Author's note: Sorry this took so long, loves! As you might know, I started on another SJT AU. Also RL has been kicking my ass recently. Thank you all for your continued patience and support! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 8

"A little to the left!" Emma shielded her eyes from the winter sun, studiously ignoring the calls from behind her. The few paps that remained snapped away; Emma wondered what the hell could be so fascinating about decorating for Christmas. That said, she was also beginning to wonder if some of the most tenacious paps were secretly spies. Sadly, it wouldn't surprise her.

Liam leaned over the ladder, adjusting the wreath. It smelled of freshly cut pine and cranberries with golden ribbons that would shine in the street lights. Emma picked them out, thinking them perfect for their home. He was willing to trust her judgment; she had an eye for those little details he missed. Unless he was looking at her. He could spend hours just memorizing the lines and curves of her face.

"Stop! That's perfect!"

Liam looked over his shoulder, smiling at the look on her face. "May I get down now?"

She rolled eyes playfully. "Hey, you volunteered, buddy."

I did indeed, Liam thought as he climbed down. Nothing about his life was chance; he chose this life, his family, every single day. Their support the last few days meant the world to him. He hadn't heard anything about his complaint, but he was sure he would on Monday. He tried not to think about what would happen; he was trying to live in the moment. It did no good to worry, not when he had so much life to enjoy.

"Looks fantastic, brother," Killian said, holding the ladder steady. "Well done."

"We'll see," Liam hedged, cautiously optimistic. Last year had been the first real Christmas he and Killian had enjoyed since their mother's passing. And that was due solely to Emma's presence. They kept things lowkey, sensitive to Emma's painful past, but they enjoyed the holiday anyway. That had been the first time Liam truly allowed himself to wonder what a life with her could be like, rather than a few stolen weeks of bliss. He'd been in love with her, even then, he just hadn't realized it yet. It was a little glimpse of what their future could be, a future that—one year later—stretched out in front of them.

Decorating their home for the holidays was a tangible step into that future. They were going all out, decorating not only the outside of their home, but preparing to host a party for their dearest friends. Precious few people stood by them unconditionally since they stepped out into the world as a loving, committed trio. Those people were now family. It was only right to show how much that meant to them.

"We can check the lights when it gets dark," Emma said, wrapping her arm around his waist. Liam tucked her into his side, Killian settling in on Emma's left, arm around her waist. "Anyone think it's cold as hell out here?"

The boys laughed. "Not a fan of the cold, love?" Killian thought she was adorable, her cheeks and nose pink, beanie covering her ears.

"I think we both know I'd much rather be hot than cold."

He smiled, recalling their sexy shower that morning. He loved this time of the month, Emma hornier than usual. They relished giving her everything that she needed. "Perhaps we should take this inside then?"

"In a minute." She turned, grabbing Killian by the lapels of his winter coat. He smiled into her kiss, aware of their observers, but not caring a whit. In fact, a petty corner of his heart hoped the images of them happy would be splashed across the tabloids, right in Clara's face. Would serve her right for what she tried to do to his brother. As if Liam could ever betray the woman he loved. In that the brothers were united, Emma wrapping them around her finger almost effortlessly.

Emma hummed against his lips, loving the possessive way he held her. Not wanting Liam to feel excluded, she left Killian with a sweet parting brush of lips then twisted out of his arms and into Liam's. The elder Jones fused his mouth to hers, holding her flush to his body. Warmth flowed through him, Emma's kiss the only thing that mattered. They shared something the rest of the world could never understand and he refused to waste another moment trying to explain it. This was where he belonged.

Emma tugged lightly on his hair, shorter now than it had been in Paris, but still soft and curly. "Hmm, easy, Captain."

"I believe you kissed me, sweetheart."

"That a complaint?"

"Never." He kissed her hard again, ignoring their audience. "Come, love, I believe we've a tree to decorate."

"That we do." She smiled a brilliant smile. "And maybe a little more?"

Liam grinned back, happiness filling his heart. "Anything you desire, my love."

She stood up on her toes, lips against his ear. "Good, because I desire quite a bit." She grabbed his hand and Killian's. "Come on." Their interlude was interrupted by cleaning up, gathering the spare lights and lowering the ladder; Emma was sure the front of the house would look fantastic once they had the tree up. Despite their most recent drama, she was feeling buoyant. Perhaps it was the season, perhaps it was a strong belief that karma would eventually bite Clara in the ass. Whatever it was, she was happy.

"Oi, Jones! Jones!"

Killian studiously ignored the pap trying to get his attention. He wasn't above using them for their own ends, but he didn't plan on encouraging them. Emma and Liam headed inside while he took the ladder around to the mostly unused back of the house. Now that it was theirs, perhaps they could find a use for it. Another thing to add to his list for the contractors. They planned on interviewing some in the coming week; Killian wanted the work to begin as soon as possible, preferably while the trio was in New York. Staying in a hotel certainly had its perks, but nothing compared to their own bed.

The vacuum was running when he came back inside. Emma stood in the hallway, her hand thrust into the netted tree to hold it steady. "I told him it was fine," she said by way of explanation when she saw her husband. "But you know Liam."

"Tidy to a fault," Killian agreed, moving behind her, hand resting lightly on her waist. Her heavy winter coat was gone, her figure highlighted by the tight jeans and festive red top she wore. "Want me to take it, love?"

"Nah, I got it." She bit her lip as his thumbs slid under her shirt to rub soft circles into her skin. "But I might not if you keep that up."

"Hmm, so needy," he murmured in her ear. The loud appliance made hearing difficult, but he knew she understood him, judging by the way she shivered.

"Not…fair," she mumbled, leaning back against him. "You know I can't help it." She'd always been like this; she simply hadn't had an outlet for her needs before. Not to mention she had been deathly afraid of letting anyone get too close. No, Emma had gotten very well acquainted with her toys before she met the Jones brothers.

"Which is why we must take care of you," he reminded her, kissing the shell of her ear. "No matter what."

"Killian…the tree…"

"You kissed us. Out there. In front of all those people. Did you like that?"

She shivered again. "You know I did."

"My little exhibitionist." He cupped her through her pants; he could feel the heat of her. "I'll bet you're soaking."

She felt like she was going to combust in his arms and he was hardly touching her. She thrust against his hand, moaning as he rubbed her clit just right. "I hate you."

