Page 78 of All Yours

‘And now you make it special for the boys,’ Robyn said and he thought about the little routines he’d established with Reggie and George. Santa’s milk and biscuits left by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. The letters he helped the boys to write and then promised to post to Greenland. He laughed suddenly and grinned at Robyn.

‘This year, when I asked the boys to make a list for Santa, I thought that I could spoil them a bit. Thought maybe Reggie was ready for something remote controlled. But do you know what they both asked for?’

Robyn shook her head.

‘Pebbles! Big flat round pebbles. Apparently, they’re for—’

‘Painting,’ Robyn interrupted.

‘What? You know?’

‘It’s something we’ve been doing at the den. Painting on pebbles.’ She laughed. ‘They obviously like it!’ She was beaming, her smile growing wider as she stopped to point at a perfect five-footer.

‘That’s the one.’ Fox got to work with the saw. It was harder this time and after a couple of minutes, he took off his coat.

‘Hot stuff,’ Robyn said with an appreciative wink, and he flexed a muscle jokingly at her, but didn’t miss the way her eyes widened. He renewed his efforts, and a few minutes later, the tree fell. Fox let his saw hang by his side and his head fall back as his breath settled, closing his eyes.

Robyn’s voice was soft behind him.

‘So, now we know about Christmases past, how would you like me as a Christmas present?’ Fox opened his eyes and turned to see her leaning, one foot against the trunk of a tall pine. Her coat was open at the front, revealing a chocolate-brown jumper dress which hugged her figure beautifully.

‘All you need to do is unwrap me,’ she said, tilting her head to one side.

‘Here?’ Fox stammered, glancing left to right. ‘Now? Isn’t it a bit cold?’

‘I can think of a way we might warm up . . .’

‘People might see . . .’ he said, darting a look into the surrounding woods.

‘I know,’ she said, lifting her chin. Fox scanned the treeline again and then their eyes met, both of them challenging the other. He dropped the saw to the ground.

Two strides was all it took and then he was kissing her, hands all over that body under her coat, filling his hands with her breasts, then crushing her to him to grasp her bum. Robyn groaned into his mouth, and he was hard against her.

Her hands were down the front of his jeans, unbuckling him, freeing him, and she moaned to feel him so hot in her hand in the cold of the air. She ran her fingers up his shaft between them, before dropping to her knees on the forest floor. Fox gasped at the heat of her mouth as she sucked him in. The contrast of the air and her mouth was insane and he threw his head back and closed his eyes, no longer caring if anyone saw them. Robyn drew him deep into her throat, again and again, until he caught her hair and held her away. He had to fuck her, now.

Fox pulled her to her feet and bent her to the trunk, lifting her dress at the back and pulling down her tights to get to what he wanted, needed. She was wet already when he slid two fingers into her, and she arched her back, pushing against him as he plunged his fingers deep and used his thumb to circle her clit. She gripped the tree and held on tight, watching him over her shoulder. Her darkened eyes burned into his and her lips were swollen from his cock.

‘Come into me,’ she said. ‘Please.’

He didn’t need asking twice and she was wet and ready. He thrust into her, holding her by the waist with one hand as he sank into her, right up to the hilt. She staggered under the movement, but he held her in place, withdrawing and fucking her again and again, wrapping his left hand through her hair and holding her head back, driven mad by the way she uttered his name with every thrust of his cock until he came inside her, and all he could see was sky.

Chapter Forty-Three

Robyn

Later that night, the pool house was quiet, filled with warm lamplight. Robyn was exhausted, in a good way. A week of good sex, fresh air and yoga would do that to a woman. But she wanted to get the Christmas tree decorated that evening. Though it might be a bit early in December, she wanted to make the most of her Christmas in Honeybridge. Things were off to a good start if that afternoon was anything to go by.

Since the last Christmas she spent with Finn before he abandoned her, she’d spent the holiday under canvas, or in hostels, or occasionally in the height of luxury – a studio apartment. Instead of roast turkey, she’d eaten chicken burgers, barbecue or curry. She’d occasionally had the day off, but more often, she’d worked for the extra pay. She’d never been to midnight mass, but sometimes ended up drinking shots in a random bar with temporary friends on Christmas night. So, Robyn had a lot of making up to do.

Her little tree was stable in its pot in the corner and Willow stared at it from her position on the mat, where she kicked her legs and squawked occasionally, taking it all in.

Robyn had already hung some fir cones on the tree that she had sprayed gold and silver. Next, she wound garlands of ivy through the boughs, letting the berries poke through. Then she tied tiny red ribbon bows onto the end of each branch, loving the colour contrast against the green.

‘Now for the lights, Willow.’ She began to thread the white fairy lights through the tree, spiralling them from top to bottom. When she was happy with their position, she pushed the plug into its socket.

Scooping Willow up, Robyn held her close, smelling the freshly bathed baby smell of her.

‘Moment of truth, bubs,’ she said and flicked the switch.