Free Letters at Christmas by Amber Lin

mouth and inviting her to do the same. The friction of his tongue against hers made her hips rock up.
    He gasped a laugh and pulled away. “Have another one, do you?”
    She wasn’t sure what he meant—he couldn’t mean—but then he did. He slid two fingers into her wet channel, deep, until he found a certain place. She sobbed softly, and he took the sounds into his mouth, sealing his lips to hers. He made quick work of her pleasure, pushing her unerringly to a peak, where she shattered into a thousand snowflakes, falling, drifting to the ground.
    He scooped her limp body close beneath the covers, holding her while she shivered. In their embrace she found the irresistible mingling of her old friend and the dashing stranger who’d returned. He had been around the world, but she’d found the man she’d been watching for through her window.
    A familiar tune teased her ear, whistling and faint, wind slipping between the glass panes and wooden sash box. O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy. The comfort of their original friendship, and the joy of their future together, husband and wife.
    “Sleep now,” he murmured, “and I’ll stay with you ’til morning. I’ll stay with you every night after that, ’til every morning.”
    And he did, waking her in the small hours, taking her over and over again, eager and demanding even when he’d already won her.
    The wedding was attended by all the townspeople of Colne who had watched Sidony grow to womanhood. Seeing their smiles over her happiness, she realized she’d had friends all along, many more than she’d known.
    A man who looked better suited to the deck of a pirate’s ship arrived by saddle to stand up for Hale. Two other tanned, rough-looking gentlemen came down from London and sat in the back of the church on the groom’s side. Business partners, Hale told her.
    But oddly, neither the colorful guests nor the rushed preparation for the wedding seemed to stir up scandal in a town usually desperate for gossip.
    “We always knew you two would marry,” the vicar’s wife said simply.
    Sidony had known it, too, deep in her heart where it mattered most; she’d always been waiting for him. Even when things had looked hopeless, even when, year after year, no letter had arrived, she would sigh and look up at the stars and imagine he was looking there, too, thinking of her. All she’d needed was a little faith.
    And, well, the cat had helped.
    True to his word, Hale never left her. He continued to wake her with kisses each morning, in their townhouse in London or traveling the world. He continued to hold her each night, over their years of happiness, writing new letters with his tongue, whispering his words of love and hope in the dark. She returned his passion with equal fervor, finding adventure just where she’d always wanted to—in the strong, tender arms of the man she loved.