"You love me." He flicked open her pants, his large hand sliding in. She had to spread her legs to give him room, causing her ass to rub against his crotch.

"Oh fuck." She wrenched her eyes open, searching for Liam. His broad back was to them, none the wiser to her need. "Liam," she whined, wetting her dry lips. "Liam!"

His wife's shout caught Liam's attention; for a second he thought she was in pain. Quickly, he shut off the vacuum, turning to face her only to get an eyeful of his beautiful wife wriggling against his brother, Killian's hand in her pants. "Fuck, Emma."

"Please," she whispered, beckoning him with her free hand.

He dropped the handle of the machine and crossed the room in four long strides. Emma mewled as he fused his mouth to hers, sucking greedily on her tongue. "Can't wait?"

"No. I need you both. Right now."

Liam took the tree from her grasp and laid it on the hardwood floor of the hall. They could clean up later. The moment he was upright again, he cradled Emma's face in his hands, kissing her deeply as Killian continued to touch her. Emma fumbled for purchase, wanting nothing more than to be trapped between her boys, skin against skin.

Killian could feel her getting wetter, her arousal coating his fingers. He pushed two inside her cunt, his other hand on her hip to hold her steady. His own arousal was nestled against her ass, her heeled boots placing her at the perfect height. They'd already rearranged the furniture in the living room to make space for the tree in front of the bay window. This would probably be the last time they could have sex in the living room for some time; he planned on enjoying it.

Emma's breathing hitched; she had to break her kiss with Liam to suck in much needed air. "Blinds still closed?"

"Aye." Liam ducked to kiss and nibble at her pulse, his cock swelling painfully in his jeans. Worry about his job aside, he couldn't get over how light he felt. How free. It was almost like he'd been locked away for years and now he could finally be himself, wholly and completely. There was nothing to hold him back. Emma had done that. Her patience and love helped him find the very best version of himself and he loved her so much for it.

"Thank god." She dragged his mouth back to hers, sucking on his lower lip as Killian's fingers pumped in and out of her. "I really need you to fuck me."

"Happily, wife." Liam plucked at the buttons of her blouse, exposing her silk clad breasts. He rubbed her through the fabric, the dual stimulation quickly making her a writhing needy mess. "First, we need to see you come."

Emma shoved at her jeans and panties; she was too hot, damn it. "More. God, touch me."

Liam dropped his hand to where his brother was stroking her, slipping his fingers into the gap, pressing against her swollen clit. Emma gasped, nodding furiously, rutting against them without finesse. She was burning, so desperate to come, to fall into the bliss they never failed to give her. It hit her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath, her walls clamping hard on the thick fingers inside her. She clutched at Liam's arms for support, her knees unable to hold her up, a keening cry on her lips. They rubbed her through it, sending wave after wave of bliss through her until she literally couldn't remain upright. Liam caught her, holding her firmly, marveling at this woman who chose to love them. "God, I love you."

Emma hummed, incoherent, her head falling back against Killian's shoulder. She could still feel him, hard and heavy against her ass; she couldn't wait to feel him inside her. "Damn."

"Merely a teaser, sweetheart," Killian whispered in her ear. He pulled his hand away, offering his fingers to her. She gave them a lazy sexy grin before her tongue darted out to lick her juices from his skin. Trusting them to hold her, she pulled his hand closer, licking and sucking on the digits like some wanton thing, hungry for more.

Both brothers swore, turned on by her obvious need. Killian knelt to strip her boots, socks and pants from her body, pausing only long enough to adjust himself. He needed her badly, but the anticipation was half the fun. He couldn't resist her pert arse, giving her a few teasing smacks. Emma groaned, a fresh wave of lust shooting through her. "Oh yes."

"Hmm, is our wife in need of a good spanking?"

What was it about the words 'wife' and 'spanking' that had her burning? "Please."

Liam slid her blouse down her arms, allowing it to fall to the floor. He grabbed her roughly by the hips, trusting his clad cock against her. "Such a dirty girl, love."

"Only for you." She dragged him down by the shirt, kissing him hungrily. "I think it's time for my husbands to get naked, don't you?"

"Gladly." They moved her to Liam's plush leather chair, gulping as she spread herself for them, leg over each arm of the chair. Liam was forcibly reminded of the photos she and Killian had sent him while he was away. Emma smirked, a hand slowly sliding down her belly, fingers gliding through her glistening folds.

"Let me watch?"

Both brothers nodded their ascent, unable to look away. Emma was glorious in her nudity, every curve perfect, her pale skin faintly pink from her earlier orgasm. Her hand was lazy between her legs, rubbing lightly, just enough to keep her aroused. Killian moved first, reaching back to yank his sweater over his head. Emma wet her lips as his chiseled torso was exposed; she couldn't wait for how the coarse hair would feel against her nipples. He shot her a filthy grin, rolling his hips seductively as he reached for his belt. Emma breathed deeply, her free hand plucking her nipple, teeth sinking into her lip. Fuck, he was hot.

Liam felt the old hesitation creep up his spine but he shook it off. Emma's lust filled jade eyes turned toward him and he breathed deeply. One by one his fingers yanked on the buttons of his shirt, his eyes focused on hers. She gave him a coy encouraging smile, her fingers stroking her clit just a little faster. Losing himself in her desire freed him from the lingering shyness he felt, his hand drifting down to rub his aching cock through the denim of his jeans. Emma moaned softly, her touch more insistent as she watched her boys strip for her. Liam's open shirt hung from his shoulders as he worked his belt, his groan of relief going right to her clit. She canted her hips up, hungry for friction, the ache in her belly growing.

Liam toed off his shoes and shucked his pants, taking himself in hand as she watched. It wasn't nearly enough—he longed for her tight cunt around him—but he could see how much this excited her.

Emma didn't know which way to look; they were so sexy, so hot, so hers. She pushed three fingers inside her hole, needing them as turned on as she was.

Killian groaned, her arousal making his cock twitch in his hand. Annoyed, he kicked his pants away, stepping closer to her. "Hungry, darling?"

She smirked. "Famished." She let her legs down, scooting to the very end of the chair. Removing her hand, she used wet fingers to beckon Liam, who groaned as he obeyed. She made them watch as she licked her own fingers clean, releasing them with a pop. "I'm going to suck your cocks," she announced, hands curling around each thick erection. "Then I'm gonna need that spanking."

