“You want my seed deep inside your pussy?” he confirms playfully.
“More than anything,” I exhale.
“Hang on, my ember. I cannot hold back any longer,” he warns. His hands grab my thighs again, holding me up as he slowly drags his cock in and out of my channel. I moan at the alternating sensation of full and empty, repeating endlessly.
There’s a feverish light in his eyes as his hips cant briskly, stroking into me at an increasing speed. My channel starts to clutch at him as I grow closer to another orgasm. It makes the drag of his cock inside me even more pronounced. Pleasure swarms up my spine. Soon, I’m writhing upon him almost as wildly as he bucks into me.
“Touch yourself, my ember. Come on my cock one more time. I feel your pussy squeezing me like you are almost there,” he orders.
I move one of my hands that had been grasping desperately at his shoulders and bring it between us to circle my clit. The instant I do, I start moaning and gasping uncontrollably. Norrell growls deeply, the vibration traveling down to his cock, stimulating me further. It drives me over the edge a second time, and I thrash unrestrained against him with each wave of my orgasm.
“You are mine, Ada!” he snarls as his cock thickens and pours out, splashing his come deep into my channel. The rhythm of his hips stutters and slows with the last few spurts.
I wrap my legs around his waist, keeping him inside me, as we gaze at each other unreservedly while our breathing slows. “I meant every word of it, Ada. I love you more than life itself. You are mine, forever, and I am yours. I am never leaving you again,” he declares fervently, his eyes searching mine.
His words sound genuine. They are everything I longed to hear after he left, even when I knew it was foolish of me. Even when I finally realized a male capable of such cruelty toward me didn’t deserve me in the first place. Fifteen years have curedme of the desperation I once had for them. Words alone hold very little meaning now. Maybe he’ll never be able to atone for it, but I need this… him… right now in this moment. I want his affection despite knowing I’m making myself vulnerable to him again. I don’t know what the future will hold for me. But Norrell is too intertwined with my life to ignore what’s happening between us. Though I can’t yet bring myself to tell him that I love him. I never stopped, even when I hated him too. That’s a small piece of me that I still need to protect.
“I believe you,” I whisper. It’s not a declaration of anything on my part, but I can feel the breath leave his body in relief. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me slowly, reverently, now that the tension between us has burned off for the moment.
He walks us into my attached bathroom toward the edge of my tub. He helps me step into it, and when I’m steady, he pulls his softened cock from me, unplugging me. His copious come slides out of me and down my leg. He takes a couple tissues from a box and slowly wipes away the streak. He hands me another clean one before throwing out the used tissues. He motions toward the linen closet in the bathroom and I nod. He opens it, takes out a washcloth, and wets it at the sink.
“Open your legs, my ember,” he asks in a low voice. I widen my stance and he gently wipes between my legs with the warm, wet washcloth.
“I am sorry about your undergarment. I will buy you new ones,” he chuckles.
“Buy me ones you find sexy,” I suggest slyly.
“Everything is sexy on you,” he responds in a sinfully deep voice, sounding more like the Norrell I used to know.
After helping me out of the tub, we get dressed again. I change into a new pair of panties, throwing the torn scrap away. He carries me down the stairs bridal style this time. I nibble at the crook of his neck to tease him. He chuckles deep andsatisfied. “Ada,” he sighs my name. “I do not want to tire you out before we have a chance to do everything we planned.”
“We can do both. Plans are overrated,” I assure him, giggling.
“Later, my ember,” he promises. “Now, it is time to decorate.”
He sets me down gently on the sofa, making sure I’m comfortable, and then goes outside to bring in the bags left in the automobile. I’m sure I resemble a wet noodle, sprawled out like I am, feeling more languid and relaxed than I can remember. It’s glorious. I want to feel like this all the time. His declarations still give me pause, but even silly old me knows better than to trust anything said in the heat of the moment. He can say he’smine, though I’m nothisthe way it seems he wants me to be. I won’t confuse this physical release with being mates again, no matter how tempting those pretty words are. I’m not too old to have a little fun during whatever time I have left in this realm, especially if he’s enthusiastically serving it up on a silver platter.
After putting the grocery bags in the kitchen, he returns to the living room to light a log in the fireplace. “I will heat the mulled cider on the stove. Then we should start with the decorating,” he announces.
“Can I help with the cider, please?” I ask, batting my lashes, which probably just makes me look silly.
His expression turns playful. “Of course,” he relents. “You can hunt for the rest of the spices we need.”
In the kitchen, he pours half of the gallon of cider into a large stock pot and then gets to work coring and slicing the fresh apples. Next, he thinly slices an orange crosswise keeping the peel on. At his suggestion, I pull the allspice, cardamom, and sugar from their shelf and put them next to the cloves and cinnamon sticks we purchased earlier. I set out my measuring spoons as well so they’re ready for him.
It takes only a few minutes for him to add everything to the pot where the cider is now simmering. It already smells fantastic even though it should sit on a very low heat for at least an hour to fully blend all the flavors.
I pop into the workshop and grab some twine, wire, several types of ribbon, scissors, glue, and other tools we’ll need to start decorating the living room and the tree. Norrell helps me pull a long length of twine from the bundle. We sit on the floor in front of the fireplace and space out large decorative bows of thick velvety ribbon across the length of the twine. They are separated by the dried slices of fruit with a thinner ribbon woven in adding a little space and color between each slice and looping around the twine. The ends of each thinner ribbon hang decoratively from the edges of where they’re wrapped around the dried fruit. Once we’re happy with the placement, we glue the bows and ribbon into place.
The boys have fun playing with the excess ribbon and twine. While we work, we wave it around for them to chase until they’re so tired they settle into opposite corners of a sofa for a nap.
After nearly two centuries of Yule celebrations in this home, someone long ago discreetly affixed small hooks underneath the mantel of the gray marble fireplace. I attach each big bow to a hook and let the fruit slices hang lower between each one. The result looks cozily homespun and the dried fruit slices are fragrant in the soft heat from the fire.
By the time that’s finished, our cider is ready. Norrell and I return to the kitchen where he ladles the piping hot beverage into mugs for us. We return to the living room, sitting next to each other on the sofa not occupied by the cats. We look at each other with what feels like new eyes and clink our steaming mugs, taking a small sip afterward while maintaining eye contact. It’s delicious. It tastes like Yule in a cup. I hum my appreciation, andhe leans in for a brief but breathless kiss. The spice of the cider lingers on his lips.
We sit together and watch the fire, slowly sipping from our mugs. When they’re empty, Norrell and I move on to our next craft. We glue a thin ribbon to the bottom of the pinecones, creating a loop we can hang on our tree. Then we use more of the ribbon and decoratively wrap the cones or place bows on them, gluing them in place. We create about thirty ornaments in all, the entirety of the bag, each only taking a minute or two to create once we get into the rhythm of it. Norrell and I work together to hang them on the tree.
After refilling our mugs of cider, we start on the last decoration of the night. We begin constructing a wreath with the fragrant bundles of trimmings we bought along with the tree. My scissors are spelled to cut through anything, which is useful when I’m making enchantments. Luckily the magick is still strong as I use them to cut a long piece of wire. We then form it in a circle and add another short loop at the top so we can hang it on the front door. Over the wire circle, we lay groupings of boughs at a decorative angle, overlapping them without any gaps. We attach each grouping as we go using twine and glue.
