the Roman Dog. https://www.pinterest.com/ashworthlizzie/romans/

Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27235437-caerwin-and-the-roman-dog

Thank You Sir by Shawn D Standfast #CinnamonTreats

Smell of smoke mixed with perfume

Crackle of the fire by our side

Carols playing low and soft

Tree is decorated, flickering in firelight

Church bells peel though the still night

You respond to gentle caress, your eyes begging for more

We have waited a long time for this

Desires taking flight and pleasures soar

I cup your cheek and neck in my hand

Your head turns to press into my palm

I look deep into your eyes and say:

“Stand up, pull up your dress! Show me!”

Standing before me, legs spread, exposed

Your breath quickens as my hand caresses your thighs

Your heady, musky scent stirs darkened thoughts

Grabbing hold with both hands I pull you closer

Inhaling deeply, my tongue flicks out

I feel the weakness in your legs and steady you

Pulling you down, legs spread

I feel your heat, I feel your wetness

You mumble words but I do not hear

Your words get in the way and I bite your lower lip

Your mouth opens, my tongue explores

Flesh warm and inviting, pulling you down

Your dress is shed as I bask in your beauty

Enjoying the desire in your eyes

Unable to resist you pinch and squeeze your breasts

Leaning forward I bite hardened nipples

You pull my head close and throw your head back

A scream escapes your lips: “YES!”

Holding back I lift you off me and hold you tight

You shudder with the pain of parting

“Not yet my pet, there is more to come. Sit and open wide”

I see desire and a flicker of fear in your eyes

Not knowing that will come next as I leave the room

Your heart races, sweat pours down sensitive thighs

I return with your special paddle dangling from my hand

Your eyes sparkle and a smile bursts across your face

You squirm knowing what is to come

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

Your flesh responds to every whack, you squirm and cry out

Delighted with each exquisite contact, asking for more

Leaning forward I kiss your reddened flesh

Caressing the hot skin, fingers exploring and probing

Your flowing wetness engulfs me as I thrust into you

With a wicked grin on your face and panting from release you say:

“Thank you Sir.”

I answer: “Merry Christmas my pet, my good girl. Merry Christmas!”

Copyright © 2015 Shawn D. Standfast. All rights reserved.

Find more from Shawn here…

Twitter – https://twitter.com/BooksR4Life

Blog – https://abloglesstraveled.wordpress.com

Christmas With Cinnamon by CJ Heath #CinnamonTreats

I’d resolved to spend my Christmas

with the homeless and the poor.

The girl I’d chose to help

didn’t say she was a whore.

I took her from the street

with the thought to get her warm.

She borrowed my pc

and searched the net for porn.

As the film clip loaded

she said she’d been a star,

then across 24 inches

she appeared in just a bra.

It was what I saw her doing,

in her swimming cosy,

that should have been a hint,

she may just be a prozzy.

I was a little shocked

where I saw the marrow go,

maybe I was naïve

but still, I didn’t know!

Then she turned to face me

and she told me her name.

She was called Cinnamon

and life will never be the same.

I paid her a twenty

though she’d only asked for ten.

She grinned and said that after

I would get to go again.

I thought I was her hero

with charity in mind.

Doing the right thing,

only being kind.

That was when she pounced

and shoved me to the bed,

ripping of my trousers

and roughly giving head.

Shock turned to pleasure,

I responded (as you would).

Bless the girl, she swallowed,

climbed off me and stood.

Still I didn’t realise

my pleasure was her pay,

but maybe I shouldn’t have asked

If she was willing to stay.

She wriggled on the bed

and sat down on my face,

my licking of her flesh

may not have helped my case.

Okay, I’ll admit it

this was all new to me.

I was nineteen and a virgin

and so tempted to flee.

After a short time,

(we let five hours pass),

The exhausted girl changed tack

and started probing at my arse.

She opened up her bag,

withdrew rubber and leather,

a scary looking strapon

fastened with a tether.

So I’m bent over the bed,

my butt-cheeks held apart,

I’m told to relax,

and she asked if she could start.

I couldn’t really answer

with her ballgag ‘tween my lips,

though I knew she wouldn’t listen

as she firmly grabbed my hips.

My ankles were tied

as tightly as my wrists,

Cinamon reached around me,

grasped me with her fists.

Both her hands abused me

as her stomach slapped my back,

the rubber based dildo

bouncing on my sack.

Bruised and battered inside,

my arse-cheeks red and sore,

tears ran down my cheeks

but still she fed me more.

I just adjusted my position!

I wasn’t pushing back!

I didn’t have a need

for 10” in my crack!

Well okay, it wasn’t nasty,

it was better than I thought,

but this wasn’t what I wanted,

this wasn’t what I sought.

So many lies

passed through my head

with my arse in the air

and my forehead on the bed.

It’s true I knew of Cinnamon

when I went to help the poor.

It wasn’t simple chance

that I came home with a whore.

And I didn’t pay her twenty,

I handed her a grand;

freshly printed

and fastened with a band.

I knew what I was doing,

knew who it was I’d meet.

She was my present,

my Christmas treat.

What happened next

wasn’t part of my plan.