"Bloody fuck," Liam swore. He shuddered as her warm tongue licked him from root to tip, pressing his cock against his belly as her hand dropped to fondle his balls. Her other hand wasn't idle, stroking Killian slowly, just the way he liked. She never really realized just how gorgeous an erect cock could be before she met them. She was only interested in how one could get her off. But her boys were stunning in every way. Velvety soft skin over hard steel, long, thick, well shaped. She paid special attention of the throbbing veins, playing with them, tongue teasing. Liam groaned, fighting the urge to grip her hair and shove his cock down her throat. "Such a fucking wicked tongue."

She grinned, giving the sensitive head a quick suck before turning her attention to Killian. He hissed as she took him into her mouth, deeper with each bob of her head. Her tongue rubbed the underside rhythmically, her hand sliding between his legs. "Fuck, fuck." A jolt went through him, her expert touch making him crazy. Instinctively, he spread his legs to give her better access. She didn't disappoint, alternating her touch from his heavy balls to his hole. She didn't make a move to penetrate him, but it felt good all the same. Hopefully, one day soon, she'd fuck him again.

"Emma," Liam whined, cock throbbing, needing her mouth. She released Killian, sucking in a much needed breath, then turned to give Liam the same attention. She loved this, switching back and forth, driving them both insane with want. Liam couldn't help himself, hips rocking gently, her mouth wet and inviting. "Fuck yes."

Emma hummed as she sucked and licked and teased, feeling her core getting wetter. She needed to be touched, to be fucked until she couldn't see straight, but they needed the attention more. Liam, then Killian, then back again; she played with them until they were both trembling. "I wish you knew how hot this is," she murmured, leaving Killian with a parting kiss to the weeping tip.

Killian wanted to forgo the spanking and just fuck her, but he couldn't deny her. "Bend over the chair, lass. Now."

She giggled and obeyed, positioning herself the exact same way she had for the pictures, her ass on display. Anticipation zinged across her skin, her body craving the pleasurable pain. She felt fingers glide between her legs, teasing her. "Please, please," she whimpered softly. "Need it so much."

Liam and Killian shared a look, Killian nodding. Liam raised his hand and brought it down on her ass cheek, hard. The slap left a faint mark on her skin, her pleased moan music to their ears. Killian went next, spanking the other cheek, cock twitching as she cried out. Spanking her with their bare hands wouldn't hurt her as much as the paddle, but it was more intimate. Skin on skin, their handprints imprinted on her body, marking her as theirs. She didn't shy away from the slaps, taking everything they could give her, her body floating. She craved this feeling, the natural high. Arousal slid down her thighs, dripped onto the leather. Her nipples ached, begging to be sucked. It was so erotic, she wanted to weep with joy.

Killian blew cool air over her heated flesh, feeling her tremble. She was so aroused, the tiniest thing would set her off. "She's close."

"Bloody wanton thing," Liam agreed. He slid his hand between her thighs, inching toward her dripping hole. "Together?"

Killian nodded, aligning his hand beside Liam's. Together, they pressed into her, two pair of thick fingers pumping in and out of her slick channel. Emma screamed, coming almost instantly, gripping the top of the chair for support. It was a wild ride, their fingers stretching her, finding her most sensitive places, stroking her into a frenzy. She pressed her hips back, fucking them as much as they were fucking her, dragging out the intense high. "Yes, yes, yes!"

They felt her climax a second time around their fingers, so tight. She would feel incredible around them. Emma rocked until she was spent, panting harshly for air, her body tingling from head to toe. "Shit."

The brothers extracted their hands, pressing loving kisses to her slick back. Emma shuddered, groaning, but she appreciated the gesture. Sure, they did some kinky stuff in bed (or the living room or the kitchen or wherever) but it was all a way to express the deep love they shared. She let Liam carry her to the rug by the fireplace, weakly pulling him down for a kiss. He stretched out beside her, cock hard against her hip, but content merely to kiss. "Give me a couple of minutes, okay?"

Killian was quickly there too, his hand resting on her belly. "No rush, sweet."

She turned her head to kiss him too, tender yet passionate. "I've been wanting you two to fuck me since I watched you lash the tree to our car."

He chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Hey, it's not my fault my husbands are ridiculously hot."

"Now I know you're drunk on sex," Liam teased. He palmed her breast, merely weighing it in his hand, unable to keep from touching her.

"I'm drunk on you," she retorted. "My sexy sailors."

"You are glorious when you come," Killian murmured, kissing her shoulder. Slowly, he moved lower, lips grazing her skin, tracing the curve of her breast. She nodded encouragingly, coaxing Liam to follow suit. Two sets of lips and hands moved over her body, winding her up gradually, worshiping every inch of her. Her ass still stung, but it only heightened her arousal, the sensitive skin rubbing deliciously over the soft fur of the rug.

"Suck my nipples," she begged, arching off the rug. "Please!"

They hastened to heed her, each wrapping their lips around a taut bud. Emma cried out, gripping their hair tightly. The dual suction was incredible, wave after wave of lust seizing her. They both knew what she liked, alternately sucking and lashing with their tongues until she was canting her hips up, the need to be filled overwhelming. "Now! Someone fuck me! Please!"

"Have her, brother," Liam said, his voice raw with need. "But leave some for me."

Killian nodded, already sliding between her splayed thighs. He didn't waste a moment, taking her in a single deep stroke. She was so fucking wet and slick that it was nothing for her to take all his considerable girth, but her soft cry of pleasure made him pause. "Okay, love?"

She nodded hard. "Don't stop." She locked her ankles at the base of his spine, loving the way he felt within her. Hard meeting soft, velvet meeting steel, filling her completely. "Feels good."

He bent to kiss her deeply, undulating his hips. "So tight like this, lass." He could already feel his orgasm tingling at the base of his spine, but he held on, determined to make her come with him. Pumping his hips steadily, he watched her face, the sheer joy he saw there warming his heart. He loved her so much.

