by Annie Dyer
Owen had relaxed his hands as they were getting close to being in positions that weren’t suitable for parents to see.
“You’ll learn when you have your own children.”
I saw her eye me in the dim light from the lamp she always left on.
“Seph’s here. So are Claire and Killian. Maven is too, and she’s in Seph’s usual room, so don’t be playing pranks thinking he’s in there.” She looked at the three bags of presents. “Leave them there and I’ll put them under the tree in the morning. Funnily enough, I didn’t see Joseph bring any gifts in. Wonder why that is.” Even at two in the morning Marie Callaghan’s words could combust with sarcasm.
“Anyway, it’s good to see you both. And it’s been too long, but we’ll talk about that tomorrow.” She opened her arms and took me in a big hug.
I buried into her, inhaling the same scent I’d known since being a little girl, one that signified comfort and safety, sweet words and gently given sarcasm. Marie Callaghan was nothing if not a little salty.
I was let go rather more quickly that I’d anticipated, and she moved to Owen, forcing him to drop lower so she could smother him in another hug.
I heard him laugh and saw him hug back, thankful that I’d met a man who found my sometimes intense and slightly eccentric family amusing as opposed to smothering and interfering. It was a fine line, one we were all aware of.
“Go to bed. Rest. Make the most of it, because everything will be loud and noisy tomorrow when everyone else gets here.” She patted us both and gestured towards the hallway that led to the stairs and the large bedrooms on the first floor. “Don’t set an alarm and I won’t let Seph wake you.”
“Night, Mum.” I smiled. It was so good to see her. She was always there when I needed her most.
As soon as I’d slipped between the sheets, I’d fallen asleep, totally unaware of what Owen was up to. I woke with him curled around me, his hand just underneath my boob, acting like another blanket.
Everything was still quiet, even though daylight was flickering through the curtains, although I suspected that was because most people were already up and busy somewhere else. I knew from various early morning texts sent by Claire that Eliza liked her breakfast sometime between six and half past, and any deviation from this resulted in a tantrum spiced with Satan.
A little like Claire could be, in fact, when she wasn’t fed regularly.
“Where are you going?”
Owen’s arm got a little tighter and I felt something hard and rather welcome against my bottom.
“Bathroom.”
“Come back to bed after. No need to get up yet.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, still half-asleep.
I did what I needed to do and gave my teeth a quick brush, surprisingly feeling less tired than I had for weeks, even though we’d probably not had eight hours sleep yet. Checking the time wasn’t necessary; we had nowhere to be. Christmas shopping was done, presents to people that we wouldn’t see over the holiday delivered and work was switched off for the next ten days. It was just us.
Plus just a few family members.
I slipped back into bed, taking my fill of Owen who had slept naked and the duvet had wrapped around his waist as he’d turned over onto his back.
He played rugby still and went to the gym – mainly to work on his strength for playing rugby – but he put his physique down to good genes rather than any obsession with working out. I wasn’t complaining. But then, even if he did develop a dadbod at some point, I wouldn’t be complaining.
The debate was whether to let him sleep or wake him up.
But what man wouldn’t want waking up with a hot mouth around their cock?
I inched onto the mattress and worked my way up, pulling the duvet away. It was cold outside – we were due a white Christmas and snow had looked like it was on the way last night – but the house was always toasty warm.
The erection I’d felt against me before was still present. I ran a finger up and down the hard length, seeing it harden further. I’d never gotten over the silkiness that coated the iron.
I licked first, wishing I knew how it felt to be woken up like this, wanting – not for the first time – to be in Owen’s head. My tongue ran around the tip, teasing before I took it into my mouth, just an inch, and gently sucked.
A hand landed softly on my head, fingers entwining themselves in my hair. I heard a groan, then another hand reached for me, moving onto my shoulder.
“Is it Christmas?”
I laughed, the vibrations from it making him impossibly harder still.
“Payts, come up here. Come sit on my face. I need breakfast.” His words were lazy, his fingers tightening on my hair to guide me up and away from his cock. “Lose the T-shirt.”
I pulled it off, watching his face as his eyes unabashedly took in my breasts. His hands went to them, gently moving across my skin and to my nipples, his hands feathering over them.
“I still can’t believe you’re with me.” His words were reverent, a prayer almost.
His touch went south to my hips, guiding me further up him, then moving my centre down to his mouth.
The first lick had me clutching the headboard. Firm then soft; rapid, then slow. We’d learned this over the last couple of years; how to get each other started, how to induce a quick orgasm, how to extend the need and edge it out, making the other beg for mercy. Owen was inventive, imaginative. Dirty.
And he knew me enough, loved me enough, to know what I needed when.
Like now, his strength holding me up as he did delicious things to me with his mouth and tongue, moving me as if I was his plaything, his toy with which he could play.
I clung on to the metal frame as I came, attempting to muffle my cry in case someone next door could hear.
He didn’t give me chance to breath. As soon as my legs relaxed, now soggy noodles, he brought me down to his cock. I grasped it, knowing where this was going, anticipation coursing through me. A fresh rush of wetness hit my centre, needing to have him in me. He was canny, was Owen. He knew that if he made me come without fingering me or entering me, I’d want him inside.
