Will grunted as his lips glided over hers. “I love you back, baby.”
She smiled against his mouth and wrapped her fingers around the hot, hard length of him. “Merry Christmas?”
“Merry fucking Christmas,” he agreed. Then he cupped her aching sex with one big palm and sucked in a breath when he found her wet.
She was still naked from last night. He was naked from the shower. He pushed her onto her back and palmed her hips with desperate hands. His body settled between her thighs, and just that—just the weight, the heat, and maybe the knowledge that he wanted her again—lit Abbie up like the spark of a match.
She wrapped her legs around him and whimpered. The first time they’d had sex, about six months ago now, she’d been quiet. Bitten her lip. Bitten her tongue. He hadn’t told her to stop it; he’d just touched her with deliberate affection, with burning intent and shameless adoration, and he’d shown her everything he’d felt, and eventually—eventually—she’d found herself moaning beneath him one day without an ounce of self-consciousness and no idea how they’d gotten there.
Well, she supposed she had some idea. Abbie had been working hard this past year, for herself, and Will had done exactly what he’d promised to do. He’d held her hand.
Now his hand slid, slow and tender, up her body. Worshipping the thickness of her waist, massaging the weight of her breast, stroking the length of her throat. Enjoying, teasing, taking his fucking time. He broke their kiss to ease his thumb into her mouth, then watched with stormy eyes as she sucked, hard and wet. When she was done, he reached down between their bodies and pressed that thumb between her thighs, massaging easy circles over her swollen clit.
She swallowed a moan, not because she wanted to, but because they had to be at least a little quiet. He nuzzled her cheek, her jaw, her throat, and kept going. Kept going. Just when she thought she might beg for more, he murmured roughly, “Want it?”
“Yes.”
He bit his lip, as if the word alone turned him on, and then she felt the broad head of his dick pressing her open. A slow, slick glide, his thumb still working her steadily. Everything in her tightened. He kept going, easing her through it, dragging her higher. Rocking over her, touching her, telling her in hoarse whispers, “So good, Abbie, so good.” Devouring her like he’d craved it his whole life.
She kissed him when she came.
And then again when he did, swallowing the sound of Will growling her name. He shook, he swore, and then he all but collapsed, his hoarse sounds of satisfaction spilling warm across her skin. They lay tangled together for a few breathless, sticky minutes before a bang on the door startled them both.
“Oi!” Noah’s voice came through the wood. “It’s Christmas! Stop shagging and get downstairs.”
Will burst out laughing. Once upon a time, Abbie would’ve been too mortified to join him—but it had been a few months since she and Will had, er, gone official, and her family had figured things out way before that. By this point, the teasing was almost mundane. Abbie was still chuckling when she heard another bang from down the hall. “Jason, Harlan,” Noah was shouting, “get your lazy arses up!”
“Choke,” Jase yelled back.
Another bang, this one further away. “Ma—”
“Noah Farrell, if you’ve got a brain in your head, you better watch your mouth.”
A pause. Then Noah said, a bit more quietly, “See you downstairs, Mum, love you, bye.”
Which just set Will off all over again.
He rolled over to lie against the pillows, butt naked and laughing uncontrollably. At the sight of him, Abbie’s own chuckles faded, replaced by a tiny smile and a quiet swell of love, like everything in her heart had broken the banks and flooded her entire body. The ghosts of her old fears hovered in the back of her mind, but they were only that: ghosts. Scary yet transparent. Unable to truly touch her. The fact was, she adored him, and she glowed with it, fizzed with it—couldn’t keep it in and didn’t know how she’d ever managed to.
People coped with all sorts of things when they felt they had to. Like a flower locked in a cupboard, they’d grow desperately, instinctively toward the light, even if it required them to bend and twist and almost break. Even when you moved out of the cupboard, you still needed a little support to grow strong again.
Abbie had always had that, and lately, she’d dared to enjoy it.
“What?” Will had noticed her stare, his laughter turning into a bemused smile, his dark eyes turning her transparent as always. Beautifully so.
“I love you,” she told him simply.
His happiness was obvious. Infinite. Incandescent. But all he said was, “That’s twice in one morning, Abbie-girl. You feeling the Christmas spirit?”
She leaned over to kiss the corner of his smile, the scruff over his chin, the space between those lovely eyes. “Something like that.”
More by Talia Hibbert
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That Kind of Guy
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Guarding Tempation
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