Emma gripped her lover's biceps, moving with him, taking him as deeply as she could with every drive of his hips. Some people claimed that size didn't matter, and sometimes it didn't. But with her boys, they were well endowed and knew how to use their gifts. Every thrust had her seeing stars, hitting the perfect spot within her. She pulled him down for a heated kiss, shivering as his chest hair rubbed over her nipples. "Liam's watching us," she whispered, biting on Killian's earlobe. "He's watching you fuck me."

Killian shivered, knowing how much his wife loved an audience. "And you love it," he shot back, punctuating his words with a sharp jerk of his hips. "You love being watched."

"God yes." She recalled vividly those amazing evenings at Cedér, people watching them fuck through the mirror. She needed that again. "So hot."

With a growl, Killian yanked her up, her legs still locked around his hips. He slipped his hands under her ass—the skin there still warm from her spanking—to support her weight. Now she could see Liam clearly, his blues eyes stormy with barely restrained need, need for her. She kissed Killian deeply, her hand snaking between them. "Hurry," she panted between kisses. "So close."

Killian inched his finger closer to the crease of her ass, intent on his prize. His finger pressed in easily, sending her spiraling into another orgasm. Her nails dug into his shoulders painfully, but he would proudly bear her marks. Her clenching walls sparked his own high, his body finally giving in. She felt him pulse within her, hot jets of cum coating her walls, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Liam watched everything with bated breath, Emma utterly beautiful as she climaxed in his brother's arms. They kissed lazily as she came down from her high, Emma whispering, "Love you" in his ear. Killian smiled, lips brushing her brow. "Love you too, my darling."

Once she had her breath back, she reached for Liam. Killian handed her off willingly, utterly content. This was how they were together, Emma sharing every part of herself with them freely. Liam laid her out on the rug, his fingers skimming between her legs. She squirmed, the flesh swollen and sensitive, but she moaned when she saw his intention. Liam's fingers were coated with her and Killian's combined essences, which he brought to her lips. She opened, moaning as she sucked and licked them clean, the salty tang exquisite on her tongue.

"Fuck, that's hot," Liam groaned, cock twitching.

"More," she pleaded, needy for him already. He did as she asked, feeding her until there was nothing left and she was writhing on the rug. "Get in me, Liam. Wanna feel you."

"On your belly, lass." She'd done enough acrobatics for one day. She flipped over, spreading her legs invitingly. Liam settled between them, bending to briefly kiss her pink ass cheeks. "Relax for me."

Emma nodded, resting her head on the soft fur. Liam's lips caressed her spine, soothing her even more. By the time he slid into her, she felt boneless, weak. His cock was like a jolt to her system, her moan tumbling from her lips. "Yes."

"You feel fucking amazing like this, Emma," her lover groaned, arms braced on either side of her. "Tight."

"More," she begged, frustrated by her prone position. "I need all of it!"

He heeded her, hips snapping more firmly into hers, forcing his cock deeper. Her previous orgasms had her slick and warm, gripping him perfectly. "Love my cock, do you, dirty girl? Love when we fuck you like this?"

"Yes!" That was her answer to anything he asked, as long as he kept fucking her. She would never tire of how fantastic this felt, their love adding to the sensations. "Harder!"

He didn't want to hurt her, Killian had already ridden her hard. "Touch yourself, sweetling. Come for me."

Somehow, she managed to snake her hand under her, quickly finding her clit. The angle of his cock was nearly perfect, but she needed just a little something to make her fall apart. Blood rushed in her ears as she climaxed for the last time, her voice too weak to make a sound. She felt Liam follow her, his grunt of pleasure right in her ear, cock pumping her full of his seed. She collapsed almost immediately, exhausted.

Liam quickly rolled off her, not wishing to crush her. He kissed her shoulder tenderly. "Alright, love?"

She hummed weakly, still breathless. "Yeah." She managed to turn her head and smile at him. "See?"

He raised a brow at her, but his smile was warm. "I love you, wife."

"Love you too, husband." She reached for his hand, brushing it with her lips. "But I'd love some water?"

"Anything for you." He moved to stand, snatching up his boxers. Killian was already ahead, strolling into the kitchen. Liam paused long enough to lay a light blanket over her nude form.

"Sorry we were distracted from our purpose, brother," Killian said when he entered the kitchen.

Liam chuckled. "It'll keep. I think we both know Emma's needs come first."

"True." He poured her a tall glass from the purifier, the ice cracking. "We should get her some snacks too."

"Aye." This was what Clara could never understand, Liam mused. This sense of family. Sure, the sex was fantastic. But that was due more to the feelings they shared. Liam loved looking after Emma after sex just as much as he enjoyed the act itself. They were building a life together, day by day, one he planned on sharing with these people for as long as he lived.

By the time they returned, Emma was sitting up and curled into the corner of the couch. "Something smells good."

"We brought those cookies you like," Liam assured her, kneeling with the tray.

"Oh yum!" Instead of the cookies, she grabbed the water, gulping most of it down in one go. "That's better."

Liam set the tray in her lap. "Why don't you relax while Killian and I put the tree up?"

"But I want to help!"

"We won't decorate it without you, I promise." He took a long pull of his own water then kissed her bare knee. "Rest, darling."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine." She grinned mischievously. "Don't get dressed." Even though both brothers laughed, Emma was unashamed. If they were going to do this without her, then she was going to watch and admire. She figured it was her right as a loving wife. She laid back on the sofa, munching on cookies and fruit as Killian brought in the tree. All her life she yearned for a home of her own, a place where she'd never be alone. The loneliness was worst during the holidays, despite her attempts to hide it. She usually took on extra work, allowing others to spend time with their families. But now…there was nowhere else she wanted to be than to be celebrating with those she loved so dearly.

Killian caught her smiling at them as he held the tree steady. Sap was sticking to his fingers, but it was worth it to see her smile. "Care to check our work, wife?"

Emma tilted her head. The tree was a little crooked. Silently, she pointed to the right. Killian deliberately moved the tree too far, just to see her face. She scowled playfully, pointing again silently. He did as she bid, making sure the tree was straight this time.

"Are you two finished?" Liam mumbled from under the tree.

"Sorry," Emma said, blushing. "It's straight now."

"No apology necessary, lass." Liam shot her a grin, then went back to his task of tightening the screws meant to hold the tree. "Remind me why we got a real one again?"