My apartment door opened,

in walked my friend Stan.

He stared at us and gawked

but she didn’t lose her stride,

ploughing on regardless,

she roughly thrust inside.

Stan tapped her shoulder

and whispered in her ear.

The pair then swapped places

and HE slipped into my rear!

My gag was removed

and rubber took its place

I coughed and choked

as Cinnamon roughly fucked my face.

So there I was,

impaled at either end;

a whore gripping my hair

and getting buggered by my friend.

So that was my Christmas;

one day from my life,

or that was the plan

but now Cinnamon’s my wife.

I had no say in it,

I’m her sissy, I’m her bitch.

And Stan is on standby

for when he has an itch.

I had to leave my job

so I could better serve my queen.

She dressed me as her maid,

Oh! The sights that I have seen!

When her punters leave

her attention turns to me.

What once I had paid for

now I get for free!

© CJ Heath 2015.

Find more from CJ here…

Amazon

A Visit From St Nick by Kit Tinsley #CinnamonTreats

A Visit From St Nick

By Kit Tinsley

‘Daddy?’ My son, Pete’s voice stirred me into consciousness.

I opened my eyes to see him stood next to the bed. His eyes heavy with interrupted sleep. His blonde hair is tussled from hours of tossing and turning. Four years old and perfect.

‘Come on.’ I said, motioning for him to get into bed with his mother and I.

Most nights he would join us at some point in the early hours. It surprised me he wasn’t wanting to go right downstairs. It was now Christmas morning after all, and a mountain of presents was awaiting him by the tree.

‘I think, our chimney’s blocked.’ He said. Anyone who has ever had a four year old will tell you that they can come out with the strangest things. This was a new one I thought, pulling him up into the bed.

‘What makes you think that?’ I asked.

‘Santa couldn’t get in.’ He said, starting to drift off to sleep in my arms. ‘I heard him break a window downstairs. ’

In an instant, I was alert and listening.

‘What’s wrong daddy?’ My son asked.

‘Nothing.’ I said in a soothing tone. ‘Go back to sleep.’

I looked over to my wife, Gloria. She was sound asleep.

I was trying to tell myself that he had been dreaming, or had not heard what he thought he had. I listened and heard the creek of someone coming up the stairs.

I shook Gloria until she woke.

‘What?’ She said, groggy and annoyed at the disturbance.

‘There’s someone in the house.’ I whispered.

I saw her eyes widen as the news brought her to the same state of wakefulness I was at.

‘A burglar?’ She asked.

I shrugged. I had no way of knowing what the intruders intentions were. However, in all the things playing in my mind, being robbed was the best case scenario.

She fumbled on her bedside table.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Looking for the phone.’ She replied. ‘We should call the police. ’

I shook my head.

‘The phone is downstairs.’ I said. She had taken it down with her that morning, and neither of us had remembered to bring it back up.

‘Shit.’ She said. ‘What are we going to do? ’

I got up from the bed and crept to the door. Our son had left it ajar when he came in, and I peered through the crack. I saw a hunched shadow on the wall of the stairwell. A silhouette, illuminated by the multi-coloured hue of our Christmas lights.

‘He’s coming up the stairs.’ I whispered. ‘You stay here, I’ll have to deal with this. ’

I saw fear cross her eyes. She shook her head.

‘Please, Mark. Don’t go. ’

I could understand her fear. We had no idea who this intruder was, or what they wanted. They could be armed with God only knew what, while I was stood there in nothing but my lounge pants. I didn’t even have any shoes on.

‘I can’t do nothing.’ I said. ‘What if he’s here for you? Or him? ’

She looked down at Pete, who was now sleeping next to her. She looked back at me and nodded.

‘Be careful.’ She said.

I smiled and slipped out of the room.

They had made it so easy. A house this size with so little security. Not even an alarm. I guessed that burglars targeted them all the time. Yet, if the burglars had been successful I’m sure they would have some sort of alarm system.

As I checked the perimeter of the house, I thought maybe they had a dog, some big brute of a guard dog. Something like that and you don’t need an alarm. Nine out of ten burglars would leave it at the sight of a dog. I’m not nine out of ten burglars, hell I’m not even a burglar.

I broke a window round the back of the house. It was the side furthest away from the road. I was also assuming that the bedrooms were most likely at the front, for the view.

I waited before going into the house. Listening for any sound of movement. And hint that someone had heard me and was now coming to investigate.

It was all clear so I pulled myself up onto the window ledge and climbed into the house. I found myself in a large kitchen. You never know what you’re in for when you break into a home. Even one this size. A kitchen is a good room to begin in. It gives you a sense of the people who live there. For example, a tidy kitchen, without a dining table is a sign of a single man, or a couple without kids. A messy kitchen with a table is the sign of a larger family. A kitchen like this one. Ordered, but with a small table and kids drawings on the fridge. That is the sign of a professional couple with only one or two kids.

I always like to prepare before I head upstairs.

I placed my case on the kitchen table and opened it up. Inside was the selection of tools I had picked out for tonight. I left the gun in the bag. I didn’t like using guns. It wasn’t intimate enough for me. Shooting someone took away all pleasure from their death. I was cheating them, and cheating myself.

