Page 11 of His Christmas Gift

“Um, um.” Why do I have to sound so stupid. I’m with a sexy man who must want me since he made an agreement to use me however he wants for three months. “Sure. Sounds good.” My voice is the squeak of a mouse. I’m embarrassing myself here.

“Why don’t you go there and I’ll meet you in there in a few minutes.”

“Great.” I walk ahead of him, I turn to the left to the living room and he heads up the stairs. The staircase is a double, one on each end of the second floor landing.

I continue on to the living room, a large brightly lit room with large windows that show the lake and manicured grounds leading down to it.

A large seventy-inch screen tv is the center of the room. A deep blue sofa sits facing a stone fireplace with a blue upholstered chair.

I haven’t been here as often as he’s been at my father’s and it’s been years. I curl up on the sofa, my legs underneath me and pick up the remote sitting in the oak coffee table. I turn it on and start flipping through the channels until I come to Disney. I’ve always been a sucker for a good movie. I think I’ve seen them all and pull the light blanket off the back of the sofa and lay it over me.

“What are we watching?” I don’t turn my head, I don’t need to. I hear glasses being set down and give them a quick glance. “I know how you love Coke.”

I steal a glance at him with a small smile. He knows me so well. “So, what are we watching?” He asks again.

Disney. That’s what we’re fucking watching. Okay, I’ll go with it. I sit on the sofa next to Kat and lay my arms along the back, the one closest to her I wrap my hand around her shoulder. I pretend to watch whatever movie this is, I’m watching her instead. She’s more interesting.

Her face is concentrating on the tv; I’m not sure if she really is or if she’s pretending as well. I rub my thumb back and forth against her collarbone. She fidgets her ass where she sits, moving her legs out from beneath her. She sits up straight, legs together primly.

I slide my hand up her shoulder to her neck, continuing to rub my thumb against her soft skin. I can feel her pulse ratchet up, racing at my touch. She bites her bottom lip, her breath saws in and out as if she can’t catch her breath. She still isn’t looking at me. The television has her undivided attention. I don’t like that. Not at all. I know she’s faking it. I don’t care whether she is or not. I want her attention on me. I’ll have to wait till after we eat. It’ll be foreplay.

A smile twists my lips in anticipation, my own breath intensifies, my hand slides lower down her back, my fingers touch the side of her left breast over her t-shirt. My pointer finger lightly brushes over her nipple, pretending it was an accident. Her breath stops for one second and gasps out short, fast breaths, filling the room, loud enough to be heard over the movie.

My hand continues its travels to the dip in her waist, tugging the shirt up higher. Just as I pull it high enough to reach under the doorbell rings. Pizza. I grimace and curse in my head. “I’ll get the pizza. Be back in a sec.”

I take long strides out of the room where my heart resides, hurrying to the door, glad I had paid online, throwing open the door to grab the food and slam the door closed. I turn, the food in my hand, and a body slams against me, climbing mine.

Katrina slams her mouth into mine, her tongue slips between my lips. I let her take control which is beyond hard for me. I’ve had so much for so long I have to fight my own dominance and let her take what she needs. I hope this will be the start of the healing process for her. She’s been lost since the assault and I’m going to do all I can help her. I know she can’t get over it. But hopefully I can give her better memories to overshadow the bad. I know she’ll never forget but if I can make him suffer, I will. He will feel the anguish she has gone through.

Her thick thighs wrap around my hips, her arms around my shoulders. My hands grip each ass cheek, the full curves make my dick even harder. I didn’t even think it was possible. It feels like an iron bar in my slacks.

She grabs my cheeks between her hands, she rubs her jean-clad pussy against my abdominal muscles. Her hands leave my face and Katrina leans back and starts fiddling with my belt buckle. My cell starts cackling and I lower and shake my head. Mom. When she’s here she has this crazy sense of humor and changes the ringtone on my phone. I never know how she always knows my password.

“Ignore it.” I plead, my voice sounds deep and growly, monster-like even to myself.

“You can’t. What if your mom has an emergency.” She throws her head back and closes her eyes, the corners wrinkling.

I growl louder but reach back, grabbing it out of my back pocket. “Yeah, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Did you order the turkey and everything else on my list? Of course not. I don’t care what you’re doing now. Do it.” Her voice is firm and scolding. I can see her frowning, one hand gesturing with yelling at her phone. “The list is on the kitchen counter. We need at least a twenty-pound turkey. No less. Call now, Griffin.” She hangs up the phone and I glance around apprehensively, as if she’s a witch and will appear out of nowhere to make sure I do what she wants.

Kat releases her legs from my waist and I help her lower her feet back to the floor. I groan, as she adjusts her top so no more skin shows. Fuck me, mom.

“Let’s get this done so we can get back to what we were doing.” She lowers her eyes to her bare feet, a red blush of a flowering rose washes over her cheeks and down her neck and back up to mine and marches toward the kitchen. I follow a lot slower, wanting to kick my expensive Italian leather shoes like a little boy having a tantrum. I never not get my way except with my mother. She’s the only one to center me, show me I’m not quite all I think I am. Everyone else in my world bows down to me. I’m the king. The despot emperor. Does this mean I think too much of myself? Of course. I’m not bragging when I say women follow behind me, throwing themselves at me. Both married and single. I make sure they’re not underage because some of these girls, the way they’re dressed and made-up look almost thirty.

In the kitchen she goes to the counter and picks up a slip of paper. “What grocery do you use. Do you get you’re food delivered?”

“Of course, I don’t go grocery shopping.” Me? Go grocery shopping? I haven’t done that since. Huh. Since university. Mom has always tried to keep me grounded even with her wealthy upbringing. I have a feeling Katrina will do the same. They are a lot the same. I think my mother’s influence rubbed off on her a bit, her mother is a fluffy look-at-me type. Not Katrina at all.

“Well, instead of going back to what we were doing maybe we should go grocery shopping and make sure we get what your mother wants. Hope the store still has fresh turkeys. Call. Make sure.” She has a hand on her hip, a worried expression darkens her pretty, innocence, biting that bottom lip again. That’s what I want to do and it looks like it’s going to be a while before I can. “Griffin. Call them.”

I’m not used to being ordered around but for her I’ll allow it. I reach into my back pocket retrieving my phone and retrieve my contacts where the number for the store is. It rings a few times before I get the selection of departments. I press two for meat and wait while it rings ten times and a harried male voice answers, “meat department.”

“Do you have any fresh turkeys left? I need at least a twenty pound. This is Griffin Van Halen.” Think my name might help get the friggin’ bird.

“Mr. Van Halen. I was just in the back. Had to hurry to pick up this call. We have one twenty-five pounder left.” His voice is a rush of words to please as he recognizes my name.

“Put my name on it. We’ll be down in a bit to pick it up.”

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