His Holiday Girlfriend: Fake Love, Real Christmas

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?"