I took out the hunting knife my father had bought me all those years ago. It had a thick blade, slight curve at the tip, like a hook. One side was smooth and sharp. The other serrated for sawing through wood or bone.

It was this very knife I had used my first time. Despite all the other toys in my collection the hunting knife would always be my favourite. It always brought back that rush of nerves and excitement I had felt that first time, all those years ago.

With that decided, I pulled out the note. The calling card I left every year. The one the police were desperate to learn something from. Some hint to my identity. Of course, I gave them none.

It always made me smile when I read the note. My own little melodramatic twist of that old Clement Clarke Moore festive favourite.

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

For I slit all their throats and watched them bleed out. ’

The words scrawled in the craziest handwriting, I could muster. Red ink. The media wanted a monster. A twisted bogeyman that could sell their papers, or keep their ratings up. I was more than happy to play that part. They had dubbed me ‘St Nick’ after my choice of poem. I liked it.

I put the note down on the kitchen table. I always left the note downstairs. It could be too easy to lose or damage in the carnage that would occur upstairs.

With it neatly in place I headed for the stairs.

I crept across the landing. Keeping close to the wall. I hoped that the deep pile of the carpet muffled the sound of my movement. I just wanted to get to the other side of the stairs. I wanted to be in a position to surprise the intruder. For all I knew this was nothing more than a burglar. Someone who meant no more harm to me or my family than stealing our well insured possessions. Yet, it was Christmas Eve and that meant it could be him. The ‘St Nick’ killer. Every year for the last nine he had butchered a whole family in their home, on this night.

My heart raced as I got to the other side of the landing. I could see over the bannister. I saw the intruder mounting the steps. He stopped on each one to examine the family photo’s we had hanging on the wall. He extended his hand and I saw the blade of the knife glinting with the reflection of the Christmas lights. He traced the blade across the pictures.

It was him. It was St Nick. The sick son of a bitch was even wearing a red jacket hemmed with white fur. His hair was long and grey, and he had a bristly beard. He was trying to look like Santa Claus. Only a nightmarish version of that genial character.

He reached the top of the stair and I saw him begin to turn. He was about to look around and see me standing there watching him. I hadn’t thought to grab anything I could use as a weapon. I dropped to the floor. I peered around the corner and saw he was looking away from me again. He was looking in the direction of Pete’s bedroom.

When he had got up to come into our room, Pete had left his door open. The glow coming from his night light spilled out onto the landing. It drew the intruder towards it like a moth to a flame.

If Pete hadn’t have heard him, if he hadn’t come into our room, this monster would have gone for him first. He would have killed our son while we slept.

Paternal rage filled every fibre of my being. I looked behind me. On the windowsill was a large vase made of heavy pottery. I grabbed it and charged towards him.

I sat there on the bed listening intently after Mark left the room. One hand gently stroked Pete’s hair as he slept beside me. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing. The only sound I could hear was my own heartbeat, thumping fast.

Why hadn’t I brought the phone upstairs with me? If I had been able to ring them when Mark woke me, the police would be here by now. It was Christmas Eve. They didn’t hesitate when it came to intruders on Christmas Eve, in case it was him. St Nick.

I thought about all the awful stories I had heard about the things he had done. He liked to make his victims suffer before he killed them. Torture and mutilation were what they said. This would be his tenth year and the police were no nearer to catching him than they were when it all began.

This wasn’t supposed to be our Christmas. We were meant to wake up tomorrow and see the joy on Pete’s face when he saw all the gifts that Santa had left for him. He had been so good this year. It had been difficult for him to control his problem. He had done so well. Mark and I had gone to town to spoil him this year and show him how proud we were of him.

Our parents were going to come over, and I was going to cook everyone the best goddamn Christmas dinner they’d ever had.

Now what was going to become of that?

I heard running across the landing. There was a roar of anger. It was Mark. Then all hell broke loose.

I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye as I stood in the child’s doorway. He was charging towards me holding something above his head. He screamed as I turned to face him. He was younger and quicker than me, but he was also half my size. He tried to bring the pot down on my head, but I turned away from the blow just in time. It hit my shoulder, hard. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it bounced off me and shattered against the wall. Seeing that his attack hadn’t worked the way he wanted to he began punching out at me. A couple connected with my face. Despite his rage though, this man was not a fighter. His soft businessman hands did little more than annoy me.

I reached out with my left arm and grabbed him by the throat. I lifted him from the ground. Pain shot through my shoulder, perhaps the blow had done more damage than I first thought. I swung him around and threw him against the wall.

He let out a grunt from the impact, which was fierce enough to dent the plasterboard. I kept hold of his throat but let him slide down until his feet were on the floor. I grinned at him.

‘Ho, ho, ho.’ I said as I thrust the hunting knife towards him.

He was a wiry bastard though. He slipped from my grip and side stepped the blade. It connected with the wall.

The man turned and ran towards the stairs.

I followed. Everyone in the house was probably awake by now. This year was going to be a fun game of hide and seek.

