Reconciled for Easter

by Noelle Adams

  She was bucking up her hips involuntarily, trying to get some friction against her throbbing arousal. She knew Thomas was aroused too—he’d been aroused from the beginning—but he was tightly controlling himself and he hadn’t yet lost his restraint.

  When she started clawing at his back through his shirt, Abigail finally panted, “Thomas! I’m turned on. You’re killing me now.”

  Thomas raised his head to look up at her flushed, damp face, and Abigail took advantage of his distraction to grab fistfuls of his shirt so she could pull it off over his head.

  He raised his hands to help her get it off. “I want it to be really good for you,” he murmured, his gaze so hot and tender that she wanted to melt into the bed.

  His words and the sentiment touched her deeply, but a sliver of irony rose up, prompting her to say, “Well, if you don’t get moving, I’m going to take matters in hand, and it’s going to be good for me, all by myself.”

  He stifled a burst of laughter and pulled her up into an embrace. After kissing her hard and deep, he mouthed a wet trail along her jaw and to her ear. “Keep making me laugh like that,” he murmured thickly, “And we might have an unfortunate incident”

  Abigail was torn between appreciative laughter and a secret thrill of delight. She knew Thomas was teasing, but he wouldn’t have teased about it unless his declining control was really an issue.

  And the thought that Thomas was so affected by her was the deepest kind of aphrodisiac.

  Thomas had shifted his position above her, so that the hard bulge in his pants was in line with her groin. She folded her legs up on either side of his hips. She whimpered at the stimulation, and started to grind against him urgently.

  “Fuck!” Thomas gasped, straightening his arms and holding himself still. His features were twisted with effort. “Abigail, baby, I wasn’t kidding.”

  She stopped rubbing against him and just stared up at his damp face, her mind whirling with the sensations and with what Thomas had just revealed.

  “Sorry.” Her hands settled on his shoulders and she smiled up at him shyly. “I didn’t mean to.”

  He chuckled again—thick and hoarse—and then he leaned down to kiss her. “You can do whatever you want. I just wanted you to know there might be consequences.”

  She giggled at his wry tone. “An unfortunate incident.”

  “It is a possibility. It’s been a really long couple of days,” he admitted.

  Abigail’s face softened. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t. We’re together now. We’re not looking back.”

  Abigail reached over to push down his flannel pants until he was as naked as she was. Then she spread her thighs to make room for him between them, weaving her fingers together at the back of his neck.

  After giving her another quick kiss, Thomas reached down and slid two of his fingers against her hot, aroused flesh. Abigail sucked in her breath. Then gave a little moan as he sunk his fingers inside her.

  Having determined that she was ready for him, Thomas pulled his fingers out and lined his erection up at her entrance.

  Then, with a rock of his hips, he slid himself in, the substance of him pushing into the very tight clasp of her body.

  Abigail grunted and arched her back up, her arms flying out to clutch at the blanket beneath her as he pushed in more deeply.

  “Abigail,” Thomas rasped, his body tensing dramatically and his head jerking to the side. “Oh, fuck.”

  Breathing deeply and relaxing around him, Abigail desperately hoped he wasn’t going to lose it.

  It might be thrilling that he wanted her so much, but it would be a bit of a letdown if it was over before it started.

  He was breathing through his nose, so heavily his nostrils were flaring. But after a minute he looked back down at her questioning face and anxious eyes. “No worries. You can move now.”

  She couldn’t stifle a relieved chuckle. “Oh, good.” She adjusted her legs, and reached up to hold onto his bare shoulders.

  “I think it’s the overload of emotion.” He shifted his knees, which caused his erection to slide inside her a little. Then his mouth twitched slightly. “I’m usually a man of iron control.”

  Abigail stroked his face tenderly “I know.”

  Thomas braced himself on his arms, and his expression changed--grew both hot and focused. Abigail felt her arousal pulsing again, intensified by the solid feel of him inside her.

  Responding to her implicit challenge, Thomas pulled his pelvis back until only the tip of his erection was inside her. Then he thrust back in, with a long, tight slide.

  Hissing in a breath, Abigail arched her neck and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the delicious sensations.

  Thomas pulled back again and gave another long thrust, the push of his hard flesh stimulating her inner walls on both the withdrawal and the advance.

  “So good,” she breathed as he continued, rocking her hips up to meet each of his thrusts. It felt right and good and somehow freeing. As if was really her, and he was really Thomas—their real selves and not the masks they put on.

  Thomas’s eyes were devouring her face, her naked breasts, and her sprawled hair. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

  Abigail whimpered in response, feeling almost as much from his gaze and his voice as she was from the motion of him inside her. “I’ve never wanted anyone but you either.”

  Thomas’s tense face broke into a smile, and he reared up even farther, changing the angle of his penetration.

  Abigail cried out in startled pleasure and let go of his shoulders again, her arms going above her head and fumbling for purchase on the pillow.

  Thomas was so tight that the muscles in his chest and arms were visibly clenched. He was watching her with heated possession. “Can you come, baby?”