I was guided down by his strong arms onto his cock, feeling his size stretch me. The groan that came from him told me all I needed to know about how tight I was after my orgasm.
He stilled when he was fully seated inside, his breathing hard and shallow. “This isn’t going to set any endurance records.”
I shook my head, not caring. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert. All I needed was another touch, another thrust and I’d explode again, shattering into pieces that only Owen could place back together.
He started to move me, his own hips bucking in shallow movements that seemed to hit the magic spot, taking me closer towards that precipice.
I found the strength in my legs to start to move and our pace became frantic. My hands were on his shoulders, pressing down as he pushed into me, whispering words about how he felt inside me, how I looked, making promises about what else he wanted to do.
My orgasm was hard, wet. He gripped my hips, steadying me as he poured into my heat with a cry, his whole body tensing, his eyes gazing into mine. I felt my chest swell like it did every time with everything I felt for this man who had become my world.
I collapsed onto his chest, feeling his heart racing. The hands that could bring me to orgasm so easily now held me, his kisses soft against my hair.
“I love you, Payton Callaghan.” It was a whisper, but it was strong enough to make saltwater leak from my eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop telling you that.”
Breakfast was still happening by the time we dragged ourselves out of bed, showered and headed out into civilisation. Seph was making himself useful cooking bacon and sausages, squeezing the odd orange and generally smiling. He’d annoyed me when we’d been shopping, not taking anything seriously, completely unbothered by the fact that yet again he didn’t have Christmas presents for any of us, bar the youngest.
&
nbsp; But then I remembered the Seph-ness of him. The easy going, laid-back boy who’d morphed into an adult who loved so goddamn hard. He hated being on his own, craved company and loathed waking up and having no one to speak with, hence when he hadn’t been crashing with one of us, he would have a series of one-night stands.
He was Tigger from the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, bounding everywhere, continually upbeat, until he wasn’t.
“Morning,” Seph looked up with a grin.
I noticed what he was wearing, an apron with ‘Santa’s Little Helper’ written across the middle, only the background was what looked like a cartoon body builder wearing a tiny jock strap.
It wasn’t the most appetising image.
“Where on earth did you get that from?”
He looked down and grinned again. “Found it in Mum’s cupboard. Think she must’ve bought it for Dad.”
I rolled my eyes and headed to the coffee machine. I didn’t need to think too much about that for the sake of my sanity.
“Max and Vic are here. I helped them carry in what felt like a dozen suitcases while you were sleeping, or whatever it was you were doing.” Seph buttered a bread roll, glancing over at Owen. “You need to replenish some energy?”
Owen chuckled. Very little ever rankled him. “I won’t turn down a bacon butty. With ketchup.”
He devoured it in about three mouthfuls, and I wondered if he’d caught his manners from my twin.
My sister-in-law to be’s voice filtered down the hallway into the kitchen, her words making Maxwell laugh. I’d never quite gotten over the effect that Victoria had on Max: since she’d been around, he’d been lighter; the weight of the world that he’d carried had lessened and he’d smiled more. Mainly at Vic, but it had been an improvement given that he’d never really smiled at anyone before.
“Payton!” Vic’s face beamed as she saw me, stepping over quickly and giving me a hug that was heavy despite her petite size. “I haven’t seen you for weeks!”
This probably wasn’t true, as she’d been in the offices to yank Max away from work when I’d been there, but we hadn’t had the chance to catch up. This season was always busy; clients wanted their cases to be closed before the New Year, everyone was rushing before offices shut for the Christmas break. There had just about been enough time to get semi-organised for a week and a half away, and five minutes for a prayer of having some time to relax.
“Everything’s been such a rush. Are you ready to marry my grumpy brother?” I glanced over her shoulder at Max who was standing there watching us. His eyes were soft; his face relaxed and he couldn’t take his eyes off Victoria, even though it was only her back he could see.
“I think I was ready about six months ago. Sometimes I think we should’ve stuck with the original plan and eloped.”
I shook my head. “No. We have to see you off. We have to make sure you definitely say yes and make sure Max is your responsibility from now on.”
There was a cough, a very fake one. “You realise I’m standing right here?”
I grinned at my biggest brother. He was still dark haired, no signs of grey. His hair was thick and slightly curly, and his dark brown eyes had never changed. I remembered being a little girl who had fallen over, only to be picked up by Max with those eyes looking down sympathetically at me.
He’d been great with us when we were younger, even with Seph, for whom there was an argument that he should’ve been left to the wolves. He’d be a great dad someday, hopefully soon.
It was a thought that made me leave Vic and give him an enormous hug, even though I had only seen him the day before. I knew he and Victoria had been trying to get pregnant for some months and nothing was happening. He hadn’t said anything about it, but Claire had known, telling me and Ava that it was massively upsetting Max especially, while Vic was a little more of the side that it just needed time. They’d been checked to see if there was an issue, and nothing was preventing a pregnancy.
