Bought for Christmas(7)

By: Doris O Connor


Emilia kicked him in the shin, and pointedly looked at his hands on her shoulders, until he let her go with a muffled curse.

“Some fucking choice. If I don’t agree to this, I’m letting everyone down, and you can sugarcoat this any which way you want, but you bought me, so in my eyes that makes me a whore.” She put her hand on his mouth when he opened it to say something, and continued.

“The worst thing is, all you had to do was ask me out. I would have jumped at the chance to get to know you. Now, this is all sordid and just plain wrong.”

She shrugged out of his coat and handed it to him.

“Get your lawyers to draw up some damn contract and I’ll stick to my side of the bargain. Just let me know where you want me.”

She turned on her heel and marched away from him, head held high, and Hunter felt every ounce the beast he was rumored to be.

She would never believe him now, if he told her the real reason for this.





Chapter Three



The deep rumble of Hunter’s sports car announced his arrival, and Emilia took a deep breath and wiped her clammy hands on the side of her dress. If you could call the itty bitty little thing he’d sent for her to wear a dress. Clinging to every one of her curves, the burgundy designer creation had a deep neckline, low back, and a hemline that ended just above the top of her stockings. As per his instructions she wore the lacy black bra he’d also sent, together with a lacy garter belt and sheer stockings. The unfamiliar heels she wobbled in meant she would at least be able to kiss him without having to stand on tiptoes.

Now where had that thought come from? Emilia studied herself in the floor length mirror, and frowned. This was a business deal, nothing to get excited about, yet her face was flushed, her nipples hard little beacons clearly outlined against the silk of her dress, and she was breathing so fast she threatened to spill out of her cleavage.

She had to give it to him. He had got her size just right, and even though she would never in a million years, have chosen this outfit for herself, she liked what she saw in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her looked sophisticated and sexy, rather than slutty.

The doorbell rang, and Emilia’s insides tightened in need when she heard the deep rumble of his voice carrying up the stairs. Taking another deep breath she picked up her overnight bag. It contained little else but toiletries and a going home outfit, and she groaned as the action shifted the egg he had insisted she wear inside her pussy.

Emilia clenched around it, and her arousal grew as the thing shifted and rubbed against her g-spot with every step she took.

Part of the contract had been detailed instructions on how she was to prepare for her weekend, and Emilia shook her head in wonder. It hadn’t come as a total surprise that Hunter was a Dom. She’d guessed that from the way he carried himself, and how one look of his could reduce her to a simpering mess. Emilia had dabbled in the lifestyle at university, so filling out her soft and hard limits should have been easy, were it not for the fact that imagining Hunter’s large hands on her, doing the things he so avidly described in his instructions to her, had her so aroused that she’d had to seek her own relief more than once, before she could complete her task.

Fortunately he hadn’t added a no self-pleasuring rule to his list, or Emilia might have gone up in flames. Having to insert the increasing size of butt plugs to prepare herself for his taking her anally at some point over her stay with him, had been enough to send her into a frenzy. Experienced as she was, she’d struggled accepting the last size, and she hadn’t been able to help but wonder how big he was. If it was true that the size of a man’s hands gave a good indication of the size of his cock, then lord help her. The man was massive in a bear sort of a way that made her feel oh so small and delicate despite her size and height. At five foot nine she was tall for a woman, yet he still towered over her.

The medical statement he’d included in his list, confirming that he was free of any diseases, had given her renewed palpitations. His preference was to not use condoms, and she had signed her consent on the dotted line with shaking hands. There was no need for them, not with her contraception shot up to date, but it had been another indication of how meticulously he had planned all this. The man had thought of everything, it seemed.

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