Bought for Christmas(8)

By: Doris O Connor

There was a timid knock on her door, and then Jenny stuck her head round the corner. Their elderly housekeeper wasn’t privy to the details of their arrangement, and her eyes widened when she took in Emilia’s appearance.

“Oh my, you look stunning Miss Emilia, and your … erm, date is here.”

Emilia smiled at her, and Jenny stepped further into the room and took her bag off of her.

“Are you sure you packed enough for the weekend, Miss? I mean this is awfully light, and with it being Christmas and all…”

Her words trailed off when Emilia touched her shoulder and nodded.

“I’m sure. Don’t you worry over me, or Papa or Leo. They will no doubt spend Christmas drunk as skunks, and I’m glad you’ve got your family to go to.” Emilia couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice, and Jenny pulled her in for an impromptu hug.

“I’ll be okay, you’ll see. You just enjoy Christmas with your new grandson,” Emilia said.

Jenny released her, and her whole face lit up as though a candle shone from within.

“Oh, I will. He’s just the right age now to take it all in, even if we had to tie down the Christmas tree to make sure he can’t pull it on top of himself. To see it all through his eyes is just magical.”

Emilia smiled and blinked back tears. Here she was about to go out on a wild weekend of sex and debauchery, and her housekeeper was going to have the sort of Christmas Emilia desperately wanted for herself. A husband, children, laughter and joy, just like it used to be in this house when she was growing up, and the man who had bought her for his nefarious ends used to bounce her on her knee until she laughed so much she snorted.

How things changed and not for the better.

She shut her eyes and willed her fragile emotions back under control. She wasn’t a child anymore, and if Hunter took her on his knee now it would be either to fuck her or spank her and that thought really shouldn’t make her wetter. This coming weekend had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with getting her rocks off. As long as she remembered that, she would be able to enjoy it for what it was and take those memories back home with her, when she returned to her tiny flat in Toddington, and resumed her work as a community midwife.

Just like the day her world had changed forever and she had lost the last of the respect for her father she’d clung onto, Papa stood in the doorway to his study, Leo at his side. Both men scowled at Hunter. Dressed in another of his tailor-made suits, Hunter looked good enough to eat. The heated approval in his amber eyes, as he let his gaze slowly sweep up from the tips of her toes, all the way along her body until he reached her face, meant Emilia had to grab the banister for support. The descent down those stairs seemed an insurmountable obstacle all of a sudden, and Emilia pulled a breath into her oxygen starved lungs when he smiled and inclined his head.

“You look stunning, kitten.”

His voice dropped as he spoke, taking on that delicious growl that meant she clamped her thighs together to stop the gush of her juices slipping past her pussy lips. She would die of embarrassment if it became that obvious how much she wanted this. Needed it, even.

Jenny descended down the stairs before her, and Hunter gestured to the front door.

“Will you please put that in the boot of my car, Jenny? It’s open.”

Jenny hurried to comply, and somehow Emilia made it down those stairs in one piece.

“Make sure you keep to your part of this, girl,” her father said, and Emilia froze on the bottom step. Hunter growled low in his throat, and both her father and brother paled and took several steps back, and threw him worried glances.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Emilia forced the words past her parched lips, and bit back the emotion clogging her throat. She would not cry. She would not. Once she did this, she would never have to come back here. Let them both rot in their stink. She had a life to live, and if either one of them had showed the slightest bit of remorse she would have reconsidered that decision, but the opposite had been true. Her father had lamented on it being her duty to help out the family, and she could finally earn her keep. That had stung the most, as though she hadn’t done her best to support them all this time. As though he had ever lifted a finger to help her achieve her dreams. Far from it. When she had refused to marry the suitor he wanted her to in an effort to marry into old money, he had washed his hands off her.