"Because I asked?" She'd dreamed of this since she was a little girl, the fresh scent of pine, a Christmas tree covered in glittering lights and shining tinsel. They already had some ornaments from last year, including a couple from when the boys were small. Emma liked them in all their cheesy handmade glory; they were an important link to her boys' past. To Catherine. She never wanted them to forget her.

Liam grinned at her fondly. "As the lady wishes."

Emma tucked the blanket around her and moved to stand. "I love the smell, you know? I always have."

Killian beckoned her, tucking her into his side. "We'll make this a lovely Christmas, Emma."

"Last year was nice."

"Well, we tried."

She squeezed his waist. "I loved it. It was the first real Christmas I'd ever had."

"This one will be even better, lass. I promise you."

"Well, we are married this time."

"I will never be over how good that sounds, dearest wife."

She smiled, warmth spreading to her toes. "I like it too." She glanced down at Liam, most of his torso concealed by the tree. "How are things down there?"

"Almost got it." He gave each screw one final tug, then slithered out from under it. "Check it now." Killian let go, allowing the tree to stand on its own. "I like it."

Emma moved back toward the couch, to get some perspective. "Good job, guys. It's perfect!"

Liam was so happy to hear her joy that he turned around and picked her up, spinning her around. Emma giggled, her blanket coming loose. "Put me down!" she shrieked.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Liam asked, setting her on her feet, but not letting go. "Am I not allowed to share a joyous moment with my wife?"

"It's just a Christmas tree."

He tenderly cupped her cheek. "Perhaps, but it's more than that. Last year, as much as I wanted it, we were still working our way together. We weren't quite what we are today. It's like a whole new life. One that I can't wait to share with you both as a family."

Tears pricked her eyes; Liam usually wasn't one for grand speeches. But she loved that he felt safe enough to share his feelings with her. "I want that too, Liam." She hugged him tight, sighing happily when Killian pressed up against her back. She couldn't get enough of these three way hugs; they always made her feel loved and safe, like she would never be alone again.

As much as Killian would have enjoyed just holding the woman he loved all evening, they did have a tree to decorate. "Ready, sweetheart?" he murmured in her ear.

"Yeah. Let me put something on." She flushed, only just then remembering she was naked as the day she was born, her blanket on the floor.

"Don't fancy decorating in the nude?"

She glared, smacking his arm. "You're incorrigible."

"You're one to talk, love," Liam pointed out, smothering a grin.

She rolled her eyes and bent to find her underwear and blouse. There wasn't much point in wearing much more than that. "Wait 'til we open these blinds, buddy. We won't be able to go around the house naked for a while."

"Shame, that." Killian eyed her up and down. "I am rather partial to it."

"I doubt any of us want to flash the neighbors. They really would kick us out then."

"Let them try. We own the house."

Emma sauntered up to him and pressed her hands to his chest. "But you know what? This'll force us to get…creative."

"I love creative." He bent down to kiss her swiftly. "You win."

"Always do." She snatched his hand and dragged him closer to the tree. Together, the trio began to unload the boxes, stretching out strands of lights and tinsel to check for burnt bulbs and knots. Emma had bought a couple of extra boxes of colored lights, just in case. If they didn't need them for the tree, she thought she might use them to decorate her office.

Damn, she really was feeling the Christmas spirit.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Liam asked, plugging in the star tree topper. They'd had it since he himself was small; it was a bit battered. "We could always do something else with the tree. Make it themed or something."

Emma shook her head. "I kind of like that it's a hodge podge. Reminds me of us."

He tilted his head. "It does?"

"Well, yeah." She took the topper from his hand and settled on his lap. "We each bring something special, you know? You, Liam, are smart, steady…" She smirked, lip close to his ear. "And sexy as hell." Liam chuckled, stealing a kiss from her lips. "Killian's funny and open, willing to try anything once." She winked at her other husband, who beamed proudly back at her.

"And you, my love," Liam began, entwining their fingers, "light up every room you enter. Looking back, I suppose it's no surprise we fell hard and fast for you."

She carded her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. "I know it's not always been easy, but I promise; there is nowhere I would rather be. We're a family."

"That we are." He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, eyes falling shut as her thumbs stroked his cheekbones. He loved her so much; sometimes it threatened to burst out of his chest.

She licked her lips as they broke apart; she'd survive solely on their kisses if she could. Tugging on his hand, they rose and went to help Killian with the lights. The younger Jones played a Christmas playlist from his phone as they worked, stringing lights and singing along. Emma was surprised at just how great the brothers sounded together; Killian had a sweet tenor voice that spoke to her, while Liam's was deeper but no less beautiful. She loved to sing…in her car. Alone. No one had ever heard her sing, she was too scared. So, she was shocked when both brothers stopped looping tinsel and stared at her.

"What?"

"I didn't know you could sing, love."

Her cheeks instantly got hot. "I didn't…I mean, I don't." She winced, wishing the floor would open under her feet. Had she really let her guard down that much?

"I think that you do." Killian smiled encouragingly. "You sounded beautiful, Emma."

"You're just saying that."

"Have I ever given you a false compliment?"

"How should I know?"

"Emma…"

She twisted her hands together. "Sorry. It's just…I don't sing in front of people. Ever." Not since some mean girl in one of her group homes made fun of her for trying to record herself singing. From then on, she kept it to herself.

"We're not just people," Liam said gently. "But we're sorry if we embarrassed you, love."

That just made her feel worse. If she was safe with anyone, she was safe with them. "No, I'm sorry I snapped." She offered them a wobbly grin. "I was just so happy that I forgot that I don't need to hide with you guys. When I was a kid, this girl…"

"You don't need to explain, lass," Killian cut in, thumb sliding over her cheek. "You don't have to explain a blessed thing."

"It's okay." Thanks to them she truly was beginning to come to terms with her past and not allowing it to define her future. She might not be all the way there yet, but that was okay too. "Do you really think it was good?"

Killian nodded fervently. "I truly do."

Her cheeks burned but a pleased smile formed on her lips. "Thanks."

He let his lips skim her brow. "Perhaps some more carols while we decorate then?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. While Killian got the music ready, she hugged Liam. "You've heard me sing," she reminded him. "I want to hear you play." She'd gotten him a new guitar as a wedding gift when they were in Paris; he had yet to truly play for her. Given that he was some years out of practice, she didn't want to push him.

"I haven't had much time to practice lately, but perhaps I'll have more time during the holidays."