“What’s this for?” Max sounded suspicious. “You never hug people. Unless it’s Owen.”
“I’m happy you’re finally getting married.” I couldn’t disclose the truth. “Just need to make sure Vic doesn’t see sense at the last moment.”
His laugh rumbled through me before he stepped away, taking Victoria in his arms. “I’ll keep on fu…”
Then there was a well-directed elbow from Vic and Max just started laughing.
Laughter that was punctuated by the sound of a timer and Seph yelling something about sausages.
We were definitely home for Christmas.
4
An emerald and diamond eternity ring – from Killian to Claire
Victoria
“What do you have to get?”
My chauffeur wasn’t entirely happy having to drive me into Oxford for more Christmas shopping, even though I knew damn well he hadn’t bought pretty much anything yet himself.
“I need to pick up Max’s present. They couldn’t get it in the London store in time.” I did question Seph’s driving. It was reminiscent of an eighty-year-old who was driving his mother, such was the speed.
“Christmas present?”
“Actually, no. It’s a gift for on our wedding day.”
Seph glanced at me, his hands firmly in the ten and two position on the steering wheel. “What?”
“It’s tradition for the bride and groom to give each other gifts on their wedding day.” We were actually keeping more traditions than we’d planned, fuck knew how, because we’d originally intended to get married on a beach somewhere with some random witnesses.
“I get why Max has to give you a present. You need some form of compensation for putting up with his grumpy arse, but he gets you. That should be enough gifts to last till your sixtieth wedding anniversary. At least.” Seph sounded extremely indignant.
I wasn’t sure if that was because he genuinely believed that, or he was just cheesed off that we were hitting a shopping centre a couple of days before Christmas Eve.
“That’s sweet. This gives you a chance to at least get a couple of presents.” I watched him pull a face. “Seph, why don’t you like getting presents for your family?”
He shrugged. “I never know what to get. When I think of something it always seems it’s not enough.”
“No one’s bothered about how much you spend, Seph. It’s just a token.” It was like him to fret, but usually he got over it quickly. This seemed like a long-running hang-up.
He actually lifted a hand off the steering wheel and pushed his fingers through his hair, making it stick up.
“I know. I just worry about getting the wrong token, or someone hating it. I don’t want to be that present giver whose gifts are always disposed of.” He turned into the car park, going ridiculously slowly into the multi-storey.
I sighed and managed to stop myself from laughing. Seph would overthink. Then he’d pretend he hadn’t over thought something and go back to being effervescent and cheery. “Joseph, you’re giving this too much thought.”
He made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a groan. I’d heard exactly the same sound from Max many a time when he’d been undecided and frustrated with his indecision.
“What’s a token gift? What’s the definition of it?” He pulled carefully into a parking space, reversing with ease.
I was a little in awe as reverse parking was not something I’d ever managed to master.
“A book. A thoughtful gift, so like for Ava, as she’s a coffee addict, a coffee mug with some posh beans. Max would be whisky and maybe a glass to go with it. Callum would be something to do with travelling, so a travel toiletries bag with mini shower gels in or something like that.” I could’ve given him a list for each of his siblings and their partners, but I didn’t want to become his crutch for present giving. Seph sometimes struggled to be confident in himself.
He turned off the ignition. “I can’t take your ideas, Vic. What if you need them?”
I got out of the door an
d felt the cold of the air hit me. A few flakes of snow had already started to fall, and a weather warning had gone out for black ice. Luckily, I was with the world’s most cautious driver.
“My shopping’s already done, and generally it’s Max who picks out your presents. Or one of them. I had to get a couple of extra bits that were nice.” Max had decided to dust off his sense of humour for some of this year’s treats, mainly because we’d done another traditional thing of getting favours and thank yous for the wedding, and he felt he’d been too nice to everyone already.
Seph locked the car and stuffed his hands into his coat, some designer thing he’d been gifted after an interview for a magazine that was meant to be business focused. I was aware he’d received a few indecent proposals after that, much to Jackson’s mirth and Max’s annoyance.
“So, books, alcohol, gift things?”
“Pretty much.” I sighed. “Shall I come with you?”
He nodded. “I found some old photos last night in the cabin. I might buy a frame for one and give it Mum.”
“Who’s it of?”
The smirk returned. “It’s her with the first four. I think it’s just after she moved over here, and she looked completely harassed and holding a glass of wine.”
“That’s what to go for. And maybe something she likes – slippers, or gloves. Keep it simple.”
He nodded, looking serious. “I feel a bit thick shopping this close to Christmas Eve.”
“No need. I know your father is currently shopping, trying to find a gift for your mother. Now that’s pressure.”
I meandered around the shops, Max’s treasure in hand, browsing in windows and making the occasional trip inside in case I saw anything that would be a sweet extra for someone. In just days’ time, I’d be getting married and it still felt a little unreal. Very unreal.
My best friend, Jacob, was giving me away. After the death of my grandfather, family on my side wasn’t something I had any more, and while I hadn’t been looking for a replacement for what I could’ve had, Max’s family were there. I had friends, I had a job I loved, and I had Max. His family were my bonus.