A Perfect Man for Christmas
An erotic serial in 12 parts
9th Day of Christmas
by Bella Juarez
I need a fucking drink…
Michael made a hasty exit from the swank hotel with Wynter in-tow. He’d be damned if he was leaving her with all those naked men and Kris, so he’d sent her on her way. He tried to recall an end of solstice ritual that had gone worse.
Actually those few years during the Black Death were worse…
Comforted by the fact that nothing could be worse than the Black Death, he leaned forward to fire up the purring engine of his favorite girl.
At least this one doesn’t talk back…
The feel of Wynter’s talons tearing his back to shreds during one of their more rambunctious fucks made his cock twitch and a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling or lose the lovely taste of her. He sat back for a moment and wondered what would happen if she didn’t bring the perfect man home for the holiday. Who started this ritual and why, when the stars and planets aligned just so, did they need it? Would their world, as they knew it really go to hell in a handbasket?
Wait. I’m from hell; it’s not that bad.
He glanced wistfully at the gilded doors of the hotel and placed his hand on the gearshift. Before he could shift gears and let out the clutch, a thud shook his vehicle and him down to his ancient bones.
Bloody hell! What now? He threw open the door ready to do battle with whatever it was that had harmed his vehicle.
One of Wynter’s damn geese had decided to hitchhike. He stretched out his arms and looked to the heavens, pushed back his sleeves and started to unleash a spell that would level an entire modern city block. But when he caught the eye of the already scared valet, he opted to grab the gangly goose by its fat legs and toss it toward the hotel staff now gathered at the curb. An angry flying goose sent his gawkers scurrying. He slipped back into the driver’s seat and took off, spinning the tires as he floored the gas.
The hotel and goose disappeared in his rear window in a haze of white smoke. A drink at his favorite high-end gentlemen’s club would be just the thing to take his mind off of this whole ordeal—and Wynter, who seemed to be getting under his skin more than usual. He was at the club before he knew it. This valet knew how to handle his baby. Michael handed him the keys and an extra hundred dollar bill.
“You know what to do.”
“Thank you, sir. And yes, sir, I’ll take good care of her.”
Michael sauntered up to the front entrance, and the man who stood sentry outside with a clip board, unhooked the rope and stepped aside.
“Sir, should I call ahead for your suite?”
Michael entered the noisy club and noticed not all of the stages were busy. He found that odd. A soft brush at his elbow made him flinch and turn suddenly.
Who the hell dares to touch me?
As tall as he was, he found his gaze level with sea-green eyes, and for a moment, he found himself breathless.
“Morgan? What are you doing here?”
The tall woman with the bewitching, sea-green eyes and long, midnight-black hair smiled a slow, evil smile. A perfectly arched eyebrow rose at his question.
“It’s my place; why wouldn’t I be here?”
Her soft Irish brogue was as smooth as the leather she wore. She could charm the life from a man if he wasn’t careful. Thankfully, Michael’s humanity had almost been fully stripped from him but the Morgan still had an effect on him.
“Why aren’t you preparing for the gathering? Your due will be paid. In full.”
Her soft laughter rose above the crowd and sent a chill down his spine him like almost no one else could.
“Oh, my sweet pet. My dues will never be paid in full. However, if your little hound from hell comes through, then I’ll be sated… for a while. Now let me show you to your suite.”
“When did you buy this place?”
As she opened the door, she laughed. “I took it in trade. The beast who owned it before me didn’t know how to negotiate, nor did he know how to take care of his property. The staff, especially the girls, were miserable.” She walked to the bar and took out a highball glass and filled it with two fingers of dark amber liquid. “Now that they’re being paid a proper wage and someone actually takes care of them, I’ve attracted some of the finest talent around.”
Michael took the glass of scotch and glanced out the mirrored window toward the floor.
“It looks empty. By now, all of the stages are usually full.” He took a sip. “That’s good scotch.”
“Life is too short for bad liquor. It’s early, darlin’. Don’t worry, it’ll pickup and when it does, enjoy the show.”
Michael flopped down into the soft leather chair and watched the night progress. Morgan had sent a bartender to keep the drinks flowing. No matter how much he drank he couldn’t quit thinking about Wynter. His exclusive bartender, a voluptuous redhead with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, left no doubt that she was his, all of her, for the night. He wondered what the hell had gone wrong with him; he’d never pass up an invitation like that. Back a few months ago, he’d have fucked her until she screamed for mercy. Wynter never screams for mercy… He shook his head; what had his little hound from hell done to him? What transpired between him and her family was business, and he needed to stay focused. She had to find a man, and his homage to Morgan had to be fulfilled.
Focusing, he glanced out over the floor. He sensed the excitement rising around a lone stage that was still empty. The rest of the stages were full and busy. The girls were making money hand over fist, and the drinks were clearly flowing if the large number of topless waitstaff he saw weaving through the crowd was any indication. Along with the throngs of people out on the floor, he leaned forward in his chair in anticipation as the lone stage light and the spotlight moved over the crowd.
“What’s going on out there?” he asked the bartender.
“A new girl. I hear she’s out of this world.”
The music blared above the crowd and was so loud he could hear it clearly in his private suite. There were now nine ladies dancing on each of the stages, but one had now taken previously empty center stage.
The sweet Jezebel had come on stage in a traditional harem outfit. The entire crowd was mesmerized as she moved like a tigress. As the first scarf floated to the stage floor, he came to his feet. His eyes traced the dancer’s lithe body, and his dick instantly went to a full, painful, rock-hard erection. As the remaining scarves she wore fell one by one to the stage, the men at her feet fought over them.
Michael raced out onto the club floor, compelled to get a closer look at this new, bewitching beauty. Something about her held him like no one else could. Her lower face was covered by a veil, and when he got closer, their eyes locked. She made him feel as if she was dancing for him and him alone. He tore his gaze away from her hypnotic eyes and watched her delicate hand pluck a scarf from her hip. The unique tattoo on her hip was unusual and he took a closer look.
“Wynter! What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted as he leaped onto the stage.
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