As he reached the top step I threw the knife. The hilt connected with the back of his head and sent him off balance I watched as he tumbled down the stairs. I thought to myself that he would be unconscious. That would give me time to gather up the other members of the family. This guy was tougher than he looked though. When he hit the floor at the bottom he pushed himself up on his hands and knees and looked up at me. He had a black eye and a bloody nose, but he smiled and got to his feet.

I was going to have to follow him downstairs and deal with him. I’d cut the phone line to the house, but if he got outside he could alert a neighbour. I wasn’t prepared to have my fun interrupted by the police. I began to descend the stairs.

One of them had fallen down the stairs. The other was following them down. I prayed that Mark was okay, but I had to do something. I remembered that I’d left my mobile phone in Pete’s room when I put him to bed. If I could get it, I could call for help.

I looked at Pete asleep on the bed. I couldn’t just leave him here defenceless on the bed. What if the intruder came and found him before I got back. I had to make him safe, without waking him up. If I was to wake him, he may panic and that could bring on another bout of his illness.

In a rush I gathered up the quilt and my pillow and put them inside my walk in wardrobe. I put them on the floor to make a comfy little bed for him. Then I carried Pete, still sleeping and rested him on top of it. I kissed his forehead as he murmured. Then I shut the door behind me.

Back in the bedroom, a searched for something I could use to protect myself. At first, I couldn’t think of anything. We tended not to keep sharp things accessible because of Pete was in to everything. Mark had a set of golf clubs, but they were in the garage.

Then I remembered that the leg on the stool of my dressing table was loose. It was a heavy piece of oak. I snapped the leg free. A nail poked out of it. This gave me extra reassurance. I opened the door. There was a sudden sound of a struggle downstairs.

I caught up with him at the front door. He had the phone in his hand jabbing the call button.

‘I cut the phone.’ I said.

He yelled in distress and threw the phone at me. I batted it away with ease. He turned and went for the door. I moved quickly and grabbed his head and rammed it into the door. Then I let him fall back to the floor. He hit it hard. The tough little guy was still conscious, though I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was dazed. I knelt down beside him.

‘So, I’ve been making my list.’ I said. ‘I’ve even checked it twice. Your name came up as naughty. ’

‘Fuck you.’ He said, spitting blood in my face.

‘You see, that’s the kind of language that gets you on the naughty list.’ I said. ‘Now you, and your wife and son are going to have to pay. ’

I grabbed hold of his hair and began dragging him back away from the door. He screamed and grabbed at my hand, but the blows to his head had taken most of the fight out of him. I dragged him from the hall, through the lounge and into the dining room. There I picked him up and set him down in a chair.

I pulled the roll of duct tape out of my coat pocket and began strapping him to the chair.

‘Look at it this way.’ I said. ‘you’re number ten. You’re going to be famous. ’

I laughed. He didn’t appear to share my good cheer.

‘Where’s your Christmas spirit? ’

He looked at me.

‘I’m going to watch you die. ’

I finished taping him to the chair. I knelt down in front of him.

‘No, you’re going to watch me disembowel your son, and flay your wife alive. Then I’m going to cut your eyes out and feed them to you. Then all you’ll have is the sound of their screams to try to guess what I’m doing to them next.’

He looked over my shoulder and smiled.

‘Not tonight.’ He said.

I felt a lightening jolt of pain explode across the side of my head and face. Everything went dark.

I ran from our room to Pete’s. I found my phone. I began to cry as I saw the battery was dead. I fell to my knees. It seemed like our fate had already been sealed. Like the universe had conspired on this most sacred of nights to end us.

I heard Mark screaming downstairs. I had to do something. I ran back to our room and opened up my wardrobe. Pete was still sound asleep. I closed the door gently on him once more and moved towards the stairs. The commotion had died down a little. Now I could hear a deep voice talking in the dining room. I crept along through the lounge and saw a giant of a man taping my, bloodied and beaten, husband to a chair. This man must have been at least six foot five tall and almost as wide. He had long, matted grey hair and a messy looking beard. He wore a red, suede coat trimmed with white fur. He looked like a monstrous Father Christmas.

‘No, you’re going to watch me disembowel your son, and flay your wife alive.’ He said. His voice was full of menace. ‘Then I’m going to cut your eyes out and feed them to you. Then all you’ll have is the sound of their screams to try to guess what I’m doing to them next. ’

I crept into the room behind him. I raised the broken stool leg like it was a baseball bat. Mark’s eyes met mine and I saw his look was telling me to do it.

‘Not tonight.’ Mark said to the man with a weary smile.

With all my strength I swung the heavy piece of oak. It connected with the side of the man’s head. The nail that had been poking out dug into the side of his skull. I felt the soft crunch as that side of his face caved in. The sound of his bones cracking was audible. He didn’t scream. He gave no sign of pain. Then he collapsed.

I dropped the stool leg and rushed over to Mark.

‘Is he dead?’ Mark asked. His voice was weak. It was clear he was in a lot of pain.

I began trying to get the tape off him to free him, but it was too strong.

‘I need to cut this.’ I said.

‘Is he dead?’ Mark repeated.

‘I don’t know.’ I said. ‘ I have to get the scissors, or a knife to cut this tape. I’ll grab the phone and call the police. ’

Mark shook his head.