  Abigail almost sobbed as the pleasure became torturous because she couldn’t quite find her release. “Think so,” she panted.

  She managed to focus enough to move one of her arms down and squeeze her hand between their bellies. Thomas had to pull up even farther, but she fumbled around near where they were connected—brushing her knuckles against the base of Thomas’s shaft—until she was able to press two fingertips against her clit.

  As soon as she rubbed a tight circle, she felt a rush of relieving pleasure.

  Perspiration was running down the side of his face now, and all of his features were rigid with effort except his eyes—which were still raking over her. “Come, baby. Come.”

  Her voice was almost embarrassingly shrill, but she couldn’t care as her orgasm began to overwhelm her. “Thomas!”

  She came on the word, her body starting to convulse as all of the luscious pressure was finally released inside her.

  “Fuck,” Thomas grunted, thrusting with primitive urgency into her clenching muscles in short, rapid strokes. “Abigail, baby.”

  She was coming down from her climax, just as Thomas was finally letting go. So she held onto him with her legs and her free arm and gazed up at his tense face.

  It took him a minute before he could release the last thread of his control, and there was something incongruously intimate about holding him like this, watching him take pleasure in her so visibly, nakedly.

  His pelvis jerked erratically—having totally fallen out of rhythm—and it felt like inside was swelling inside the tightened clasp of her channel. Then his twisting features abruptly transformed in a rush of tangible relief.

  He froze on a muffled, incoherent exclamation. Then gave a few, hard, spasmodic jerks inside her.

  Then he was coming, moaning hoarsely as he gave into his release.

  Her eyes were burning, and for some reason Abigail felt almost as affected by watching him come as she'd been from coming herself. She pulled her hand out from between their bodies and wrapped both of her arms around him, holding him with strong urgency as she felt him finally begin to relax.

  He bent his
arms and folded his forearms beneath her shoulders, so he could return her embrace.

  He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. They both just gasped and clutched at the other, and Thomas lowered his head until he was breathing hotly against her hair.

  And she felt whole then. Like they were whole. Like they were really one.

  And she managed to say with the last of her breath, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  He smiled and said, “I do.”

  ***

  They went to pick up Mia when they pulled themselves together, and all of them went out for an early dinner.

  Mia was obviously thrilled to see that Thomas was with them, but she didn’t ask any questions about why he was there or what had happened between them.

  Maybe things were simpler for her, or maybe she was just waiting to see what happened. It was hard to tell with Mia.

  They went back to the little house after dinner, and they all piled in Abigail’s bed to watch a movie and then read.

  And Abigail couldn’t remember ever being happier, feeling more like a family.

  It was after nine when Mia finally went to bed. She wasn’t too happy about bedtime, but Abigail told her she needed to get some good sleep, since tomorrow was Easter.

  Thomas asked what Mia was most looking forward to about Easter, and the girl thought for a long time and said it was a tie between wearing her new dress and singing her favorite hymn with all the Alleluias and knowing that Jesus had risen from the dead. He stroked her hair and told her they were all good things, but the last was most important. He told her that Easter was about hope and victory and new life—the sign that what was wrong with the world would one day, finally be fixed.

  She nodded gravely and leaned up for her bedtime kisses from both of them. And, as they were leaving the room, she asked, “Like us?”

  “Like us what?” Thomas asked, turning around.

  “Being fixed. Us as a family. We were fixed because of Easter?”

  “Yes,” Thomas said, his eyes meeting Abigail’s in the dim light of the room. “That’s right.”

  ***

  The next morning, three of them went to the sunrise service, which was held outside on the lawns of the church, from which there was a view of the sun rising from behind the mountains through the clouds in a splendor of orange and purple.

  The morning was chilly, and Abigail and Mia were wearing thick sweaters over their Easter dresses, but they still huddled together for warmth.

  Abigail felt overly emotional as she sang and prayed, her arm around Mia and Thomas’s arm around both of them.

  She listened to Daniel talk about the resurrection as being so full of hope and joy because suffering and death are so real and powerful in the world.

  And it felt to her, standing there with Thomas and Mia, that their marriage, their family, might be full of even more hope and joy because they’d both worked so hard to get here.

  There would be more work—some of it excruciating—and more joy too. Both of them a kind of gift.

  Afterwards, they all went back to the church building to have a breakfast before the regular church service.

  Lydia ran over to hug them all with obvious delight and excitement, and Jessica and Daniel were both beaming when they looked in her direction. It didn’t even make Abigail feel self-conscious.

  It seemed natural for others to be happy for them—to be happy that what was broken could eventually be mended.

  She wanted to be part of this church, have these people as part of her life and the life of her family. They probably didn’t understand everything that she and Thomas had been through—who could if they didn’t live through it themselves?—but these people seemed to care about both of them, feel with and for both of them.

  And she realized with a pang of surprise that she wasn’t even assuming they were judging her for all the mistakes she had made.

  After the breakfast was over and people were cleaning up, Abigail noticed Sophie Miller in a corner on her own, wiping down one of the tables.

