A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor

by Aphrodite Hunt

  What am I doing here? Justin wonders. Then his gaze alights upon Abby.

  Oh yes. I’m snared in the vise grip of a guilt trip.

  It sure works though. There’s no way he can leave Abby while she’s still on suicide watch.

  Abby squeals. He winces, although he’s glad she’s looking so much chipper.

  “Oh my God, Daddy, is this for real?” She holds up a Cartier box and takes out a diamond-encrusted watch that dazzles in the sunlight streaming from the windows.

  Uh oh, guilt present.

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.” Her father holds out his arms, beaming, and she gladly comes into them.

  Justin watches as Abby’s parents exchange loving hugs with her. That’s why you can’t compete, he tells himself. With a father like that, she expects nothing but absolute dedication from her lover.

  Abby’s eyes glitter with unusual excitement as she looks at Justin.

  “Daddy, Mummy, I have something to announce.”

  The cold hand of dread grips Justin. Both her brothers look up from their Kindles – a feat in itself.

  Abby continues, “Right here, in front of everyone, I’m going to say something.”

  She pauses.

  “I know the past few weeks have been trying for all of us, especially me. I’ve been cut up and upset, but I’m better now. I’m taking my meds and I’m seeing the psychologist daily . . . and like I said, I’m really better now.”

  A palpable silence descends upon the room.

  She’s laying it thick, Justin realizes. Reminding everyone of how psychologically fragile she is. Why can he see through her so clearly and yet he’s helpless to do anything about it? Because he knows he’s not really being played? That she is every bit as psychologically needy and damaged as she appears to be?

  She laughs. “So in front of everyone present, I would like to perform a little role reversal before, you know, I lose my nerve. Life is transient. My stay in the hospital has taught me that. So, like my psychologist says, I should seize the day before sunset comes, as corny as that may sound.”

  Her intense gaze scorches a hole in his face once again.

  “Justin,” she says, her voice trembling, “will you marry me?”

  18

  Elise is spending Christmas morning with her parents. The whole family has come home for Christmas from whatever state they are working or studying in, and the house is a rustic, festive affair filled with the redolent smells of cookies and punch.

  Her family home was always such a happy house. She would like to keep it that way, and so no mention is made of Leonard or what she has tried to accomplish with Justin.

  “Sweetheart, are you all right?” her mother says.

  Elise looks away from the window. She smiles. “I’m OK, Mom.”

  Her dark-haired, pretty mother with the always slightly flushed cheeks that used to amuse Justin so much (“so she’s got a skin condition, what’s the big deal?”) takes her arm.

  “You never did tell us about London. Did everything go well with your business trip?”

  Lies and more lies.

  “As well as it could, Mom.” Elise hugs her diminutive mother. “I’m all right, really. You go back to Dad. He’s looking for something.”

  Indeed, the cry for help comes.

  “Marla? Where the hell are my reading glasses?”

  “Hush now, no swearing on Christmas Day, Sam. You promised.” Marla squeezes Elise’s forearm. “Let me go help your Dad before he turns the house upside down looking for it.”

  Elise nods. Tingly warmth suffuses her body. She loves what her parents have together. Too bad her life isn’t going down the same path.

  All that non-alcoholic punch is stretching her bladder. She supposes it’s as good a time as any.

  She wanders to the bathroom upstairs. She seats herself at the toilet and takes a test kit out of her purse. As her urine pours out, she holds the strip in the warm flow. So much hope compressed in that little plastic indicator.

  She holds up the test strip, her heart pounding within its casings.

  As she suspected, it turns blue.

  19

  Justin is running in Hyde Park. His legs pump in and out furiously. Even though it’s bitterly cold and the wind is whipping up a frenzy through the barren trees, he’s only dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. His blood churns too furiously for him to feel the chill.

  And anyway, he wants to punish himself. His body anyway. This run is a catharsis of sorts – for him to think things through. And his mind has been tripping over and over the same things like some cranky Laundromat.

  It’s his decision and his alone.

  Whatever happens thereafter will be his burden to bear.

  He runs all the way to his car. The congestion charge for central London makes it expensive to drive and park, but he doesn’t care. It’s a company car anyway.

  He drives back to his flat. It’s the day after New Year, and the London bustle has begun in earnest. He hits the showers immediately and lets the hot water soak his flushed skin.

  He dresses in a smart charcoal grey Gucci suit. Red shirt, red tie. He eyes himself in the mirror. He’s as handsome as any male model for a designer ad, and he knows it. Instead of gladdening him, it makes him sick.

  Elise was right. He’s a trophy.