"No rush." She kissed his cheek. "Just don't forget."

"I won't." Killian found a station streaming nothing but Christmas music, which kept them entertained while they decorated. The tree itself was seven feet tall; the star on top had just enough clearance once Liam got it up there. They hung the homemade ornaments first, including the ceramic painted ones Catherine had gotten for each of her sons' first Christmases. Emma felt a tiny pang; she had nothing similar. However, she underestimated the thoughtfulness of the Jones brothers.

"Love, can you grab that little white box?"

She reached for a box that she never recalled toting down from the attic. "What's this?"

"Open it and see."

The box was filled with green tissue paper; there was something delicate nestled inside it. As she picked it up, tears welled in her eyes. "Where did you even get this?" It was a glass ball, hand painted, with Emma Swan-Jones scrawled in artful script. A swan lay emblazoned on one side of her name and a Royal Navy anchor on the other, along with the date, 2015.

"We wanted you to have one all your own," Liam murmured, slipping his arms around her waist from behind.

"It's beautiful." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, a lump caught in her throat.

"Care to do the honors, Mrs. Jones?"

She smiled at Killian, forever grateful that they chose her, that they loved her enough to be patient and loving and wonderful. "Sure." She stepped out of Liam's arms and hung the ball on the tree, not far from their ornaments.

"Quite a difference from last year, eh?" Liam chuckled, kissing her cheek.

It felt like a different lifetime. Had there truly been a moment where she doubted their feelings for her? Where she was so afraid to fall herself? She knew there was, but she'd changed so much since then. Now she was a wife. She had a new job, a home of her own, friends. She had a family, a place where she belonged.

Abruptly, she turned, capturing Liam's lips in a searing kiss. He let out a little cry of surprise, letting her have her way until she broke it off to give Killian a taste of her. "Thank you," she said fervently.

"This is only the beginning of the presents, love." Killian grabbed her hand and spun her around to the music. "It's going to be a very happy Christmas."


Clara rubbed her temples, desperately attempting to will away her migraine. At least that's what she told herself. It was more dignified than a hangover.

Three days. Three days since the debacle in Liam's office. Since he'd cruelly rejected her. She wanted to be angry, furious really, but the emotion would not come. The moment she exited the building and climbed into a hastily summoned cab, all she felt was mortification. Christ, if anyone ever found out she'd stooped so low…what the hell had she been thinking?

She crawled into a bottle of wine the second she stepped into her flat and had not climbed out since. It was Monday, she was supposed to go to work, but she could hardly stand. Light made her head throb and noise was worse. If she could just stay in her cool dark room for twenty-four hours, she might be able to scrounge up some of her dignity.

It was that woman. Emma. Clara hated her like she'd never hated anyone. What about her was so enthralling? She didn't understand. She was so…anti Liam's type; it made no sense. The idea of her precious Liam throwing away his career out of his misguided feelings for his whore made her want to throw up again.

How had this happened?

She needed to sleep, to get away from the images seared into her eyelids, but it wouldn't come. She didn't dare take a sleeping pill due to the alcohol that still lingered in her system. She was upset; she wasn't suicidal. What she needed was some rest. Some peace and quiet where she could think. There was still a way to salvage this. She still had the photos. Liam didn't believe she'd use them, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

If they could put enough pressure on the trio, they would crack. She was certain of it. Liam might be strong, but the younger one was weak. He always had been, getting into one scrape after another, seeking his brother's attention. She heard he'd gotten a job in naval intelligence; one whiff of scandal and he would be on the street, disgraced. Sure, it would hurt Liam in the short term, but given time, he would see that she'd done it for his own good.

She just needed her head to stop throbbing.

Clara must have dozed off eventually; her whole body jerked awake at a pounding noise. She groaned piteously, a wave of nausea gripping her as her head swam. Who could possibly want her at this hour? She'd called in to let her commanding officer know she needed some emergency leave; it was winter and no one wanted the flu. He'd accepted her excuse easily enough, the sod. One day she'd have his job anyway.

Perhaps if she stayed in bed whoever it was would go away.

"I know you're in here! Are you gonna come out or do I have to drag you?"

Clara groaned again, throwing her arm over her eyes. The last person she wanted to see was Nottingham. "Get out, asshole!"

"You kiss your father with that mouth?" The bedroom door opened and a very irritated yet smug Nottingham stepped through it. "I may have to wash your mouth out with soap."

She shielded her eyes from the light. "I said: Get. Out."

"Well, I would, darling, but it seems you've got us into a bit of a pickle."

Cold dread trickled down her spine. Without moving she said, "what do you mean?"

He didn't smile. All that greeted her was a cold sneer. "Oh, I think you know, love. Tell me, did you go full on dominatrix or did you chicken out at the last minute?"

Shit, shit, shit. If Nottingham knew…it was humiliating, but she had to stall. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Deception isn't flattering on you, lass. Not that much is, but you're still soft in all the right places."

"You're a pig."

"And you were desperate. Or have you finally gone mad?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

Nottingham sat on her bed; she recoiled instinctively. "Word has it Jones left his cushy office early on Friday. In a right state too. Now I find you here…" He sniffed. "Jesus, how much did you drink?"

"Not enough."

Her partner laughed. "Clearly." He was still angry, but she was so pathetic. Hair limp and lifeless, skin sallow aside from the angry red splotches on her cheeks, body defeated. He tried to conjure an image of her in leather and heels and he had to bite his cheek so he didn't laugh. Still, he'd have to teach her a lesson.

"Why are you here?" she sighed in exasperation.

"No one's called you? No, I expect not. At least not yet. I imagine dear old daddy will be along before the day is out."

"Do you get off on being a cryptic asshole?"

"No, but that can be arranged. You could use a good fucking, I think."

"Don't touch me."

"They say sex can do wonders for a throbbing head, lass. Sends all that blood somewhere…else."

She suppressed a shiver. Despite the animosity between them, some dark part of her craved the things he did to her. God, she was sick. Angry at herself, Clara forced herself up into a sitting position. "Just what do you think I've done?"

"I think you marched into Jones' office in some ridiculous outfit and tried to seduce him. Rather clumsy, don't you think? Incidentally, it's also sexual harassment of the highest order."

