NOT THE CHRISTMAS I PLANNED

Emma's POV 

The drive to the stranger's house was in a blur. We'd had a few more drinks, and I couldn't keep my hands to myself. I'd found myself giggling and laughing like a teenager who was having a fun time with her crush.

In his car, my fingers trailed his body and stopped when I reached his groin. 

"Uhhh," I moaned as I felt his huge bulge beneath his trousers. Biting my lower lip, I squeezed it while staring into his eyes. 

I saw his eyes close for a beat, and a groan escaped his mouth. Taking it as my cue, I pulled down his zip, freeing his huge c**k. My eyes widened at his size. He was at least twice Declan's size. 

I started by stroking his huge shaft, squeezing it intermittently. My heart raced as his c**k grew in size as I stroked it. Then I felt his right hand roam my thigh to my chest, grabbing my breast in a squeeze. 

A moan escaped my lips, and my grip on his c**k tightened, and I stroked him faster. He pulled my head down on him, he filled my mouth, and I gagged.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter as I sucked him. 

When we arrived at his house, he carried me up the staircase, and my back crashed on a soft mattress. It only took a matter of seconds for my clothes to leave my body. And his eyes, hands and mouth ravaged my body.

I woke up to silence with no unfamiliar man sprawled next to me or pulling me back under the covers. The bed still smelled like him, and his woodsy cologne filled the room. 

My thighs ached, my nipples felt like they'd been worshipped all night. I felt my entire muscle scream with pain like I'd done five marathons on my back. I winced, covering my face with my hand as last night's memories returned.

The way his wet tongue had teased my skin. How I'd screamed multiple times with pure ecstasy and how my legs had trembled when I'd climaxed. 

God, how many did we...?

I blinked at the ceiling, remembering the sinful way he'd kissed me like he wanted to ruin me, which he did exactly that. I'd climbed him like I was auditioning for the best horse rider of the year.

Every corner in the room had been a perfect place for different positions. I had even given him a drunken blow job in the car and several other times. 

A corner of his bed was wet, I'd squirted multiple times. Oh goodness me! I made a total mess of his room.

Shaking my head, I dragged the covers over me and sat up. I quickly spotted my bra on the lamp, and my dress was thrown in a corner of his room. It took me a minute to find my underwear. 

Slipping into last night's clothes, I padded barefoot into the hallway. The place was surprisingly nice. I hadn't noticed it when we entered last night. 

The faint sound of a voice pulled me toward the kitchen. I pushed at the door and peeked in. I froze. 

There he was, shirtless, standing in navy joggers and holding a mug in one hand and his phone in the other. His back was to me. He had broad shoulders and tanned skin with a faint scratch mark under his shoulder. 

I felt my cheeks heat up; the mark had probably been created by me. 

"I know I said I'd bring someone, but obviously that's not happening. I don't have a girlfriend." He said into the phone and paused. 

"Yeah, Patrick, I know how my mom is. She'll give me hell, but I can't just pull a girl out of nowhere." 

'Maybe he's talking to his friend,' I reasoned, but stayed still. 

"I'm not skipping Christmas. I already promised her."

I stood frozen, my heart beating faster. 'So... he needs a girlfriend? Interesting.'

He turned just as he hung up the call, and his eyes locked with mine. 

"Oh " He set the phone down. "You're awake." 

Holy hell, he's still shirtless. My brain blanked again. I tried not to look at his abs. But I failed. 

I knew this man had been inside me. Five different positions last night, but now that I was sober and facing him in the morning light?

He was stupid hot. His light brown hair was in a messy bedhead style, a sharp jaw, a chest with little hair and toned abs that belonged to someone who worked with his hands. 

"You okay?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"Mo... morning," I stuttered and stepped inside. 

He walked over to the counter and poured coffee into another mug. "You want some?"

"Desperately." I nodded.

He handed me the mug, and as I took it, our fingers brushed. I stared at him for a moment and a ridiculous idea formed in my head. The crazy, reckless, very me kind of idea.

"So," I said slowly, leaning on the doorframe. "I didn't quite catch your name last night."

His brows rose. I  quickly raised a finger. "In my defence, when you told me I was a little... preoccupied with you." 

He chuckled, that same low, rumbling sound that had my toes curl last night. "Liam. Liam O'Connor."

"Emma Walsh," I said, giving a little mock curtsy. "Nice to meet you... again." 

"I heard your call," I said in a low tone. 

I noticed his muscles tense, but he relaxed immediately. "Right."

"You need a girlfriend. And I need a distraction." 

"You want to be my fake girlfriend?" He asked, raising a brow. 

I nodded before speaking. "Your family wants someone. I'm someone."

I paused, taking a sip of the coffee, letting it warm my throat. "You take me with you for Christmas. We pretend to be madly in love. Everyone's happy." 

"You barely know me." He countered. 

I shrugged. "You were inside me almost throughout the night. Feels like a fast track introduction."

He choked on his own sip, laughing. "Jesus." 

