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 -
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/
Abigail Lee Justice writes emotional, erotic, romantic suspense that includes a BDSM theme. She creates strong characters who seem real but are flawed in some ways; some couples Happily Ever After will be a work in process. Some characters’ problems are just too steamy to fix in one book. 
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