by Noelle Adams
Today, Mia had been wearing a casual, red knit dress with “Bookworm” written across the front, but, as she reentered the room, she was already pulling her dress off over her head.
She was dragging another dress behind her.
“I can wear my pretty dress too!” Mia exclaimed through the fabric as she tried to pull her red dress off without taking her glasses with it.
Abigail was torn between laughter and a surge of affection at Mia’s desire to dress up with her.
When Mia dropped the red dress on the floor, she held up the fancy, ruffled dress she’d gone to get from her closet. “The one that Daddy bought me. See?”
“I see. Yes, why don’t you put it on and show me how pretty it is?”
Earlier that week, they’d gone for a walk to a café on Willow Park’s quaint downtown street. In the window of one of the crafty shops that appealed to tourists, Mia had seen this gorgeous, intricately sewn, very expensive, lavender dress.
So Thomas had bought it for her.
Abigail wasn’t in the habit of buying Mia dresses that fancy, since there was almost nowhere for her to wear them and she’d grow out of them so soon. But she hadn’t objected to the purchase, since they’d had such a good evening together and an occasional treat wouldn’t be a problem.
Mia pulled the dress over her head, and Abigail helped her one-handed with the buttons. Then Mia beamed up at her. “Am I pretty?”
Strands of hair were slipping out of the long blonde braids, and the wire-rimmed glasses were slipping down on Mia’s nose, but Abigail told her the truth. “You are beautiful.”
Clapping her hands in one of her rare, giddy moods, Mia twirled around to make the skirt of her dress flare. “Is your dress twirly too?”
Abigail did a spin to show Mia that her skirt was indeed a twirly one.
They did a few more twirls, giggling and admiring their gorgeousness in the big mirror. And Abigail was momentarily so overwhelmed with joyful affection that she pulled Mia into a tight hug. When the hug ended, Mia didn’t let go of her good arm. Holding on with both hands, Mia pulled Abigail into another twirl, this one with both of them circling together, hampered only by the cast on Abigail’s arm.
They were both breathless with laughter when they finally broke it off. And they both jumped in surprise at a warm drawl from the doorway. “I thought I heard some twirling going on.”
“Daddy!” Mia exclaimed, flushed and merry. “Come twirl with us!”
“I don’t think I’m much of a twirler,” Thomas said. But he entered the room, his eyes resting on Mia’s face with obvious tenderness.
“Aren’t we pretty?” Mia demanded, holding up the ends of her skirt to show off the delicate ruffles.
“Beautiful.” After spending a minute admiring his daughter, Thomas’s eyes shifted over to Abigail, who suddenly felt self-conscious in her dress. “Beautiful.”
“I was trying on this old dress,” Abigail explained sheepishly, “to see if I could fit into it again. And Mia saw me and wanted to wear her pretty dress too.”
“It would be a shame to let such splendor go to waste,” Thomas said, idly stroking hair back from Mia’s face. “I guess I’ll have to take my ladies out to dinner tonight, to let everyone see the pretty dresses.”
Abigail shot Thomas a sharp look at his choice of language, but he appeared completely unaware of any strangeness.
Mia danced with glee over the spontaneous outing until Thomas said, “We better leave pretty soon, if we’re going to get you back in time for bedtime. Run get your shoes on, and I’ll call to make sure they have room for us.”
“Put tights on too,” Abigail called, as Mia scurried off to get her shoes. “You’ll get cold with bare legs.”
When Thomas went to make his call, Abigail walked over to open a dresser drawer. She stared for a long time but she finally picked up a pair of thigh-high stockings with lace tops. It was probably silly to wear them, but they’d always made her feel pretty. Special. Sexy. Like a sign that she’d grown into herself.
Thomas hadn’t seemed to care for them much, but they weren’t about him. They’d never been about him, even though he was the only other person who would ever see them.
***
It was almost ten o’clock when they returned to the house.
Mia had been on an excited high the whole time, and Thomas had been charming and funny. Abigail had a remarkably good time—such a good time that she hadn’t hurried along the dinner, even though they were out much later than she usually allowed Mia to be.
While Abigail and Thomas had been drinking coffee, Mia had finally crashed. Then she’d fallen sound asleep in the car on the way home.
Abigail unlocked and opened the front door—then held it as Thomas entered too, carrying a sleeping Mia in his arms.
Without speaking, they went to Mia’s bedroom. After Thomas laid her gently on her bed, he started unbuckling her patent leather shoes while Abigail carefully pulled off the dress. She was able to get Mia in her nightgown without waking her, and Thomas turned off the light before they left the room.
“My mother called on the way home,” Thomas murmured. “I better call her back to see what she needed.”
Abigail nodded absently. She’d had a glass of wine with dinner and a very indulgent chocolate dessert. She was feeling deliciously relaxed and still far too pleased with the world to take off her dress yet. So she wandered into the living room and slipped off her shoes. She paced restlessly in stockinged feet for a minute until she decided to turn on some music.
She kept the volume low, but she found something with a rhythmic, sensuous sound that seemed to match her mood.
Looking out the window at the small-town street at night, she sketched a few steps, feeling the need to dance, to do something.