‘He cut the phone line.’ He said.

‘Where’s your mobile?’ I asked.

‘In the car. ’

‘I’ll get the scissors and then we can get Pete and get to the car. ’

The man on the floor groaned. He was alive, and he was coming to.

‘Gloria.’ Mark said. ‘Get Pete, get out of the house. Get help. ’

I shook my head.

‘I’m not leaving you like that.’ I said.

Mark nodded.

‘You are. I’m not going anywhere. He’s going to come after you.’ He said.

The man began trying to get up. Each time he pushed himself up a little and then fell back down. His face was bleeding and starting to swell where I had hit him with the stool leg.

‘Gloria.’ Mark said. ‘Go! ’

With one almighty heave the man got to his knees.

He looked at me, his eyes piercing through his ruined face.

‘I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus.’ He sang then laughed.

‘Go!’ Mark screamed at me. I turned and ran for the stairs.

I watched as my wife ran from the room. Then I turned to face St Nick.

‘That looks like it hurts.’ I said.

He shuffled across the floor and recovered his knife. He attempted to pull himself up to a standing position. Pulling himself up on a chair like a toddler. The first attempt failed and he fell back to his knees.

‘It stings.’ He said laughing. ‘But the things I’ll do to her are going to be so bad, the cops who find you are going to have nightmares about it for the rest of their lives. I swear to you she’s going to live long enough to feel every pain I can inflict on her. ’

Rage filled me again and I fought to free myself from the tape. It was pointless of course.

‘You touch her and I will tear your fucking heart out.’ I said.

He started pulling himself up again and this time some of his strength had returned. He got to his feet, but seemed unwilling to let go of the chair just yet.

‘I could kill you now.’ He said, ‘but, I want her to see you die. ’

He staggered away from the chair and went to the door.

‘Gloria, he’s coming!’ I yelled at the top of my lungs.

He turned around to me.

‘Don’t spoil the game buddy.’ He said and winked. Then he turned back around. ‘Ready or not here I come. ’

Then he was gone.

I ran as fast as I could to our bedroom. I shut the door behind me and heard Pete’s voice from the wardrobe.

‘Mummy? Daddy?’ He sounded scared.

I rushed and opened up the wardrobe door. He was rubbing his eyes and still half asleep. He looked confused.

‘Why I am I in the cupboard?’ He asked.

It was a reasonable question, after all he had fallen asleep on our bed and woken up on the floor of my wardrobe. I didn’t want to panic him. If he got himself worked up, there was no way of knowing what might happen.

‘We’re just playing a special Christmas game of hide and seek.’ I said comforting him.

‘Has Santa been yet?’

I shook my head.

‘No Santa has definitely not been yet.’ I said, thinking of the madman downstairs. ‘Come on let’s find somewhere good to hide. How about daddy’s car? ’

He nodded, still not totally with me

I heard Mark’s voice from downstairs.

‘Gloria! He’s coming!’ He screamed

A deeper, more booming voice followed.

‘Ready or not, here I come. ’

Pete looked confused, then wide awake. And full of wonder.

‘Is that Santa?’ He asked excited.

I shook my head.

‘It’s daddy being silly.’ I said.

I scooped Pete up into my arms and ran for the door. I could hear loud slow footfalls heading for the stairs. There was no way we could get down them without him catching us. I ran for the bathroom. I locked the door behind us. Not that I thought the little lock would stop that beast for more than a few seconds before he knocked the door down. I set Pete down on the toilet seat and rushed to the window. I knocked everything off the deep sill. Shampoo, razors and tooth brushes went crashing to the floor. I opened the window as far as it would go. I would be able to lower Pete down onto the garage roof, and then jump down myself. From there, I could smash the skylight and drop us down to the car. We kept the spare keys in a biscuit tin in the garage.

‘He’s making a list. He’s checking it twice.’ The man sang as he stomped up the stairs.

‘Mummy, I’m a bit scared.’ Pete said with tears in his eyes.

I went to him and smiled.

‘It’s just a game baby.’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s get to the car. ’

I picked him up and took him to the windowsill. I felt his little heart beating fast, and his temperature was rising up. This was not a good sign. He was heading for one of his episodes.

I lowered him down to the roof below. He dropped the last few feet and landed with a thud.

‘Are you okay baby?’ I called down.

‘Yeah.’ He said back to me.

‘He’s going to find out who’s naughty and nice.’ The man was at the top of the stairs. Heading straight towards us.

I jumped onto the sill and began trying to squeeze myself through the gap. I got my legs through, but then felt like I could not go any further.

‘Santa Claus is coming to town!’ He was outside the door.

I saw the handle turn and he realised the door was locked. There was a loud thud as he attempted to knock the door down. The first blow didn’t succeed in opening the door. I shimmied as hard as I could. At first, it felt like I was going nowhere.

A second, louder thud hit the door. It remained shut, but I could see that this time the lock had started to come loose. The next hit would open the door.

I thought all was lost, then, I moved just right and I slid out of the window and landed with a thump on the garage roof. Pete came running over to me and hugged me tight, I didn’t like how pale he looked.

