A Perfect Man for Christmas Revisited

We had so much fun with this story last year that we are bringing it back for a second view.  A group of authors we love created this story for all us fans as a free Christmas gift.  Read and enjoy.  And if you love it, support these amazing authors by buying their books. 

 

 

The full story will be posted three a day for the next four days so check back daily for each piece of the story.  Remember this is an erotic story and not work friendly.

 

A Perfect Man for Christmas

An erotic serial in 12 parts

 1st Day of Christmas

by Laurie Olerich

Christmas was coming, but Wynter wasn’t feeling festive. She was in-between men at the moment--and not in a kinky, sweaty threesome kind of way. Oh, she’d had dry spells before. That wasn’t a problem--usually. It was the timing that was problematic. This was a special year. The sun and moon and stars were aligned just so. Most women survived the holidays in spite of their single status. She was not most women. No. She most certainly was not. Leaning forward with a satin pillow clutched to her chest, she nibbled the tip of one claw and searched for an answer. There had to be a way out of this mess. She really liked her head attached to her body.  Before a plan presented itself, her phone rang, sending a shiver down her spine.

It was him. Right on schedule.

As the church bells tolled the hour of midnight, Wynter arched her back, rocking her pelvis to match the furious rhythm of the man kneeling between her thighs. With his shaggy head flung back, neck straining with effort, he dug his fingers into her hips as he slammed into her with a shout just as her muscles contracted and she shattered around him with a cry of her own. As their breathing settled to something close to normal, Michael leaned forward to drag his mouth across her belly, dropping soft kisses over the newly inked tat that graced her hipbone.

“Sexy. I like that you’ve used my sigil.” His green eyes smoldered with passion as he traced the intricate symbol with the tip of his tongue. Nipping playfully, he held her impaled on his cock, shaking his head at her frown as she tried to move away.

“You say that like I had a choice. This was your order. I would’ve preferred a hummingbird.” She stopped squirming and bit her lower lip as his cock hardened for another round. With a mind of its own, her pussy twitched in welcome.

Come on in, big boy!

Love him? Hate him? It didn’t matter. Her body wanted him anytime. Anyplace. They’d been down this road more times than she could count. It wasn’t healthy, but who was she to argue? Her family’s future depended on keeping this creature happy. If she had to let him give her a screaming orgasm every now and then, she’d have to make that sacrifice. Taking one for the team... As if sensing her surrender, he let his mouth curl into a rare smile that promised pleasure.

Her tongue played along her lower lip as she met his stare with a challenge in her eyes. He was beautiful. No one could say otherwise. His smoky green eyes stripped her defenses to leave her naked and wanting. Her sisters said he could see into your soul. Maybe he could. Rumor had it he wasn’t human. Human or not, he was impossible to resist.

“We’re almost out of time, Wynter. Are you ready for me?”

Without breaking her gaze, she trailed a fingertip across the flushed skin of his throat and turned his chin downward. “I’m always ready for you.”

“Good girl.” He flashed his smile one last time before turning her around so she knelt on her knees. Clutching her hips close, he began to move with long, slow strokes that filled her to the good side of pain. She didn’t bother to smother the moan that escaped. God, he feels so good. To hell with Christmas. She tilted her hips to take him even deeper and gasped as his cock brushed that sweet spot deep inside. Closing her eyes, she shut out everything but the coiling pleasure in her belly. There’d be time for regret tomorrow.

Thirty minutes later, they lay sprawled in a tangle of tanned arms and long legs, too exhausted to move, not really awake, but not totally asleep. Craving one last touch, she tucked her face into his shoulder and drifted off.

“Don’t forget it’s your turn to bring a man this year.” His husky tone softened the threat in his words but it was impossible to miss.

She’d comply with his wishes or she’d beg for death. “Yeah, yeah. Beg for death. I--”

With eyes gleaming in the dim light, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Don’t test me, Wynter. You know the rules. Bring the man.”

All righty then. So much for the afterglow.  She had her orders. She would find the perfect man and bring him to Christmas dinner. That’s the story she’d tell Mr. Perfect when she found him. The truth was so much worse.

When she eased awake the next morning, Michael was nowhere in sight. Even the indention of his head on the pillow was gone. She brought her fingers to her nose and breathed deeply, searching for some hint of his scent. Nothing. As usual, there was not a single trace of his presence. It was as if he didn’t exist at all.

Except this time, he’d left a note on the nightstand.

This could not possibly be good.

Go to the courtyard.

Using the sheet as a sarong, torn between excitement and fear, she padded through the house until she came to the French doors that led to the frozen gardens of the courtyard.

