Her praise and affection were a soothing balm he’d never tire of receiving. As she held him close about the shoulders, she matched his slow, gentle strokes and they danced in a rhythm they’d perfected over the last handful of months.

This was more than a mere physical joining, for their souls communed, perhaps in the very heavens she wished to visit. Hunger tingled at the base of his spine. Need roiled through his stones, pulling them tight to his body. His member pulsed with each thrust. Then his control shattered, and he increased his rhythm for he couldn’t withstand anymore. Faster and faster, he speared into her. Deeper and deeper, he went while chasing bliss as she moved with him, matched him as if they danced in a ballroom. Harder and harder he labored in an effort to send her flying before he lost the rest of his sanity.

Urgency guided him as the heat of his blood signaled imminent release. Drew grasped her hips in a tight grip as his thrust grew more frantic, went deeper. “Come for me, Sarah. I’m nearly spent.”

“I…” She uttered a sweet moan and arched her back. Her arms went up over her head, her fingers clutching at the bedding.

The sight of her in such abandon sent him hurtling toward the edge. His control slipped. Her head thrashed about the pillows; her pregnancy-swollen breasts bounced and jiggled with each stroke he performed. Then a keening wail escaped her. Contractions pulled at his shaft, urging him to follow. Drew thrust faster, went deeper, until he broke, tumbled over that edge of bliss into a myriad of light, guided only by her cries and the raw feel of his shaft pulsing within her heat.

Damnation, but coupling with his wife grew better each time. She wore him out. He ground his hips against hers to prolong the pleasure for them both, and when he came back down to Earth, he shuddered from the experience. “It’s early yet, but happy Christmas. You will always remain the best gift I’ve ever been given.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while her breathing rasped in his ears. Her legs slid down, still twisted with his. “Happy Christmas, Andrew. Would that this season usher in great things for the Storme family.”

“We’ll lead by example.” He rolled to his side and took her with him. “I can hardly wait to see what the new year will bring us all.” With a sigh, he let his eyes drift closed. The steady beat of Sarah’s heart lulled him into a state of relaxed peace. “Tomorrow, or rather later today, shall be fun. It’s been an age since Hadleigh Hall ushered in a traditional Christmastide.”

“All because of you.” She snuggled into his side, and soon enough dropped into slumber.

Drew grinned into the nearly dark room. Perhaps his father had indeed left a Christmas legacy, and now it was up to him to see it through for the rest of them. Tomorrow was the night of miracles, yet he’d seen enough of those in the last six months to realize they happened all the time, in various little ways, if one was but open to see. Everything else was mere window dressing.

And therein lay the secret to truly living.

The End


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Tags: Sandra Sookoo The Storme Brothers Historical
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