There was a crashing noise from above and I looked up to find St Nick staring down at us furious.

’Santa?’ Pete said.

The killer tried pushing the window open further. He soon realised that there was no way he was following us out that way. He disappeared.

I walked over to the skylight. It was ajar, enough for me to pry it open and lower Pete down into the garage. I jumped down after him.

‘Was that Santa?’ He asked.

‘No Pete, it wasn’t Santa.’ I said. I rummaged around looking for the biscuit tin that contained the spare key. Where was that fucking biscuit tin?

‘It looked like Santa.’ He said. ‘Is he angry cos I’m not in bed? ’

Where was that fucking biscuit tin?

‘It wasn’t bloody Santa!’ I yelled. I didn’t want to. All the fear and emotion, and the frustration of not being able to find the tin came out in one sentence.

Pete stared at me with a look of shock and hurt. He started to scream. Then bolted for the door.

‘Daddy!’ He yelled as he ran out of the garage. I charged after him.

I heard the thudding upstairs. I heard the commotion in the garage and there was nothing I could do to help any of it. I struggled against the tape. I tried pushing the chair over to see if it would break. I was convinced I had seen people do that in movies. However, St Nick had secured me too well, I couldn’t get enough momentum to tip the chair. I wept in frustration. I heard the killer running down the stairs. He was tearing through the house trying to find a way into the garage.

I heard Pete screaming for me and feared the worst.

‘Pete!’ I yelled.

My son came running in. Something about the four year old mind meant that he didn’t even question why I was taped to the chair. He was more concerned with his own problem.

‘Mummy shouted at me!.’ He screamed. He was looking pale, and I could see he was soaked with sweat. He was verging on being hysterical. The shakes would start soon.

‘I’m sure mummy didn’t mean it.’ I said. ‘There’s a bad man in the house. Mummy is frightened. ’

With that Gloria came rushing into the room. She threw her arms around Pete and kissed his forehead.

‘I’m so sorry baby.’ She said.

I saw Pete’s eyelid start to twitch.

St Nick appeared in the door way

‘Merry Christmas fuckers!’ He yelled.

Pete looked at me.

‘Daddy, I think it’s going to happen again. ’

Gloria let go of him and stepped back.

‘It’s ok baby. You’ve been good all year. ’

Pete began to convulse and fell to the floor.

The kid hit the floor hard. He twitched around and a puddle of piss formed where he lay. At first, I thought he was having a seizure. That was ok. It gave me time to secure his bitch-whore mother. I wanted her to suffer worse than any of them before.

Sometimes I would spare the mothers the pain of seeing me cut their kids to pieces. Not tonight though, if she even tried to look away I was going to cut off her fucking eyelids.

The boy stopped twitching and his arms shot out in front of him. There was an audible snap as his bones came out of their sockets. I watched him, wondering what the hell was happening. He screamed in pain as his limbs appeared to lengthen. Blood erupted from his nail bed as long, black claws poked through.

‘What the fuck?’ I said, taking a step back.

The boy raised his head and his jaw broke and lunged forward. His face elongated into some sort of snout and thick black hair began to poke out of his pale skin.

The mother rushed to the father. She didn’t want to look. Neither did I. I wanted to run. This shit was way beyond anything I had ever seen before, but I was transfixed.

The boy’s teeth popped out one by one and scattered across the floor. Blood poured from his mouth as the teeth were replaced with vicious looking fangs. Pointed and curved, meant to kill and tear flesh like the hunting knife I held.

His eyes rolled up in his head. The pupils disappearing. When they popped back down they were no longer blue. They were amber and glowing like they were ablaze.

He charged at me. I tried to knock him away, but he was too strong. Those vicious jaws clamped around my throat and the teeth pierced my flesh.

Pain filled every fibre of my being. And as he ripped my throat out with his teeth my final thought was. I’m not really a monster after all.

© Kit Tinsley 2015.

Facebook –  http://www.facebook.com/KitTinsley

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 Website –http://www.kit-tinsley.com

And his books – http://www.smarturl.it/KitBooks

Christmas Comes Early by A.M Harding #CinnamonTreats

“How many more?” he asked.

“Just one before lunch. If you can manage to squeeze in a quickie?” she replied, disappearing behind the wall of tinsel.

He could hear muffled sounds from the queue waiting expectantly outside the grotto that had been built in the middle of the toy department. It was his first week as Santa and whilst he was arguably too young and physically not built for the role, he had taken to the job like a duck to water. It had taken a while to get used to the incessant stream of wide-eyed children being coaxed and pushed in front of him but the eventual joy on their faces made it all worthwhile. Well, that and the cheeky smile of his ever-present and appropriately named assistant, Holly.

The final child was soon on his way, a wrapped present clutched tightly to his chest as he headed out to rejoin his waiting parents. Holly stepped out with him and announced to the waiting line that the grotto was closed for the next hour as even Father Christmas had to eat occasionally. The queue began to disperse as Holly stepped back inside, closing the door behind her.

“Peace at last” She said

“Bliss” he sighed “I’m exhausted”.

“Santa…?”