Closing her eyes against the painful site, she groaned, “He didn’t.”

There, in the center of the tiny courtyard, stood a tree.

A pear tree to be exact. And in that tree huddled a partridge. One sad, lonely, fat partridge. The bird’s head swiveled in her direction; it’s beady eyeball zeroing in on her.

“And so it begins.”

Check out Laurie's website for her awesome books at http://www.laurieolerich.com/

 2nd Day of Christmas

by Elaine Barris

Michael crunched through the ice and snow on the sidewalk as he made his way to the beast of a car sitting in Wynter’s driveway. His cock twitched at the memory of being inside her tight heat. She belonged to him as much as the 12 cylinder. If she didn’t already know he owned her, she would by the time this holiday was over.

“Fucking right, she will,” he growled and punched the car to life.

He eased himself back into the seat, flinching at the pain of where she had laced her talons down his back in passion as she writhed in undulating waves of orgasmic bliss. His flesh had mended enough to not be bleeding in rivers, but it stung.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he drew it out, looking at the name displayed.

“Yeah? What do you want?”

“Where do I deliver the package?”

The sound of chirping and flapping birds was in the background.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘where do you deliver the package?’”

“What?” Gustav yelled.

Michael held the phone away from his ear before yelling back, 

“Where do you think you’re supposed to deliver it?”

“There’s no address listed on the shipping label.”

“I’m surrounded by fucking idiots!”

“Michael, sir, I-- ”

“Forget it! Like everything else in this operation, I have to do this myself. Leave it where it is, and I’ll take care of it.”

He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and shifted into reverse, muttering to himself about the lack of good help.

Minutes later, he maneuvered the growling car up the ramp into the warehouse where he kept his business. Shifting into park, he threw the car door open with such force it bounced back, slamming him inside before he had moved to get out.

“Goddamn it.”

Gustav came running up to the car. Feathers were stuck to his face and hands; a few quills were between the rims of his glasses and head.

After opening the door more gently, Michael got out of the car and faced his inept employee.

“What the fuck happened?”

“They got out, sir.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know, sir, but they are trapped inside your office. We were able to seal the room.”

Throwing his fingers through his hair, Michael tapped his boots on the concrete floor as he thought about what a clusterfuck he was in. If he didn’t get those damned winged creatures back into the birdcage and delivered, there’d be hell to pay.

He turned his head to look towards his office, seeing the birds sitting on his coat rack in the corner.

Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

“Come on.” He pointed across the room to the golden contraption they had somehow escaped. “Bring it with you.”

Stalking over to the room, he stopped when he took hold of the door knob and looked behind him at Gustav.

“On the count of three.”

Gustav nodded and a few feathers fell from his clothes to the ground.

Michael went through the countdown, and then opened the door with his lackey at his heels.

“What the--” Michael said as his feet slipped out from underneath him, and he fell backwards, taking Gustav to the floor with him. 

“Shut the door!” he yelled as the birds saw their opening and took flight.

The latch closed before the two turtle doves were able to find their escape.

The men got up, and Michael raised his hands in front of his face and cursed, seeing them covered in the white slime of the birds’ excrement.

“Oh, dear.” Gustav handed him his handkerchief, and Michael grabbed it, wiping his hands as he looked at the dotted floor.

“Open the cage.”

Michael lunged at the nearest bird, taking it by its feet as it fought him to not be confined. Thrusting its squawking body inside the cage, Michael locked it in, and then went to battle the other.

That one was crafty and flew through air, dodging the men’s attempts to capture it.

“Stop,” Michael ordered, and then they waited for the winged menace to settle down.

When it did, it landed on Gustav’s head and started pecking his scalp.

“Ow!” Gustav jerked at the pain of the pricks into his skin as pieces of his hair were plucked out.

“Don’t you fucking move.” Michael avoided looking the dove in the eyes as he waited until the perfect moment.

“Sir.”

“Shut up.”

Then the bird began to coo in a serenade of love to its partner who was locked up.

“That’s right,” Michael whispered, and in a flash of motion, snatched the bird by the neck from the nest it had been making out of 

Gustav’s tresses and thrust it into the cage.

Lifting it by the handle, he took it to Gustav’s vehicle.

“Give me your keys. I’m not letting these things shit all over my leather.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied and handed them over.

Michael sat the birds in the truck’s passenger seat, securing it by latching the seatbelt around it. After getting into the driver’s seat and starting up the engine, he rolled the window down for fresh air.

“Wynter had better find ‘the man’ after all of this. I did my part. Found the two fucking turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.”