"Come on," I said, leaning on the counter. "I need to get the hell out of London. I have nowhere to go, and I'd rather not spend my Christmas crying over a man who used my savings to screw someone else. Plus... you already promised your mom." 

Liam stared at me, his grey eyes piercing into me. "You're serious." 

"Completely."

He crossed his arms, staring thoughtfully at me. "You do know this would involve lying to my whole family throughout the year?" 

"Yup." 

"And staying in the same house as me." 

"Worked out fine last night," I said with a cheeky smile. 

"You're insane," he said, rubbing a hand on his face. 

"I've been told so before," I said, rolling my eyes. "Is that a yes?"

A beat passed. "Alright. Let's do it."

LOVING SANTA'S GIFT

Emma's POV 

The next few days passed in a hazy blur. I'd gone back to Declan's apartment the other day after Liam ravaged my body again, fully prepared to snatch my suitcase and ghost him forever. 

But fate had other plans. I bumped into both him and Fiona at the lobby. She clung to his arm like a trophy and they both froze when they saw me. 

I didn't say a word. I simply smiled, kept walking and dragged my suitcase behind me with a silent pride. Declan didn't even try to stop me and that stung more than I'd expected. 

But that pain didn't last long. Because back at Liam's house, the real distraction began. 

I woke up that morning to warm lips wrapped around my nipple and a strong hand sliding between my thighs. 

A sharp moan left my throat. "Liam..."

"Good morning to you too," he murmured against my skin, his voice deep and rough from sleep.

His fingers stroked my c**t expertly, he already knew what made me squirm. We hadn't exactly been keeping things 'fake' in the bedroom. Since I moved into his house, this has become our routine. Me waking up to his mouth, his hands, his thick c**k and sinful body.

A gasp left my mouth when he slid two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that made my legs tremble violently.

"You're already so wet," he said as he brushed his lips against my jaw. 

"Maybe because you keep waking me up like this," I managed to say, digging my fingers into his shoulder.

He gave a low chuckle and kissed my stomach. "Complaining?"

"Never," I whispered. 

After a few more strokes he went inside me, stretching me in a way that felt almost too much, but just right. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he began with slow and deep thrusts. 

God, how did a man like this exist?

He was 34. Ten years older than me. A grown man who knew exactly what he was doing with his hands, mouth and definitely his c**k. 

Declan, my ex, was only 27. A man-child who'd barely figured out where the clit was. 

Liam, on the other hand, had my body memorised by the second night. And it scared me how much I like it.

He fucked like he had something to prove. Like he wanted to erase every stupid memory of my past. Sometimes he did it slowly, like he was savouring me. Sometimes he lost control and took me roughly against the kitchen counter and the bedroom table.

I wasn't complaining. But I had gone to the clinic two days ago for an emergency contraceptive. I wasn't about to add a surprise baby to my list of 2025 problems.

After we both came hard and tangled in each other, I curled into his sweaty chest. 

"You know," I said, breathing fast, "for a lawyer, you're surprisingly good at... this."

He gave a small laugh. "Thanks, I guess? Law and fucking aren't that different. Both require focus, accuracy, and strategy." 

"You're ridiculous," I mumbled against his chest.

"And you're like it." 

Unfortunately... I did. This was definitely not how I planned my Christmas, but I was loving Santa's gift. 

A few hours later, I was sitting in a plane beside Liam with my stomach doing strange flips. Two weeks until Christmas and we were on our way to the Republic of Ireland, Dublin. This was where I'd have spent my holiday with Declan. 

He looked relaxed in his hoodie and jeans, scrolling through his phone like this was just another work trip. Meanwhile, I was practically vibrating in my seat, rereading the information about him he'd sent to my phone. 

Favourite food: "Mom's shepherd pie."

First pet: "a black sheep named Whisley."

Favourite hiding spot as a kid: "the barn behind their house."

Worst subject: "maths."

The thing he hates the most: "cold tea."

I muttered the facts under my breath like I was preparing for a final exam. Because I was. If I messed this up, I'd embarrass both of us in front of his family.

"You're nervous," Liam said as he gambled sideways at me. 

"Nope. I'm completely fine," I lied. 

"You're mumbling about sheep." He said, smiling slightly.

"That's because whiskey was a sheep." 

"We've got this." He said as his fingers brushed mine between the seats. "Just follow my lead." 

I laughed and relaxed a little. "Just don't leave me alone with your mom." 

'I won't. Probably." 

I shot him a glare and he winked. 

The plane landed in Dublin, and the cold December air whipped my hair around. We finally pulled up at his family's house and I wasn't sure what to expect. 

It was cosy and full of charm. Twinkling light lined the roof and the white walls. It wasn't flashy, it was big but warm and full of life. 

Inside his mother greeted us with a squeal and a hug that nearly knocked me back. Her arms were soft and her perfume reminded me of cinnamon and my late mother. 

"You must be Emma!" She gushed. "Oh look at you! You're even prettier than Liam described. 

"I blinked. "Oh... thank you." He had talked about me to his mother.