She enjoyed the music alone for a few minutes until suddenly a strong arm slipped around her waist and turned her around.
Gasping in surprise, her eyes flew up to Thomas’s face. He’d pulled her into a dance position, his arm around her waist. Immediately relaxing and falling into step with him, Abigail moved her good hand up to his shoulder and started to sway her hips with his.
Her broken arm was a little awkward at first, but soon it didn’t matter. She and Thomas moved together naturally, intuitively. They’d danced occasionally when they’d been together, but never in the living room without shoes.
Abigail loved it. It was a perfect outlet for her restlessness and her vaguely sensual mood. Thomas’s eyes were shadowed since she hadn’t turned on the overhead light, but his gaze never left her face.
She felt close to him—after three weeks of living together, after his being there for her in such intimate ways, after his generosity and consideration. And so it felt perfectly natural to move to his rhythm, to press her body against his, to synchronize their breathing.
Thomas’s hands had been at her waist, but gradually they slipped down further. It didn’t feel sleazy or presumptuous. She loved the feel of his hands on her bottom, gently guiding her rhythm. And the lean, hard line of his chest felt delicious as her breasts rubbed against it. The sound of the music seemed to mingle with the physical sensations to sweep Abigail away in a sensuous wave.
Eventually, everything felt so good that she dropped her head back and closed her eyes, arching slightly against the heat of his body. And it took her a minute to recognize that Thomas’s hands had changed positions again. They’d hiked up the fabric of her dress and were caressing the back of her thighs, just where her stockings met skin.
Thomas's hands were also easing her pelvis into his. The hard bulge she felt at the front of his pants seemed natural too, seemed one more tantalizing feature of the entire experience.
And when his head bent down and his mouth started to move across the exposed skin at the side of her neck, she didn’t even question it. She wanted it. Wanted to feel him like that.
When his teeth scraped lightly against her skin, she was suddenly conscious of how aro
used she was. Deeply aroused, the pressure pulsing to the beat of the music.
She moaned softly, unable to stifle the pleasure of feeling so incredibly good.
Thomas’s hips jerked slightly against her, an uncontrolled move that suddenly jarred her out of her haze.
“What are we doing?” she gasped, still unable to pull away from the warm strength of his body.
“What do you think?” Thomas murmured, throaty and erotic. Once again, he gently pushed his pelvis against hers, and Abigail’s intimate muscles clenched in response.
Thomas leaned down again to mouth the side of her neck and said against her skin, “I believe this is foreplay.”
Abigail felt a flash of terror, followed by a swell of the deepest need she could remember.
Having sex with Thomas was exactly what she wanted to do. He was her husband. She felt close to him again. She wanted to feel closer still.
But it also made her heart race in anxiety.
Thomas raised his head to meet her eyes—his gaze hot, hungry, so familiar. “Abigail? Do you want to?”
She shifted against him, loving the feel of his hard body, the evidence of his desire for her against her middle. “I don’t know,” she admitted breathlessly.
He opened his mouth to say something, but just then his phone rang from the table beside the couch.
At the sound, Abigail jerked in surprise. Then she released a sigh of relief. “You better get it. It might be your mom again.”
Thomas shook his head, his hands still palming her bottom. “It can wait. She was just asking about some plans for Easter dinner.”
She pulled away, needing some space to figure out what she wanted to do. “Get it.”
He looked like he was going to object, but then he obviously changed his mind. Pressing his lips together in a tight line, he walked over to pick up his phone, moving a little more stiffly than normal.
Abigail fled, hurrying to her bedroom so she could get away from Thomas for a few minutes and figure things out. There, she sat on the edge of her bed and breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind, calm her physical excitement, and recover her senses.
Obviously, she wanted to have sex with Thomas. But she didn’t know if she was ready yet, and she didn’t know what it would mean for the future.
They had to be so careful. They just couldn’t move too quickly.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat and mulled over possibilities. Maybe just a minute. Maybe a few. Then Thomas tapped on her door and let himself in without waiting for her response.
He walked over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. He looked at her with quiet, intense eyes but didn’t say anything.
He was still aroused. She could see it in the slight flush on his cheeks, the coiled tension in his posture, the bulge at the front of his trousers. She was still aroused too, even her confusion failing to quench the desire.
“Thomas,” she said, her voice a little strangled, “I do want to. I’m just…scared.”
He turned toward her more fully. Once again, his mouth opened, as if he were about to make his case. Then something flickered over his expression, and he gave his head a slight shake.
Instead of speaking, he took her face in his hands with an urgency that surprised her. He leaned into a hungry kiss.
She responded, couldn’t help but respond. His mouth was passionate, searching, strangely needy. And his hands hadn’t released her face, holding it like she was precious. And it was the need she sensed in him more than the desire that dissolved the last of her resistance.
She moaned deep in her throat and twined her good arm around his neck. She opened to the stroke of his tongue, the pressure of her arousal pulsing up through her spine to overwhelm her entire being.
Gently, but with an ardor that surprised her, Thomas eased her back onto the bed as they kissed, and she adjusted to pull her legs up so she was stretched out beneath him.