Clara's eyes flew wide. "What? You can't think…no, I didn't…" She fumbled for words. "That's not what happened!"

"You were seen, woman! Even worse, you were loud. Did you really believe the ponce wouldn't turn you in?"

"Liam would never do that!"

Nottingham scowled. "I have it on good authority that he did. It's a good thing you called in today; they won't need to arrest you in front of your coworkers. That would be tragic."

She was going to throw up again. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. "This is her! It's all her fault! She coerced him!"

Nottingham laughed cruelly. "Coerced him to what? He might be a slave to her considerable charms, but I've never taken him for a fool. This was all you, lass."

"She's nothing but whore."

"Aye, but I'll bet she's good. As much as I hate her, I'd fuck her for sure."

"You disgust me." First Liam, now Nottingham? Not that she gave a fuck what he thought.

Nottingham touched her bare knee. "We both know that's not true." He'd come here to break off their alliance; Clara was poison now, disgraced. In a matter of hours, she'd be embroiled in mess of her own making. He could still get clear, find his revenge in his own way. That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun first.

Clara's breathing hitched, her body reacting to his touch. She hated it. She hated what he brought out in her; she didn't know how to make it stop. Nottingham was beneath her, a truly repugnant human being, and yet she…lusted after him. Each time they had sex was more humiliating than the last and yet… "Go. Away." Her protest was weak, feeble; god, her head hurt.

Nottingham inched closer, sensing blood in the water, as it were. "No."

"You…haven't you said your peace? What do you want me to say, damn it?!"

He didn't miss the way her pupils dilated as his fingers danced on her inner thigh. She was dressed in nothing but a ratty naval academy t-shirt and shorts, pale skin on display. How much fun would it be to fuck her, remind her that she couldn't have her precious Liam? "Admit it," he said softly. "Admit that Little Miss Perfect utterly fucked up."

Clara swallowed; his voice may have been soft but there was a hardness, an edge that made her core ache with want. Christ, what was wrong with her?

Nottingham took his hand away long enough to shrug out of his jacket. Then he moved to the center of her bed, kneeling as he unbuckled his pants. "It's time someone taught you a lesson, love. Now come."

Without even thinking, she started to obey. "I hate you."

He might want to humiliate her, but he didn't want her coming back at him and saying he forced her. "And yet you're not pushing me away. You need this."

"No, I don't." She glared at him, hatred in her eyes.

He reached between her legs, where he discovered two important things. First, she didn't swat him away. Second, she was wet. "Your cunt says otherwise." He wasn't gentle, exploring her roughly through the fabric. It was immensely gratifying when she moaned aloud. "Now why don't you take your punishment like a good little girl?"

"Fuck you." It still didn't stop her from grabbing him by the shirt and fusing her lips to his. He wrenched control of the kiss back from her easily, tongue in her mouth, teeth nipping at her lips. She reached for his cock, pumping him hard with eager fingers. Her throbbing head and hangover were forgotten; all she could feel were his hands on her.

Just as quickly as she kissed him, Nottingham grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face toward his cock. "Suck. Now." She'd never blown him; their trysts were usually quick and dirty, mostly clothed. He had yet to get her fully naked. Her pride probably prevented her from doing down on a bloke, but he was determined to break her.

Cheeks burning with humiliation, she did as he bid. Her treacherous body craved his cock, the filthy way he spoke to her. If she was already disgraced, then what did one more degradation matter? Clumsily, she took his considerable length into her mouth, embarrassed because she had no idea what to do.

Well, he wanted this to be somewhat good for him, so Nottingham guided her, holding her dark hair back so he could see his cock slide past her lips. "Use your tongue," he grunted, rocking his hips. "Never sucked a cock before, Clara? Can't say I'm surprised." He jerked, her tongue finding a sensitive spot purely by accident. "It's a wonder Jones held on as long as he did. I guarantee you, she sucks his cock." He moaned, recalling the blonde's lush lips. "He fucking loves it, I'll bet."

Clara whined, not wanting to hear about that woman, but Nottingham was relentless. She was starting to get lightheaded from lack of air; it was so hard to breathe with his cock in her mouth. Even worse was her body's reaction. She was wet and getting wetter, turned on by his filth.

Then, just as quickly as it began, it ended. Nottingham yanked her off him, shoving her to the mattress. She gulped down air, her lungs burning, a shiver racing up her spine as he grabbed her shorts and pulled them swiftly off her legs. "Look how wet you are," he said with a sneer. "You're getting off on this."

She glared at him, shamed but still desperate for his cock. "Shut up and fuck me."

"I don't think I will. Not yet." He snatched her hand and pulled her up, forcing her to face the wall. He took his own belt and secured her wrists to the headboard.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you what you deserve." Not much about her was attractive but he did admit she had a nice ass. And he promptly showed his appreciation by smacking her ass cheek rather hard. Clara yelped, shocked, and tried to scoot away. Her bound wrists made that difficult.

He smacked her again. "This is your punishment, lass. Do yourself a favor and take it."

She continued to struggle, whimpering, but it wasn't long before she felt something other than pain. It hurt, yes, but her clit swelled and throbbed, wetness began to coat her thighs. I am so sick, she thought, unconsciously leaning toward the wall. She lost track of how many times he spanked her, but it felt amazing. Her nipples were stiff under her shirt, rubbing against the fabric, sending sparks down her spine. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted, nails digging into her skin.

"Now who's the filthy whore, love," he hissed in her ear. He shoved his hand between her legs, fingers sinking into her dripping heat. "You act all high and mighty, but you're nothing more than a submissive little slut. Now say it."

She whimpered, trying to grind on his hand. She was wound so tightly; she didn't care what she had to do to get off. "Fuck me. Just fuck me!"

He took his hand away abruptly, yanking hard on her hair. "Admit you did wrong, Clara. Apologize for ruining all our carefully laid plans."

She could feel his cock against her stinging ass, so close, yet so far. Her lip trembled, she struggled, but in the end, she gave in. She was so, so weak. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "Christ, I'm so sorry!"

With a growl, Nottingham grabbed her by the hips and shoved forward. She was so wet that she took him in one slick stroke. She screamed, but in pleasure, holding on to the headboard as he fucked her hard and fast. Her first orgasm slammed into her, making her shudder from head to toe. But Nottingham was relentless, slowing only long enough to free her hands. He ripped her shirt as he yanked it over her head, eager to feel her breasts. Clara actually leaned back against him as he fucked her, fingers rough on her nipples, taking everything he could give her.