  He hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet to Abby. He hasn’t said ‘no’ either. He pleaded something about needing more time to think about such a momentous decision. He recalls the entire family eyeing him with hopeful expectation, willing him to say ‘yes’ – to assuage Abby’s destructive need to possess him.

  Once dressed, he drives to the office. The office in which he’s soon to be promoted to COO.

  He walks in with his briefcase. The receptionist greets him with a “Happy New Year, Mr. Morgan.” He smiles and gives everyone the perfunctory ‘New Year’ salutations.

  He walks into the CEO’s office. Thaddeus Morton’s middle-aged female PA rises.

  “Happy New Year, Justin. He’s on the phone right now, so I wouldn’t go in if I were you – ”

  Justin strides in anyway despite her protests. Thaddeus Morton is indeed on the phone, but one look at Justin’s face makes him say to whomever it is on the other line, “I’ll call you back”.

  Justin lays his briefcase on Thaddeus’s desk. He eyes his prospective father-in-law as he snaps it open and takes out a letter.

  He hands the letter to Thaddeus.

  “What is this?” the older man demands.

  “My resignation.”

  Thaddeus Morton raises both eyebrows.

  Justin takes a deep breath. “I’m resigning from your company. I’m not marrying your daughter. Yes, I do realize she’s in a very vulnerable psychological place right now, but it’s not fair to make me jump through the hoops just because I’m afraid of what will happen to her. It’s emotional blackmail. No one has the right to do that to another human being.”

  “Justin, I know what happened upset the two of you . . . but there’s no reason to – ”

  “No. I’ve thought long and hard about it. If Abby goes off the deep end over this, it’s really time you seek major psychiatric counseling for her.” He holds up his hand to stop Thaddeus from interrupting. “No. Like I said, I’ve thought about it. You know as much that Abby’s threats to kill herself if she doesn’t get her way have got to stop. Especially if she is going to have any semblance of a normal life.”

  “Justin, her threats are very real. She’s a seriously damaged woman – ”

  “Who needs help . . . but not from me. Not anymore, that is. I know this sounds callous and hard, but believe me, I can’t live the rest of my life being held by the throat to someone else’s whims.” Justin feels the burden slowly lifting from his shoulders. “I should have ended it a long time ago before it got to this. That is entirely my fault and I’m sorry.”

  He can see the pain in Thaddeus Morton’s eyes. There is pain, but also understanding.

&
nbsp; Justin says, “I’m telling you first . . . but I’m going to tell her right now. Please . . . stand by.”

  Both of them know what he is saying.

  Thaddeus says, “No, Justin. I’d rather you didn’t tell her face to face. Let me be the one to tell her. I’ll . . . let her down easy.”

  They lock eyes for a long time. Then Justin nods.

  “Thank you,” he says softly.

  “I’m losing one hell of a COO.”

  “You’d probably be getting one better than me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He gets up from behind his desk and they shake hands firmly.

  “So where will you be going?” Thaddeus asks.

  Justin smiles. “Somewhere I should have gone a long time ago. My own path.”

  20

  Elise is looking at several storyboards on a new beer campaign when Alice Munro, the department gossip, scuttles in.

  “There’s someone calling for you at the reception,” she says mysteriously.

  “Who?”

  “He’s walking in right here as we speak.”

  Elise looks up, amazed, as Justin walks through the door. He’s dressed in a black wifebeater, over which he has donned a white shirt. He wears a pair of black Levi’s. Very casual compared to his usual fare.

  At first, she has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not an apparition. Apparently not, because all the women in the room are staring at him too with obvious admiration. And who can blame them? Justin Morgan is a very stunning man.

  But he seems to only have eyes for her as he strides across the room until he is at her side. He smiles. She can feel her stomach tightening. Butterflies swim everywhere, or maybe she’s floating off her feet on little fairy wings – she can’t tell.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” she stammers.

  OK, that is so lame.

  “I’m on vacation,” he says. “No, actually, I’m on permanent vacation. I’m unemployed. I’m looking for a job.”

  “Stateside? Whatever happened to – ?”

  “I quit.”

  “Why? I thought you were going to be – ?”

  “COO?” He gives a short laugh. “I decided that the price for it is too high to pay.”

  She looks at him wonderingly. So much to ask. So much to catch up. And she hasn’t even scratched the tip of the iceberg. It is like they are the only two people in the room, even though everyone is watching and listening with bated breath.

  He says, “Actually, I do have a favor to ask you, Elise.”

  She’s experiencing déjà vu here.

  “Shoot,” she says. Right to the point, as always.

  “I would like you to consider letting me into your life again. Whatever happened to you and your ex is the past. We are the present and the future. You don’t have to go to a sperm bank to make a baby. I’m offering my services, right here . . . for as long as it takes.”