He was careful about resting his weight on her—probably out of consideration to her recently healed ribs—but she loved the feel of his firm, heated body above her, as much as she loved the way his mouth ravenously plundered hers.
Her right arm sprawled out to the side, and she felt at a slight disadvantage since she only had one arm with which to hold him against her, stroke his body. But she rubbed her good hand down the line of his spine until she could clutch at the tight muscles of his ass, trying to push his pelvis down harder against hers.
When he finally tore away from the kiss, they were both panting and slightly dazed. They stared at each other for several seconds, and Abigail was astonished by the degree of hot need visible in his eyes.
“Thomas,” she gasped, arching her neck as he lowered his face to trail kisses down her throat.
He hummed against her pulse point, the vibrations making her shiver. Then he raised himself enough to take her breasts in his hands, squeezing them lightly before he caressed down to her hips over the thin fabric of her dress. He’d started to push up her skirt when he leaned down into another kiss.
She sucked his tongue into her mouth and adjusted her hand so she could stroke his hair.
He groaned softly into the kiss, a helpless, erotic sound that thrilled her, causing her to grind her hips up against his.
“Baby,” Thomas murmured, his voice muffled as he gave her lower lip a little tug with both of his. “You feel so good.”
She arched up into him, as affected by his words as she was by his touch. He’d bunched her skirt up around her waist, and one of his hands had dipped under the lace of her pretty white panties.
“Thomas.” She still caressed his head, her fingertips brushing along the curve and ridges of his skull through his hair. “I want my dress off. You need to help.”
He gave a choked laugh, pulling up again with a smile she hadn’t expected. “So now you’re finally asking for my help?”
Despite her deepening desire, which compelled her to squirm her hips against the sensations, she couldn’t help but giggle too. “Please?”
He was already sweating a little, perspiration glistening at the center of his forehead and on the sides of his jaw. But his hands were controlled and gentle as he eased her shoulders up so he could reach the zipper of her dress.
When he’d unzipped it, she lifted her hips so he could pull it up past her upper body and over her head. He had to pause to edge the sleeve over her cast, but soon he’d dropped the dress over the side of the bed.
He stared down at her body for a minute, even though he’d seen it any number of times over the last three weeks. She wore her lace panties and a matching bra with her thigh-high stockings.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said thickly, leaning down to mouth his way from her throat to the top of her breasts. When he took a nipple in his mouth through her bra, Abigail gasped at a jolt of pleasure and tried to push her chest up toward his face.
He suckled for a while, fondling her other breast with his hand. And soon Abigail was moaning helplessly and trying to wrap her leg around his body to get some friction where she needed it.
“Thomas, you’re driving me crazy.” Despite her words, she still had her hand on his head and unconsciously pushed it toward her breast.
He moved further down her body, mouthing a sensitive spot on her side. He kissed along her belly until he’d reached the edge of her panties.
Shameless and eager, she bucked her hips up toward him, her arousal throbbing now and clenching with excitement as his mouth got closer and closer to where she wanted to feel it.
He nuzzled her through her panties, sliding his hands up to cup and squeeze her breasts.
“Thomas.” She couldn’t keep her pelvis still and tried to grind it against his face. She was so wet she knew he’d feel it even through her panties. “Please!”
His lips moved deliciously against the lace until he’d somehow managed to find her clit. He applied some skillful pressure, the fabric adding another layer of stimulation.
To her astonishme
nt, Abigail felt an orgasm swell up after about thirty seconds, and she thrashed her hips beneath his mouth as waves of pleasure sliced through her. Biting her lip, she managed to stifle the sounds of her release, making only a few broken mews.
She was gasping as a flush of relaxation washed over her when Thomas raised his head and moved higher up her body. His face was strained, and a sheen of perspiration covered his face, but she saw a gleam of something familiar in his eyes.
“Don’t say it,” she warned him, feeling more pleased than embarrassed at having come so quickly.
“I didn’t say a thing.” His lips twitched slightly, however, as he gazed down at her sated face and sprawled body.
“It had nothing to do with any particular skill of yours,” she added, just to keep up her end of the conversation. “I’ve had a long dry spell.”
Thomas chuckled as he pressed a soft kiss on her mouth. “I see.”
“There’s no call for smugness here.” Despite her tart tone, her hand stroked his back and head, unable to get enough of the feel of him, even through the fabric of his shirt.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You sound rather smug to me.” After another kiss, she pushed him up gently, feeling another swell of arousal growing between her legs. “You definitely need to take off your clothes now.”
He pulled up immediately and started to hurriedly unbutton his shirt. He undressed in record time. If Abigail hadn’t been overwhelmed with a new blaze of desire at the sight of his naked body, she would have been amused by the speed of his disrobing.
“Oh!” she gasped, as she stared down at his erection. “I’m not on birth control anymore. We need—”
“I’ve got some,” Thomas said gruffly, groaning as he heaved himself off the bed and pulled his trousers on again. He walked to the door and disappeared, evidently heading into the guest room. Then reappeared with a couple of condom packets.
“Why do you have those?”
He gave a slightly sheepish shrug as he dropped his pants. “Just in case.”
She gasped. “You thought—”