It was such a pity this would be the last time. Given time, she could be great in the sack. But he had other plans.

She cried out in complaint when he abruptly pulled out of her, only to find herself on her hands and knees, legs spread wide. Her sigh of relief as he filled her again quickly melted into a desperate moan, pain blooming in her scalp from where he had her by the hair. It was dirty and raw and she did not care.

"Fuck, I'm gonna miss this cunt," he mumbled, pumping his hips steadily. "You might not be much to look at, but you feel good around me. Christ."

She was vaguely aware of him speaking, but she wouldn't believe it even if she was capable of higher brain function. She swore off this thing between them more times than she could count and yet here they were again, fucking each other raw. She fisted the sheet, hungry for more. "Nottingham…I need…don't stop!"

He did so love to hear her beg for him. Fingers found her clit, flicking the swollen wet nub. "Hmm, such a naughty girl." Her arms gave out as she climaxed a second time, muscles squeezing him, causing his rhythm to falter. He only lasted a few more seconds, his own climax bursting like a dam, cock pulsing deep inside her.

Clara's next conscious memory was Nottingham dressing. She rolled over, groaning softly. "Nottingham?"

She looked wrung out and sated; he swelled with pride. He did enjoy the sex. Shame he despised his partner so much. And now she was a liability. He had to cut her loose before she dragged him down with her. "Goodbye, Clara."

She blinked, confused. "You don't mean that. We're partners!"

"Correction, we were partners. You don't know the storm you've brought down on your head with this, lass. Best if I jump ship now. I will not be robbed of my revenge."

That made her angry. "Who gives a shit what you want?!"

"And that, my dear, is exactly your problem. You self-centered, high minded bitch! You are so blinded by your obsession that you've nearly destroyed everything I've built! I won't let you take me down with you. I just wanted to tell you that in person."

She looked down at her nakedness, the shameful way she'd allowed him to use her. "I will find a way to destroy you, you bastard."

"You can try, love. But only if you manage to stay out of the brig." With a brittle smirk, he shrugged on his jacket and left.

Clara sat there, stunned. She couldn't believe any of this. How had things gone so wrong? Surely, she wouldn't be brought up on charges! How absurd! Even if Liam did report what happened, it was her word against his. She, the daughter of a very respected officer, versus a man wrapped up in the greatest scandal to hit the Royal Navy in over two hundred years! Abruptly, she laughed. Laughed and couldn't stop. How utterly ridiculous! To think that her career could be derailed by one bad Halloween costume! Just what did Nottingham think he was playing at?

Strangely, she felt better. Her headache was gone (no, she wasn't going to ascribe that to the humiliating sex); she felt more like herself than she had in weeks. If Nottingham wanted to kick her to the curb, she would make sure he regretted it. Flushed with purpose, she crawled from the bed and into her bathroom. A nice long bath was exactly what she needed.

She was still soaking when she heard another knock on her door. That didn't take long, she thought smugly, hastily climbing out and toweling off. In the bedroom, she snatched up a new shirt and shorts and yanked them on. "Just a minute!" She dashed toward the door, wondering if Nottingham had finally learned some manners. It seemed unlikely, but she lived in hope. She opened the door prepared to give him a good tongue lashing. "Oh. Dad. Hi."

The elder McDougal looked grave. "Hello, Clara."

"What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps it would be best if I came inside."

She stepped out of the way, utterly perplexed. "You never check on me when I'm sick."

George McDougal looked askance at his only child. "Deception is never a good look, child."

Clara curled up her favorite chair. "I don't know what you mean." She tried to cough, but it came out more like a wheeze.

George's face hardened. "Stop this. Right now, young lady." Clara blushed to the roots of her hair, straightening up. Her father rarely spoke to her that way. He indulged her whims; she knew just what buttons to push. She was getting the feeling the usual tricks wouldn't work this time. George sat on the edge of her couch, back ramrod straight. "I received a very disturbing call from Admiral Morgan today, Clara. Do you have any idea what it was about?"

"No," she replied honestly. The Admiral was one of her father's closest friends; he was Clara's own godfather.

"Clara, for once in your life, will you take something seriously?!"

She gaped, taken aback by her father's outburst. "What aren't I taking seriously, Dad? I have no idea what Uncle Paul called you about! That's the truth!"

George sobered. "I must admit, his accusation is hard to believe. But so is the rumor of an…incident between you and that Jones fellow. I thought you were past this…obsession."

Obsession. Nottingham had called it an obsession too. Her irritation must have shown on her face, because her father sighed sadly and rubbed his balding head. "Bloody hell, Clara, what have you gotten yourself into?"

She jumped up, annoyed. "Why won't you just tell me what you think you know? I want to hear these rumors!"

"Clara, this isn't the time for games. I'm trying to protect you!"

"I don't need your protection, sir!" she snapped. "I am an officer in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, same as you! And I want to know what people are accusing me of!"

"Stalking, for one." George stood, furious that she was still trying to play the victim. He'd coddled her for too long and now there was nothing he could do to stop the whirlwind coming for her. "Paul tells me you have compromising photos. I need them."

That stopped her in her tracks. How did he know? How did her godfather know? "What?"

"Don't play dumb, girl. The photos from Cedér. They need to be destroyed."

Christ, she was going to be sick again. "You know about that place?"

"I've never indulged, but yes. Now give them to me."

"But why?"

"Because discretion is the better part of valor."

The only explanation was that the existence of the club could be compromising to someone higher up the chain of command than her father. If she went public…did she really care at this point? Everything she held dear seemed to be crashing down around her. Her father didn't wait for her; he merely moved about the flat, searching. He found the manila envelope in her briefcase. "Is this all of them? Negatives? Digital?"

Mutely, Clara nodded. Her own father was turning on her.

George slipped the envelope into his coat. Paternal affection made him hesitate, but if what he heard was true, not even he could protect Clara from what was coming. She'd well and truly gotten herself into a mess. "No matter what…I do love you, Clara."

She turned, fury all over her face. "Get out."

He did as she bid. The moment he was out on the street, he dialed a number Paul had given him. A softly accented French voice answered. "It's done."