Page 6 of Hunted for Halloween
Oh, my God…
What have I done?
“Angel?” Dad's worried voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I snap my head away from him, unable to school my pale expression into place when it lands on my Dad. “Are you okay?”
I blink, holding my breath so that I can hold back the tears I'm desperate to hide. “Uh…I'm fine.”
“Are you sure?” Christian’s deep, raspy voice fills the air.
The bastard sounds so controlled, like he didn't just realize that the woman he finger-fucked into oblivion on Halloween night is his best friend's daughter. Disgust rapidly fills me at his voice and I fight the urge to grit my teeth.
“I'm fine,” I practically spit the words out, mostly directing my scorn at him. “I'm just dizzy.” I put on a broad smile, sucking in some air.
Dad's heated stare burns a hole into my body, but I pull myself together.
“It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Carson. I'm Aurora.” I approach him with my heart thudding violently, stretching my hand forth for a shake.
“Please,” he takes my hand in his rough palm, “call me Christian, Aurora.” Those whiskey eyes hone in on my face, a zap of electricity impaling me to a spot as our hands touch.
“Don't you ever call me anything else.” Christian growls. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I think we should have dinner now.” I pull my hand out of his sharply, striding towards the dining area without waiting for them.
Harriet has already set the table, true to her words, but the sight of numerous luxurious dishes and the aroma that cocoons the air can’t rouse my desire to eat. My appetite has been crushed by the dark realization of what just occurred, and I have no doubt that the meal will taste like grass.
“I had forgotten how exquisite your taste is,” he speaks up, his voice coming out in a murmur, making the space between my legs clench.
I take my seat, folding my shaky hands on my lap. Dad occupies the seat before me and to my dissatisfaction, Christian takes the one right next to him. Our eyes meet again and my breath hitches. I'm consumed with hatred because I don'tunderstand how he's keeping his shit together right now when I'm this close to losing my mind.
“It's all Meredith,” My Dad responds, his voice soft, full of remembrance at the mention of my mom's name. “It's so good to have you back, Christian.” He adds.
The maids troop into the dining area, dishing out our meal and filling our glasses with rich red wine. Every time I try not to look in his direction, I fail. And when I meet his gaze, it's like he's been looking at me before then.
I shift awkwardly in my seat, hating that I'm not wearing a bra under my dress because my nipples are acting so thirsty right now, seeking attention. His attention.
“Angel?” Dad calls out to me again.
I snap out of my thoughts, looking towards him. “Yes, Daddy?”
“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, narrowing his eyes on me.
“Don't you want to be here? You were looking forward to the dinner.” He laments, worried.
My eyes fleetingly move between the duo, catching how Christian's jaw flexes. My cheeks burn when I realize why he seems irritated. I just called my Dad, Daddy.
“Why would you even think that? I'm glad to be here. I guess I'm just coming down with something. But, I'm okay, I promise.” I assure him with a smile that I struggle to make sure it appears real. “Can we eat now, please?” I ask, exasperated.
Dad's gaze lingers on me and he slowly nods.
I can put this behind me. I can do it. All I have to do is forget that night and act like he doesn't exist.
I'm sorry, but you fingered yourself to the thought of him last night before bed.The nosy voice in my head chips in and my cunt throbs greedily.
I'm so fucked.
We dive straight into the main course for tonight; grilled chicken paired with some salad and quinoa, alongside a glass of red wine. Maybe I'd have savored it better if I didn't just find out that my Halloween fling is my Dad's best friend.
My stomach churns as I scarf down some salad, suppressing my tears. I look down at my meal the whole time.