Yeah! I got art being done for a Holiday Contest that i will announce next week. I am getting some of my favorite characters done… and so far, I have Flame (My Baby!) Pink, Declan (How Not to Date a Bear), and I am thinking my seahorse, Taza, from Absolute Perfection. What do you all think?
Now for the updates….
*Please note that nuckle headed husbands in recover do not make good webmaster update tools*
They pulled two of the three drainage tubes they put in his leg. WOO HOO! Maybe only two more weeks of tubage and then Mr. Burke can go back to work on light duties. That will be a relief to all of us because he is tired of being in the house and I am tired to trying to male him sit. I need to get him a behavior collar… Hmm….
So cute, yet so prone to misbehavior… all of them! LOL
Started a project with Cheryl Dragon and Wendi Zwaduk… let us pray this pans out cause it was so much fun to make.
Can you say Smoking Hot?
Beautiful Trouble has given me a Beautiful Cover for my Dark Erotic Zombie killing book, The Holy Dark….
And a lovely Avatar… *g* Looks like me, kind of… but hotter! LOL
And guess who’s back? Chris Kringle…. but this is more about his ace assassin Jack Frost in this holiday’s offering Santa’s Slay. I am not wild about the cover, but please… Check it out.
Rated R for Yeah, I really went there….
“You move and they all die,” Peter gasped, his eyes wide as he looked up at the man. “You agree to everything I say or everyone, these kind peace officers, the patients, the caring doctors, everyone in this hospital dies… including the children.”
He nodded and the man buried his hands in his locks, tugging at the tightly twisted hair, pulling his face into his neck.
“Very good,” he whispered. “You will call me Jack, I will take care of these annoyances and then we will leave this place. Understand?”
“Peter nodded again and the embrace tightened.
“Very good, Peter Snow. Because if you defy me in this, everyone will die and their blood will be upon your hands.”
“Yes, I am Dr. Snow,” he said, standing up tall and facing the officers. “Dr Jack Snow.”
“Your domestic partner—“ one began but was cut off.
“My husband, officer. I think you need to take sensitivity training or look into the laws that you say you uphold. Peter Snow is my husband and has been legally since the laws were passed.”
“I apologize for my partner,” the other interjected. “No insult intended.”
“I accept for the both of us,” Jack sneered, before he began petting Peter again.
“Your husband was assaulted near the corner of Light and Lee Streets—“
“I am so sorry,” Jack was whispering in his hair. “This is all my fault.”
“Explain,” the first insulting officer, the one Peter called the red Faced menace, stepped up.”
“I was rushing to Children’s Hospital in Washington—“ he stammered, running his hands over Peter’s back. “It took so much time to get into costume,” he waved at his outfit and his ears, “that I was rushing out of the house and forgot the bag of toys. University hospital,” he waved his hand around as if to point out the hospital they were standing in, “and its affiliates always get together and donate some of the newest electronic and hard to get devices to spice up the charity drive. They usually get easily breakable dolls and generic bears, so we try to give the children something that they actually want. This year it was heavy on the electronics and I would have felt really bad if the infirm children didn’t get at least one thing on their lists that hey actually wanted. So I asked Peter to bring the toys up.”
“And everyone knows about this?”
“Well,” he allowed, “I was ranting about my forgetfulness at the make- up artists studio, but almost everyone in these parts know that we give some really expensive toys. But the store who volunteered to collect the toys is very discrete—“
“And this is the holiday season,” the second officer, the nice one spoke softly. “People may have noticed the gift pick up, Dr. Snow. Is it always a the same place?”
“Then maybe someone noticed and decided to partake.” Turing to Peter, he asked kindly, “You said they were dressed like elves?”
“Y—yeah,” he stammered, torn between screaming for help and risking lives or playing along. He decided to play along. There was a air of menace about the man known as Jack that said he would carry out his threats in a heart beat if he didn’t cooperate. “There were three of them.” He answered honestly, not seeing a need to dissemble at this point. “They were dressed as elves.”
“And the pick up point?”
“Punky Brewster’s,” Jack answered and Peter had to stare at him in shock. If he was going to make up names, at least he could make up one that sounded even plausible.
“Punky Brewster’s,” the mean cop nodded, writing it down in his book. “Where is that exactly?”
“At Light Street and Your Momma.”
Peter opened his mouth, to say Lord knows what, but the cop nodded and make notations in his book.”
“That’s not a very well lit area at night,” he offered before turning to Peter. “You were very lucky, Sir. Maybe next year you would consider having the drop off and pick up here at University? If word is out on the street, the electronics drop will never be safe again.”
“I hear there is growing gang activity in the area,” Jack nodded solemnly. “Satan’s Elves have been sending people here will all kinds of candy cane related injuries. And not too long ago we had assault with toy soldiers. Someone turned one into an anal plug and it was hell to get out of that poor man’s ass.”
“Yeah, all those small moving parts,” bad cop nodded, his voice gruff when he spoke. “The Elves are trying to get a foot hold here. But not on my watch.”
It was at this point that Peter decided to take a good look around him, and maybe spot the cameras that had to be recording this for some sort of sick reality TV show. But instead of hidden camera’s, he found the hospital was growing chiller than normal. He looked towards the vents on the ceiling and gaped in surprise as he watched a thin wave of cold smoke rise up. He followed the barely visible smoke to its source and found it was emanating from Jack himself.
“We’re going to need an address—“ Good cop was saying now and curiously, Peter turned to Jack.
“We live on the corner of Ass-Kiss and My Balls,” Jack spoke as he pet Peter’s hair. “It’s an exclusive community, Sixty- nine Sixty- Nine My Balls Lane, the standard spelling, of course.”
“Of course,” the cop nodded and made another note.
“That’s about it,” the bad cop nodded as a doctor bustled in.
“Jack,” he rested a hand on the tall ice-blonds shoulder before turning to Peter. “We have taken good care of your boy. There are some lacerations and some contusions, but a few stitches straightened that out. Peter should have no scaring as a result and the bruises should fade in time. No concussion and his MRI’s came back clear. You are free to get him out of here as soon as you sign the paperwork,”
Jack ignored the officers of the law and scanned the papers before handing them over to Peter. “Will you sign these?”
“Anything to get out of here, he muttered. They were indeed release forms so he scribbled his name across the bottom of the papers, initialing where indicated.
There had to be something to this Jack, he thought. He should be terrified and trying anything in his power to get away. But he was blithely going along with whatever the strange scary man wanted.
He looked back up at jack and gasped as the eyes he though of as merely gray began to swirl with silver sparkles.
They were kind of hypnotizing, actually, he thought as the world began to fade around him. They gave him a nice fuzzy feeling, actually….
When Peter next became aware of anything, he was naked and strapped down to a padded table.
Before he could take in more of the room and his body bound at the forearms, wrists, thighs and ankles, the door slid open and the man of his dreams… nightmares really, walked in.
“Good Moring, Peter,” Jack grinned, showing off the whitest– sharpest set of teeth that he had ever seen. He chest was bare, his pale skin glowing in the din light of the room. His lower body was encased in the same blood red leather thought his feet were bare. His long hair hung free, a silvery frame for his tall muscular body. “Time to get to work.”
He slammed the flogger against his leather-covered thigh, something that made Peter wish that he were back in the la-la land he recently had awakened from. “Merry Christmas.”
Yeah, Merry Fucking Christmas, he thought as Jack moved closer. The room dropped in temperature and thought he should have been scared out of his mind, there was a tingle of something that was pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. Excitement. He looked down as his cock gave a twitch then he looked back at Jack. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.
Until Wednesday, people! *g* Loves you all!