  “You mean right now?” She steals a look at everyone. They are silent and extremely fascinated. The women are envious. And no wonder. Justin’s hazel eyes are lighted up into a transparent green by the sunshine pouring through the windows, and he is so beautiful that he takes her breath away.

  He grins. “We can talk terms and conditions over lunch. I don’t suppose you have a Pret A Manger’s downstairs?”

  She grins back as she strokes the shoal of her tummy. “No, but we sure do have a lot of talk about.”

  His eyes widen in amazement. “You mean – ”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh wow.” His face transforms into almost rapture.

  Impulsively, she reaches for his hand and pulls him away – out of the room, away from everyone, and into the great, big unknown.

  The unknown they will explore together.

  EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT

  The ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’ series

  His Indecent Proposition

  His Indecent Demands

  His Indecent Desires

  His Indecent Secrets

  His Indecent Revelations

  The ‘Initiation’ series

  Open Your Legs for Me

  Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

  Thighs Wide Apart

  Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy

  The Final Initiation

  The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories

  The ‘Initiation 2’ series

  Open Your Legs for my Family

  Bend Over for my Family

  Publicly Display Yourself for Me

  Sex Slave at Sea

  Paraded before the Billionaires

  Sex Slave at the Auction

  The ‘Initiation 3’ series

  Sex Slave to the Dictator

  Shacked by the Dictator

  ‘The Royal Captive’ series

  Prince Miro’s Capture

  Prince Miro’s Submission

  Prince Miro’s Enslavement

  Prince Miro’s Punishment

  Prince Miro’s Escape

  Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation

  The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3

  The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6

  The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

  I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

  Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

  Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

  Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL

  The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series

  Her First Clit Ring

  Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage

  Her First Clit Ring 3: Desensitization

  The ‘Undercover’ series

  Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor

  Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO

  The ‘Alien’ series

  Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens

  Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2

  Hot, Wet and Steamy (individual stories)

  When He’s Inside You

  My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper

  The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense)

  A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor

  WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT

  EROTIC ROMANCES

  The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male’ series

  A Virgin Enslaved

  The Pretend Boyfriend

  The Pretend Boyfriend 2

  The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series

  Mysterious Desire

  Forbidden Desire

  Infamous Desire

  Royal Desire

  Maid for the Billionaire Prince

  ROMANCES

  The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick

  Snow White and the Alien

  Dear reader, as this list is not always comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this point in publishing, please visit http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/ and http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/ for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic romances with a more romance feel and Aphrodite Hunt for pure erotica and erotic romances which are slightly kinkier. So please be aware of what you’re getting into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so much for your support.

  READ THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS OF ‘THE PRETEND BOYFRIEND 2’ BY ARTEMIS HUNT

  THE PRETEND BOYFRIEND 2

  PROLOGUE

  She sticks her downloaded Internet photos of him onto the corkboard. She pins them up by the edges, taking care not to deface his beautiful face in any way.

  Not yet, at least.

  BRIAN MORTON. President and CEO of Vanguard Advertising, the hippest, most avant-garde advertising firm in Chicago. The firm corporations flock to when they want something different, thought- and mood-provoking . . . and sexy.

  It is so unfair. He has everything – good looks, charm, brilliance, money, success. And she has nothing.

  This will be rectified very soon.

  Because she’s going to make him pay for what he did to her. She’s going to make that promiscuous, no good, lying son of a bitch suffer as he
has never suffered before. And when she’s through with him, he’s going to rue the day he was born.

  She stands a little distance away from the corkboard, studying his photos from an angle. He’s so handsome with his huge bedroom eyes, fantastic hair – always maintaining that ‘just out of bed’ tumbled look – and his wide sensuous lips. Lips that she has kissed repeatedly when he was fucking her. She can still feel him inside her, even though it’s only a memory. A ghost of a memory. An imprint of emotions turned topsy-turvy; of love turned to hate.

  She sure as hell hates him now. She clenches her fist, harnessing the accumulated vitriol which is manifesting in the bile that curdles her throat.

  Brian Morton, when I’m through with you, you will have nothing left.

  1

  In the boardroom of the company he founded with his cousin, Brian Morton stands in front of a screen. He loves doing his own presentations, especially if he has coined the idea himself.

  In this instance, his client happens to be the mayor’s office – a real coup for Vanguard. The mayor has long been with Barstow Advertising across the street. But for this particular ad, the mayor’s office had wanted something different. Something provocative.

  Vanguard has acquired the reputation for provocation, thanks in no small measure to Brian’s own efforts.

  Brian says, “Basically, people are becoming numbed to advertising. You need to get their attention. And trust me, this will.”

  He depresses a button on the remote control. A Powerpoint slide appears onscreen.