  Abigail went over to say hello, since she hadn’t seen Sophie since the book club, except just in passing.

  Sophie smiled, looking lovely in a pale blue dress but with a kind of loneliness under the surface.

  Abigail started helping by straightening the chairs around the table that Sophie was wiping. “Do you have plans for dinner today?” she asked, thinking that maybe they could invite Sophie over if she wasn’t already doing something.

  They were having dinner with Thomas’s parents and Lydia, Gabe, and Ellie, but she didn’t think anyone would mind an extra.

  “Yeah,” Sophie said with a smile. “The Duncans invited me over.”

  “Oh, good. Maybe we could have lunch sometime in the next week or two,” Abigail suggested, the idea coming to her spontaneously. “I’m going to start coming to church here now, and I wanted to get to know some more people.”

  “I’d like that,” Sophie said with a smile. “I’m glad things are going better with…” She trailed off, but completed the thought by nodding toward Thomas, who was having an earnest conversation with Mia and Ellie.

  “Yeah,” Abigail said, feeling a rush of pleasure at the knowledge that the other woman’s observation was true. They didn’t just look like they were doing better. They were doing better. “We’re still working on things, but we’re…we’re happy too.”

  Then she remembered that Sophie’s situation wasn’t nearly as hopeful as hers was. “I guess you get tired of people asking you if there’s any news about Mark,” she said.

  Sophie nodded with a dry smile. “It was really bad at the beginning. No one could seem to talk to me about anything else. But no one asks anymore. I think they’re afraid of hearing the answer—that they’ve given up hope.”

  “But you haven’t given up hope, have you? Prisoners do get returned from…from situations like that, don’t they?”

  “Not always, but they sometimes do. It’s just a matter of when. I can’t even imagine what he’s going through. It’s going to have changed him so much. I’m not even sure I’ll know him when he comes home.”

  She’d said something similar the day of the book club, and Abigail could completely understand why. “Yeah,” she murmured, not even sure how to answer the poignancy of the words. “I can see that.”

  Sophie smiled, her face clearing. “What about Thursday for lunch? Does that work for you?”

  Abigail thought quickly over her schedule before saying that Thursday worked fine.

  ***

  Dinner lasted for a long time—between the preparation, eating, and aftermath, so it was late afternoon when things finally started to wind down.

  Mia and Ellie wanted to play outside at Thomas’s parents’ house, so Abigail went out with the girls since Thomas and Gabe were in the middle of a conversation about local politics and the others were working in the kitchen.

  Abigail had had a really good day. She felt tired and incredibly hopeful. It felt like she was really part of this family.

  But it made her think about her own parents, about the Easter card her mother had sent her—signed simply, “Love, Mom.”

  Sitting on one of the deck chairs, watching the girls play, Abigail finally pulled out her phone and stared down at it.

  She stared for so long and with such focus that she gave a little start when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Is everything all right?”

  She looked up to see Thomas. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, at the knowledge that they were together again, that they really heard and understood each other at last.

  “Yeah.” She waited until Thomas had taken the seat next to hers on the deck. “I was actually trying to get the courage up to call my mom.”

  He looked surprised. “Really? Do you think she’ll talk to you?”

  “I don’t know. If my dad is around, probably not. But I feel like I want to try. I don’t know—I just don’t like to leave it
broken that way. You and I were able to work through things, so that gives me hope that maybe… I don’t know.”

  “It can’t hurt to try,” he murmured.

  It could hurt. It would hurt if her mother hung up on her. It would hurt a lot. But she knew what Thomas was saying.

  She nodded, praying silently as she worked up the last of her courage. “Okay. I’m going to do it.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  She shook her head. “It will help if you’re here.”

  She saw the words wash over Thomas’s face and realized they meant something to him.

  She couldn’t let that distract her, though, as she scrolled for her parents’ number.

  As the phone rang, Thomas reached over and took her hand.

  He held it as she waited, and as her mother’s soft voice came on the line.

  The conversation lasted only three minutes—mostly just Happy Easters and some news about Mia. Thomas held her hand the whole time.

  Her father obviously didn’t want to talk to her, but her mother didn’t hang up.

  So that felt like a victory too.

  ***

  They spent the night at Thomas’s house. It was going to be their house soon, since Abigail and Mia were going to give up their little rented bungalow and move in with him.

  It already felt like their home as they piled up on the couch together to read a book out loud. They were reading Little Men now, which Mia liked even better than Little Women, although they had to fill her in on the backstory from the second half of the previous book.

  When they put Mia to bed, they came back to the living room and Thomas collapsed on the couch, sprawled out the whole length of it.

  Abigail smiled down at him, feeling rather sappy. He looked absolutely exhausted—which was a characteristic Thomas-look. But he also looked happy.

  So happy.

  And she felt so pleased and proud and overwhelmed that she was part of why he was so happy.

  He reached an arm out toward her, and she came to him willingly, letting him settle her half-beside and half-on-top of him—both of them stretched out on the couch.

  “I love you,” he murmured, brushing a kiss into her hair.