Page 17 of Holidays and Handcuffs

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “That’s amazing. It must feel good to have that kind of relationship with them.”

There’s a quiet sadness in her voice, and I can’t help but feel a pang in my chest for her. I know her family situation is nothing like mine, and it frustrates me that she feels so alone in that aspect.

“Hey,” I say softly, nudging her leg with mine. “You know, just because things aren’t perfect with your parents doesn’t mean you can’t have that someday.”

She nods.

“Besides,” I add with a grin, “this might be the start of a new Christmas tradition. You, me, some questionable breakfast by the fireplace. Maybe a tree that actually gets decorated next year.”

That earns me a small, genuine laugh. “I’d like that. It sounds... nice.”

I let out a groan when I remember the Christmas dinner at her parents’ house is creeping up, and I can tell she’s not looking forward to it. Neither am I. The thought of being in that house, knowing how they’ve treated her, makes my blood boil. There’s something else hanging over my head.

She doesn’t know I testified against Billy. There’s no way she does. She would have mentioned it by now. Why didn’t anyone tell her?

Her parents certainly know it was me. They won’t be happy to see me, not after what I did, and part of me wonders if I should bring it up before we get there. But I can’t seem to bring it up.

“Do you have to go to work today?” she asks with a shy smile, her eyes darting to mine before quickly looking away.

“No,” I say with a smirk, raising a brow. “Getting bored of me already?”

Her face flushes an even deeper shade of red. “No, of course not. I’m actually really happy I get to spend the whole day with you.” She bites her lower lip, avoiding my gaze, and the sight sends a jolt of heat through me.

I lean in, my voice a low growl. “Just how sore are you?” Without waiting for an answer, I pull her onto my lap. She gasps, the sound making me harder, and I can feel her body react instantly.

“A little,” she admits, her breath hitching as she settles against me.

My gaze drops to where her nipples press against the fabric of my shirt, and I’m struggling to keep myself in check. “You want me to fuck you, Princess?” I ask, my voice rough with need.

She nods. I grip her waist tighter, my patience hanging by a thread. “Use your words,” I demand, my control slipping as the tension between us builds. Her eyes meet mine, full of desire. She’s not helping the situation at all, and I’m barely holding on.

“Please fuck me, Jack.”

And that’s all it takes.

Chapter 7

Emily

It’s a miracle I can still walk. Jack fucked me six ways to Sunday, and made me come more times than I can count. This is, without a doubt, my best Christmas ever.

And yet, here we are, standing on the doorstep of my parents’ house, and I wish with every fiber of my being that we didn’t have to be here.

I really don’t want to do this. I’d much rather be back in Jack’s arms, wrapped up in his warmth, instead of facing my parents and their inevitable judgment. But if I skip this dinner, I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Are you going to knock?” Jack asks sensing my hesitation. I suck in a sharp breath, exhale harshly before lifting my hand to the door.

The door swings open, and the moment my mother’s eyes land on Jack, her face twists into an expression of pure displeasure.

“Emily,” she says coldly, her gaze narrowing on Jack. “What are you doing with him and why is he here?”

Before I can respond, Jack takes a polite step forward. “Good evening, Mrs. Carter.”

“What are you doing in my home?!”

“Mom, Jack is my guest, can we please come in? It’s freezing out here.” I look between the two of them wondering what’s going on, but Jack’s expression is unreadable, and Mom looks like she’s about to murder him.

She reluctantly steps out of the way, and almost immediately as we step inside, my father emerges from the dining room. His eyes lock onto Jack, and his expression hardens.

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