“It’s Peter, if you prefer?”

“Not just yet” she said with a wink. “Santa, I wanted to ask if you have any treats in your sack for me?”

“Well that depends” he said, reverting to the familiar script “Have you been a good girl?”

“I could say yes, but what happens If I say no? I’ve been very naughty.”

“Then you’ll have to tell me what you’ve done and I’ll see if you deserve a reward or not.”

He remained seated on the oversized chair in the middle of the grotto as he watched Holly bashfully walk towards him. As she neared, she fiddled with the buttons on her dress, perfectly imitating the young children who nervously approached him.

“Well Santa” She purred as she perched on his knee “Normally I’m a good girl, but some days, like today, I feel like being naughty and I’m not sure my clothing is entirely appropriate”.

His eyes opened wide and he found himself looking at her with excited interest. The bright green costume she wore was covered in tinsel and sat just above her knees. Her legs were clad in red and white stripes that mimicked the hanging candy canes and there was no hint of anything inappropriate in her appearance.

“You look silly, but perfectly dressed to me” he said.

Her eyes twinkled. “Let me show you”.

Without moving from his knee she lifted the hem of her dress to her waist revealing her stocking tops, beautifully smooth thighs, and a tiny Father-Christmas-adorned thong. Somewhat taken aback, he stared at the hidden delights on show.

“Well that’s somewhere I didn’t expect to see my face today!” he said

“Strange, that’s exactly where I hoped to see it” She said “Do I still qualify as good?” she asked “Or do I need to be punished like a naughty girl?”

“I think you are little of both” He said, a firmness creeping into his voice and his underwear at the same time. “If you’re a good girl and accept your punishment, I definitely have something in my sack for you”

“Excellent” she said as she lifted herself from his lap and stepped to the corner of the room to turn the music up so that the annoyingly cheerful Christmas tunes just blotted out the excited squeals of children in the store around the grotto.

“Now where do you want me Santa?”

“Over my knee” he said

Holly walked eagerly back and lay down over his legs, placing her hands on the floor for support. Lifting the hem of her dress he admired her bare, pert buttocks before beginning to massage them.

“Have you been naughty in any other ways?” He asked, kneading the flesh of her firm arse, warming it in preparation.

“Oh no Santa, I’m normally a good girl” She said

“I see” he said, bringing the flat of his palm down smartly on her round cheek, the slapping sound masked by the music. “Then this shouldn’t take too long”.

He continued to rub, slap and caress her thighs and reddening bottom, each stroke getting nearer to the damp triangle of material that passed for underwear. She parted her legs, allowing him to ease it aside and touch the already slick entrance of her pussy. Teasing his thumb along the sensitive flesh, he gently pushed until the digit sank deep into the moist heat.

His thumb remained pressed inside her as his fingers explored the deliciously damp flesh, parting her lips as he sought her clit. A squeal emanated from below his knees the moment he touched it and began to play. Holly began to moan louder, clearly enjoying the sensations his fingers and thumb were creating as they simultaneously worked their magic inside and out of her. Afraid they’d be heard through the thin walls of the makeshift grotto, he leant over and picked up a thick candy cane from the table and passed it to Holly.

“Suck on this” he said “It’s not as good as a gag but it will do”

“Thank you Santa” She said and obediently placed the thick, sweet cinnamon rod between her lips clenching it with her teeth.

“You’re clearly a very naughty girl” he said, lightly slapping her buttocks with his free hand. His thumb moved deeper inside her, pressing against her inner walls whilst his fingers danced across her clit in rapid, circular motions. She writhed across his lap, thighs clamping around his hand in response to his efforts. Holly’s breathing became faster and deeper, the taste of cinnamon growing stronger as the sugary sweet slowly softened in her mouth. He was teasing her, keeping her close to climax but not allowing it to happen until he suddenly stopped and withdrew his hand.

“What!?” She exclaimed. “I was nearly there!”

“I know.” he said with a smile “I was punishing you, remember? Naughty girls have to earn their treats.”

Holly manoeuvred herself from his lap and looked at him, watching as he slowly, deliberately, licked his fingers clean.

“You really do taste very good you know” he said, winking at her. “You’ve earned a treat from Santa’s sack now”

Holly didn’t reply. She dropped to her knees in front of him and reached under his clothing for the button that held his trousers together. As she released the fixing, she couldn’t help but feel his excitement. She pressed her hands against him, rubbing his swollen member through the bright red fabric.

“You’re going to have to help me here” she said tugging at his clothing.

He responded by lifting himself from the chair just enough for her eager hands to pull his trousers and underwear down as far as his boots would allow. She placed her hands on his knees and pushed them apart, easing herself forward so that she knelt on the clothing around his ankles, pinning him in place. Lowering her head to one knee she began lightly kissing her way towards his crotch.

“I can see some Christmas balls” she said between kisses.

“Ho ho ho” he laughed, in character.

She reached out and took his shaft in her hand. The rock-hard flesh was hot and she could feel it throbbing. She would have to be gentle if she wanted him to last any time at all. Her other hand lifted the foam-padded belly and absurdly large belt buckle out of the way to give her more room. Her lips reached the base of his cock and she wrapped them around the side of his shaft, the same way she’d placed the candy cane in her mouth, teeth pressing gently into him just enough that she could hear his breath hiss through clenched teeth.

