A Perfect Man for Christmas

A Perfect Man for Christmas
An erotic serial in 12 parts
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12 days of Christmas banner
 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
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
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
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
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.
My sigil…
Wynter! What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted as he leaped onto the stage.
Check of Bella’s great books at http://www.bellajuarez.com/ 
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