A Perfect Man for Christmas
An erotic serial in 12 parts
Blog HOP
7th Day of Christmas
by Isobelle Cate
Wynter
stirred in her sleep, her eyelids moving as she surfaced into
consciousness. A low roar. Why was there a low roar in her room? She
opened her eyes, slowly blinking, and saw that rain was falling
steadily outside her window. The next thing she noticed was the heavy
band around her waist, the warm hand that cupped her breast, and the
wall of muscle heating her back. Her stomach concaved when she
gasped. In all the times she and Michael had fucked, he had never
stayed… she looked at her bedroom window … until … the …
morning.
She
eased around slowly to look at him. The harsh planes of his face were
not as dangerous looking when he was asleep. The light stubble that
shadowed his jaw made him incredibly sexy. She raised her finger to
trace the contours of his mouth that gave her so much pleasure for
hours until she asked him to stop. He didn’t. He gave her wave upon
tidal wave of orgasmic bliss that left her boneless and sated. Just
the thought made her body needy once more, desperately seeking
Michael inside her again.
“You
finished watching me sleep?” His deep rumble vibrated through her
body all the way to her core.
Wynter
didn’t stop the smile that curved her lips. “You’ve never
stayed before. Couldn’t pass the chance to see the one who marked
me with his sigil, in sleep, could I? I might not get the chance
again.”
His
mouth tilted upwards showing his even, white teeth. “Keep your end
of the agreement and you’ll get to see more of me in the morning.”
“Ugh!”
She whirled out of his embrace, tossed the quilt that covered them
and jumped out of bed, naked. “Talk about a fuck me mood killer.”
Michael’s
soft laughter only infuriated her more.
Grabbing
a set of clean jogging pants and T-shirt, she left the room, slamming
the door in satisfaction. Perhaps making coffee from scratch would
allow her irritation to bleed out from her. She loved this part of
the morning; grinding the coffee beans and allowing the fresh burst
of flavour to lend its smell to the kitchen she hardly used for
cooking.
She
looked out of the window that overlooked her garden and the Jacuzzi
which was now overflowing with water.
“Damn.”
A crease marred her forehead. She hadn’t thought of covering the
liquid massager last night despite the fact that the skies had
already been overcast the day before, threatening to unload its
burden. But it never did. Now with the rain pelting the roof, the
house felt isolated from the outside world. If Michael hadn’t
annoyed her so much, they would have continued where they left off
and the kitchen would have seen more action than it had in the last
few months.
Wynter
sighed. Not being able to find a man for Christmas was making her
miserable. Add the stormy weather and she could have a psychotic
breakdown. She sipped her coffee as she stared out into the pouring
rain, lost in thought.
Conjure
a man.
Wynter
blinked.
That
was it! Surely her family’s Five Golden Rings tome would
have something about conjuring a man for a brief span of time. There
should be some harmless spell in that tome that had all sorts of
writings, it was practically a grimoire.
“Got
any left?” Michael leaned against the doorway. His jeans rode low
on his hips, the waist unbuttoned. The taut muscles of his arms
pushed and slid underneath his bronze skin when he lifted his arms to
rake his fingers through his already tousled hair. Wynter’s own
hands itched to run through those dark tresses as she lay on the
table with his face between her thighs….
No,
first things first.
“Here.”
She handed him her mug as she passed, the coffee nearly sloshing over
the rim.
“Where
are you going?” he called as she rushed up the stairs.
“Be
right back!”
Michael
turned from the window when Wynter returned carrying the tome. She
flipped through the pages. Her face, a mask of concentration. As soon
as Michael saw what it was, he scowled.
“Wynter,”
he warned.
“You
didn’t say I couldn’t use magick.” She shot him a glare.
Michael
glared back before looking away. “Go right ahead. I doubt you’d
be able to do it.”
“Still
worth a shot.” Her finger ran down the pages looking for that
elusive spell.
May
her ancestors forgive her if she made a mistake. Wynter couldn’t
remember the last time she dabbled in the arcane arts, but time was
running out for her. She ran out of the house and into the driving
rain. She didn’t want to destroy the only abode she had, and if
fire came out of her fingers, the water would quickly douse it.
Michael followed her at a more leisurely pace, sipping from their
shared mug.
Evaporation
and condensation must have been pretty busy because her backyard was
now waterlogged and resembled a lake. With her eyes closed, the water
raining on her like a benediction, Wynter chanted the spell. A roar
filled her ears and she felt the water lap at her feet.
“What
the fuck? More avians?” Michael shouted in disbelief.
Wynter
opened one eye in trepidation, then the other in stupefaction. Her
mouth agape, she stared at the seven swans swimming in her
waterlogged garden. Black and white, they moved like the squares of a
chessboard that could have come from Hogwarts.
“I
told you, you wouldn’t be able to do it.” Michael shook his head.
“You’re supposed to create a man, Wynter, not more animals who
peck their food.”
“Well,
men can be animals when they fuck and peck isn’t too far away from
pecker which all of you have.”
“Don’t
test me.” Michael’s face darkened. “It’s not funny.”
Wynter
stifled her laughter at the same time she wiped the water from her
face. She shivered in the cold but Michael’s face was priceless.
“What? They’re just a bunch of birds. What do you have against
them?”
“Nothing,”
he muttered. “You’ve got five days left.”
That
slowly wiped the smile from her face. Huffing and shaking her head,
she said, “The bars didn’t prove successful.” She worried her
lower lip before she brightened, stepping to enter the house. “I
know. I’ll case hotel lobbies.”
“And
the birds?” Michael looked at them warily, stepping to the side of
the doorway to allow Wynter to enter.
She
pirouetted to face him, tracking wet prints on the floor. “In the
spirit of Christmas, I’ll give one each to the hotels I visit. I’ll
need a ride though.” She winked, laughing at Michael’s scowl.
Check out Isobelle's books at https://isobellecate.wordpress.com/
Check out the next part of the story -
My Secret Romance Book Reviews
And
don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter for a chance to win a $25
Amazon gift card, courtesy of the Inner Goddess Blog!
No comments:
Post a Comment