“Careful! or you’ll be getting a much harder spanking in a minute”

“Would you like me to stop?” She asked, before running her tongue up the length of his erection from base to glistening tip.

She didn’t wait for an answer before plunging and taking him entirely into her mouth. He took a sharp intake of breath as she slowly lifted her head, lips forming a seal around his shaft and hollows forming in her cheeks whilst she sucked. Her tongue pressed against his hot flesh as she moved, leaving a trail of saliva that was still sticky from the sweet candy. She focused on him entirely, no longer aware of her surroundings or anything but the feel of his throbbing cock in her mouth and the sound of his pleasure as she devoured it. She looked up and found him watching her intently as if memorising the sight for later. Their eyes locked and he sat, utterly mesmerised by the combination of the sight and sensations racing from his groin.

“Your turn.” Holly said lifting her head

She stood and moved to the table beside the chair. It was half covered in wrapped presents but there was enough space for her to perch on the edge. He stood and tripped as he tried to walk, forgetting his trousers were round his ankles. He caught a grip on the edge of the table as he fell and ended up knelt on the floor staring at the smiling Santa looking out from Holly’s thong.

“This has to come off” he said, hooking his fingers into the string that served as a waistband and tugged it down her legs, removing the thong and throwing it behind him. He began to kiss her legs, working his way up her inner thigh towards the glistening and inviting attraction waiting above her stocking tops. Holly writhed away from him and giggled.

“I hate to say it but the beard has to go.” she said “It tickles! and you don’t want to make it sticky”

“I’d love to take it off, but it’s glued on and I can’t put it back on in a hurry” He said. “I’ll just have to skip lunch and go straight for dessert”

He stood and stepped forward, grasping her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table. Lacing her hands behind his head she pulled him towards her. Their lips met and she abruptly pushed him away, sputtering and spitting out a mouthful of nylon fibres. Shrugging, as there wasn’t much he could do about the beard, he pressed ahead and eased his cock towards her only to find that the prosthetic belly was getting in the way. Holly was being smothered by the padded red costume and he couldn’t support her legs and hold the damned thing out of the way.

With that, he pulled her from the table and into his arms. She looked bemused, briefly, before he span her around and nudged her shoulders forwards.

“Let’s try it this way instead” he said, lifting his costume upwards and pressing his groin against her rosy buttocks. Placing her face a few inches from the table, Holly arched her back, standing on the tips of her toes to help him gain access. Bending his knees, he slid the tip of his erection down the crack of her arse until he felt the heat of her slick entrance against the tip of his cock. He moved slowly until it slipped inside, revelling in the sheer pleasure of her tight pussy sucking him in as he filled it.

Holly offered herself towards him, loving the feeling of his hard shaft stretching her. They moved gently at first, rocking against each other, relishing the slow slide of flesh in flesh. Grabbing her hips, he began to thrust harder. Holly gripped the table, holding herself as steady as she could whilst pushing back against his cock. The packages on the table began to rock in time with the action with each movement shifting them closer to the edge. Oblivious to anything but the exquisite sensations from his groin, he increased his pace, the rapid thrusting caused his balls to slap against her swollen clitoris. Holly, who was still teetering on the edge of a climax, found the combination of deep thrusts and the added stimulation to her sensitive clit an irresistible pleasure. She supressed the urge to cry out as her pussy clenched tightly around him and the orgasm ripped through her. Waves of ecstasy cascaded through her entire body as his pace began to slow. She felt his cock stiffen inside her, impossibly firm and swollen before pulsing hard, shooting his hot load into her sated pussy. They stayed that way, catching their breath, half stood, leaning across the table until he began to deflate inside her and the telltale oozing of their combined juices started to seep down her thighs.

“Did you see where my thong went?” Holly asked as they re-adjusted their clothing and prepared themselves for the next onslaught of excited parents and their offspring.

“I threw it behind me. Sorry”

“I can’t see it. It doesn’t matter, I’ll just have to go without” She replied. “Are you ready?”

“I was born ready” Santa said, winking as she went to re-open the grotto.

As Holly walked back in with the first child, he spotted something hanging from the tree behind her. Amongst the other decorations and just above a large pair of golden balls was a small triangle of material with the image of Santa grinning back at him.

© A.M Harding 2015.

Find more from A.M here…

Twitter: @A_M_Harding

Blog: http://shotoferotica.blogspot.com/

His first book “A Taste of Erotica is also available as an E-book for the Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HMTMGS6

In The Winter Of My Life by Sabine #CinnamonTreats

Regrets no more

Treats in store

Such a man to adore

I tiptoed towards life

I called him my dear

I delighted in his style

A culture to get close fear

I never would supply

I loved him more

A bit too much in his needs

He brought sensitivity and delights

Life is so much more

Please may I keep him for winter dawn

My warmed heart will be in Christmas sighs…

May you be blessed and enjoy life everyone  !

Merry Christmas and end of year to you all.

© Sabine (sabsam789)

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