His sister Siobhán hugged me too, and then his uncle cracked a joke about Liam finally bringing home a girl who didn't look like a tax write-off.

They welcomed me as if I belonged there. It was overwhelming. I smiled, taking in a deep breath, trying to keep up with the rush of Irish accents, laughter and the smell of food in the kitchen. 

Just then, I heard a tiny voice. "Daddy?" 

Everyone turned as a small girl in red boots walked into the living room. Her brown, curly hair bounced as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. 

I could feel my heart miss some beats and resume beating faster. She looked like a tiny version of Liam. She had his stormy grey eyes and jawline. 

She blinked up at me and then whispered. "Are you my new mommy?"

BETWEEN LAUGHTER AND SCREAM

Emma's POV 

When the little girl's small voice echoed in the living room, Are you my mummy? My heart stopped. I froze mid-smile, unsure if my voice was even capable of responding.

A tiny pair of feet padded toward us, with her grey eyes widened. And for a moment, time did that funny thing where it slows down. 

"Um.." I said, choking on my words as I stepped forward.

I looked from the little girl to Liam. His mouth was open,  but then he closed it, blinked once and gently said. 

"Hey, Orla, sweetheart. You don't say that to someone you just met. Say hello first. This is Emma." 

Orla blinked shyly at me and tilted her head. Then she whispered, "Hello." Her voice was small but polite; her eyes were fixed on me, as if she were sizing me up. 

I could barely breathe. I hadn't prepared for this part because he didn't tell me he had a daughter. I wanted to say something smart. 

Instead, my voice came out as: "Hi... Orla. Your eyes are the same as your daddy's." 

Her little brows creased, and that tiny smile reformed. Before I could say anything further, Mrs Moira O'Connor, Liam's mother, burst in with a plate of steaming food. 

"Dinner is ready! Come on, everyone, sit, sit!" Her voice was loud with joy. 

Just as we were settling at the table, another pair of footsteps appeared. 

"Da," Liam said in a quiet voice. 

A tall, slightly worn man in a dark pullover entered. He had broad shoulders like Liam's, salt-and-pepper hair, and a calm face that didn't quite match his serious aura. 

"You must be Emma," he said as he brought out his hand, offering me a handshake. 

"Nice to meet you," I said, gripping his hand. His grip was firm but brief. 

"I'm Seamus," he introduced and turned his attention to Liam.

I noticed that Liam didn't hug him. Seamus didn't pat his shoulder. The only thing that passed between them was a short but heavy look. 

Dinner was surprisingly warm and filled with laughter. Liam's uncle, Padraig or uncle Paddy, makes jokes about how I pronounced Irish names. 

Siobhán kept repeating, Siobhán, no. Not See-bhon!. Liam was also getting teased for not teaching me to speak Irish. 

"Liam, when will you teach Emma how to say my name properly?" Moira teased, placing a dollop of mashed potatoes on my plate. 

"Just as soon as she survives my sisters' accents," he said, laughing. 

Siobhán leaned over. "Try saying it like She-vawn. Like a soft Shh." 

I repeated it a few times until even Uncle Paddy was laughing. "Close enough, lass!"

All the while, I kept sneaking glances at Liam. He was attentive and genuinely involved with Orla. He asked her about school, joked about her drawings and when she talked about her favourite part of all her school trips, Liam lit up in a way that made something inside me ache. 

Finally, dinner was over and I loved it. But right before we were about to excuse ourselves, Uncle Paddy spoke. 

"My daughter and her fiancé are visiting from London soon, and they'll be joining us for Christmas dinner too. Thought it'd be nice if you met them, Emma," He said, leaning back with a grin. 

I could feel my pulse race. More introductions weren't good for our plan. But I masked my face with a tight smile. "That sounds... lovely."

"Our room's this way," Liam said quietly as we ascended the stairs. 

"Are we sharing?" I asked in a tone just above a whisper.

He shrugged, then tilted his head. "There isn't an extra room unless we squeeze someone into the guest bed."

"Fine," I replied, forcing a smile. "But you better not snore." 

"You're the one who sleeps like a chainsaw in the windstorm." He opened the door to his room and entered. 

"Why didn't you tell me about Orla?" I asked, my tone softer than I expected. 

He didn't answer at first. He just looked at me. Finally, he murmured.

"Because she's not up for discussion. Not until I knew you'd be here. I didn't want to explain. 

I froze at his words. I felt my stomach sink, but instead of responding, I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door to brush my teeth.

Seconds later, I heard a knock. "Emma?" His voice came. 

I didn't want to talk. Before I could answer, he opened the door, closing the space between us. 

His presence was too close and warm. Liam didn't say anything, his eyes just held mine. And then without warning, his lips were on mine. 

It was soft at first, then harder and then hungry, like he was trying to memorise every inch of me. I should've stopped him or pushed him away. 

Instead, I whispered his name as his tongue brushed mine. I could feel my thigh become moist. But when I stood on my toes, inching closer to him we heard a sharp scream. 

"MUMMY!!"

My eyes shot open and we both froze. It was Orla. And she sounded terrified.