Check out Elaine's website for more of her terrific books - 

http://elainebarris.weebly.com/

 3rd Day of Christmas

by Kitten K. Jackson

I cannot disappoint Michael. Hmmm… Where to find the man… Where does anyone find a guy? If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be single!

Along with finding a man for the ceremony, Wynter was also responsible for bringing three French hens to her mother’s house for Christmas dinner. The contrast between the two duties made her giggle at the absurdity of it all.

Cooking? Really? And why do they need to be French? What difference does it make? A chicken is a freakin’ chicken, right? “Don’t forget to save and bring the broth!” What does that even mean? 

What the hell is broth?

After a shower and a primping session, she went to her closet and took out a short black dress and her favorite boots, which had four-inch heels. Once she was completely dressed, minus panties, she posed in front of her full-length mirror. She leaned over, adjusting her bra, bringing all the weight of her breasts forward. When she stood, she admired their fullness. She tugged at the plunging neckline, exposing as much of her cleavage as possible.

The hard part is finding him. Hooking him will be easy.

Wynter decided to go to a club where the men would be primed and ready for the taking. As she entered the building and paid her cover, she felt eyes upon her. One intense blue pair caught her attention. 

They belonged to a tall man with black hair who wore his jeans, dark t-shirt, and black leather jacket like a boss. The way his gaze roamed her body said all she needed to know.

She gave him a sexy grin and a wink. She then turned and walked toward the bar. Before she could order, he was beside her.

“Put her drink on my tab, Joe.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks. I’ll have a rum and Coke, please.”

“What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Well, it’s not gorgeous. It’s Wynter. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m Wes.”

After finding a table, sitting down, finishing her drink, and engaging in a few minutes of small talk, Wynter placed her hand on Wes’s thigh. His impassioned stare left nothing to the imagination.

“Come on,” she said.

Without hesitation, or even saying a word, he stood and followed her. She grasped his hand as she led him out the door and into the parking lot. She practically ran around to the back of the building with him on her heels.

When she stopped, he grabbed her and covered her mouth with his full wet lips, while his arms went around her waist, and his hands groped her with abandon. Her hand moved to his crotch and found proof of his lust for her—he was like granite.

“You want me, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” he said between hot breaths. “Am I hard enough for you? Big enough?”

“Oh, you’ll do just fine.”

He looked around and saw the vehicles belonging to the employees at the club. He walked her backwards toward one of the older cars, and then he lifted her, placing her on the hood. She leaned back on her elbows as he lifted her legs, spreading them apart and diving between them. She watched as he feasted upon her, knowing she had found the right man.

He will do just fine indeed.

As his tongue worked her clit, two fingers slid inside and out, then back in again, taking her even higher. Within a couple of minutes, she grasped hands full of his hair above his ears, pulling him closer into her. He moaned at her fervor as she cried out her orgasm.

When her breathing began to slow, he moved up and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her own taste and scent drove her mad with desire for him, but she was on a mission, and it had to come first.

Pulling away from his luscious mouth, she looked into those 

eyes—ones she thought could have power over her if she allowed it, rather than the other way around.

“I need you,” he said.

“Oh, don’t I know it? I need you, too, lover. But there’s something I need more than your cock right now.”

“What?”

His mind was muddled by the lack of blood flow to his brain. The thought of anything other than slamming into her wet and hungry core was of no interest to him.

“It’s important, Wes. I need a favor.”

“I’ll do anything you want. Anything,” he said, as he lowered the zipper on his jeans. “But I need to be inside you.”

“No. I’ll let you have me any way you want me, but first, you must come with me to a very special Christmas dinner.”

“What are you talking about? I want you bad, baby, but I’m not doing the holiday family thing.”

“No! It’s not like that. Not a family thing.”

“Whatever. Yeah, I’ll go with you.”

“You have to give me your word before I take care of you.”

“I said I would go!”

She reached down and grabbed his cock while flashing a wicked grin. His excitement showed in his features when she eased off the hood of the car and went to her knees on the concrete.

She took him into her mouth, caressing him with her tongue while gently rubbing his balls. She got him off in no time. She then swallowed and stood, wiping her mouth.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Nervously avoiding eye contact, he said, “Baby, I’m sorry, but a friend came here with me tonight, and I can’t leave him without a ride.”

“He can take a cab.”

“I can’t do that to him.”

“We have a deal!”

“Sorry but thanks. It was awesome.”

Pressing her body against his, she glared into his eyes while fighting to keep her claws from appearing.

“You will go with me, or you will die right here, right now.”

To catch up on Kitten's books, visit her website at http://www.kittenkjackson.com/