The bar was heaving, a glittering crush of bodies in evening wear, all trying to squeeze in as many drinks as they could before midnight. Liam Hartwell stood against a pillar near the back, beer in hand, watching the chaos with the expression of a man who’d rather be literally anywhere else.
Three months. Three bloody months in London on this godforsaken consulting contract, and here he was, spending New Year’s Eve surrounded by strangers, whilst his mates back in Boston were probably at Tommy’s having some actual fun. It had been a mistake, he decided, to try to celebrate New Year’s on his own on the other side of the world; without friends here, the lively bar held no real interest.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the wool of his suit jacket strain across his back. At six foot four and built like he still played college football, Liam had never quite mastered the art of looking comfortable in formal wear.
He was contemplating a strategic retreat to his suite when the crowd surged, and suddenly there was a woman stumbling backwards into his space, her red hair spraying outwards like a Catherine wheel.
She spun round, and Liam found himself looking down. Way down. She was tiny, maybe five-two in heels, with fiery red hair that fell in loose waves past her shoulders and a gold sequined dress that barely qualified as clothing. When she tilted her head back to meet his eyes, her face broke into a grin that was pure mischief.
“Bit crowded, innit?” She didn’t move away from him. Instead, she seemed to appraise him with dark eyes that were far too knowing. “You look absolutely thrilled to be here.”
“That obvious?”
“You’re radiating ‘fuck this’ energy from across the room. I’m Chloe.” She offered her hand.
“Liam.” Her hand disappeared in his. “And yeah, not really my scene.”
“American?” She said it like an accusation.
“Guilty. Boston.”
“Ah, a grumpy Yank. That explains it.” She gestured to the bartender, who materialised instantly. Must be nice being small and pretty, Liam thought. “What’re you drinking?”
“Budweiser.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Boring. Get him a proper drink, would you, Marcus? Something that doesn’t taste like disappointment.”
The bartender grinned as Chloe turned back to Liam, having to stand on her tiptoes even in heels to be heard over the noise. Her perfume hit him, something vanilla and floral that was entirely too innocent for the way she was looking at him.
“So what brings a grumpy giant to London on New Year’s Eve?” she asked.
“Work. Contract ends in February, thank God.”
“Thank God?” she teased. “Why? When you leave, you’ll have to go back to America,” she said, the last word with an exaggerated expression of horror, even throwing in a little shudder.
“Yeah, how will I cope without the constant rain and tiny tasteless portions of food?”
“That’s different. That’s tradition.” She accepted two drinks from the bartender, pressing one into Liam’s hand. Their fingers brushed, lingered. “Try this.”
He did. It was some kind of whisky, smoky and complex and probably cost a fortune. “Not bad.”
“High praise from the Yank.” She sipped her own drink, some sort of champagne cocktail, and studied him over the rim. “You always this charming?”
“Only on special occasions.”
“Lucky me, then.”
The banter flowed easier than Liam expected. She was sharp as hell, giving as good as she got, teasing him mercilessly when he made some crack about her needing a step ladder to talk to him. At one point, she had to lean in close to whisper something about the couple arguing near the bar, and Liam had to bend down so far his back protested. The brush of her lips near his ear sent heat straight through him.
By eleven-thirty, they’d migrated to a slightly quieter corner, though “quieter” was relative. The bar was absolutely rammed now, people jostling for position near the windows to watch the fireworks.
“You know,” Chloe said, her eyes sparkling with something that definitely wasn’t just champagne, “for someone who hates crowds, you’re handling this remarkably well.”
“Got a good distraction.”
“Oh?” She bit her lower lip, and Liam’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Is that what I am?”
Before Liam could answer, some drunk arsehole in a too-tight shirt stumbled backwards, slamming into Chloe hard enough to send her drink flying. Liam reacted on instinct, his arm snaking round her waist and hauling her back against his chest. “Steady,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to her shoulder.
She tilted her head back, her hair brushing his throat, and looked up at him. From this angle, with her pressed against him, he could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her neck and feel the matching flutter in her chest.
“I have a suite upstairs,” Liam heard himself say, his voice rough. “Penthouse, if, er, you want a private view of the fireworks.”
Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. She turned in his arms, having to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. “Lead the way, skyscraper.”
The lift was waiting, mercifully empty. The moment the doors slid shut, he pressed the button for the top floor as Chloe turned to face him.
“So,” she said, stepping closer. “Penthouse suite. Very fancy.”
“The company’s paying,” Liam managed, hyperaware of how small the space was and how close she stood.
“Lucky you.” She reached up, her fingers grazing his jaw. Even on tiptoes, she couldn’t quite reach his mouth. “This is ridiculous. Get down here.”
Liam bent down, and the moment his lips met hers, something ignited. Her mouth was soft and demanding all at once, her tongue sliding against his as she grabbed his shirt. He groaned, his hands finding her waist, and pulled her flush against him.
“Fuck,” she breathed against his mouth. “You’re enormous everywhere, aren’t you?” she was pressing hard against him; he was sure she could feel everything.
“Problem?” he growled.
“God, no.” Her hands slid down his chest, over his abdomen, lower. When her fingers found the bulge straining against his trousers, Liam’s hips jerked involuntarily. She stroked him through the fabric, exploring. “Christ, Liam…”
He responded in kind as he reached lower, gripping her arse through that ridiculously thin dress. The heat of her seeped through the fabric, and when he squeezed, she gasped into his mouth.
“Thought you lot were supposed to be proper,” he said roughly.
“Fuck proper.” She was working at his belt now, her nimble fingers making quick work of the buckle despite the awkward angle.
The lift chimed. This wasn’t his floor.
They sprang apart just as a couple got on, both of them trying to look casual despite Liam’s half-undone belt and Chloe’s smeared lipstick. The couple, already well into their champagne, didn’t seem to notice. They got off three floors later, and the moment the doors closed again, Chloe was on him.
Actually on him as she jumped, and Liam caught her automatically, his hands cupping her arse as her legs wrapped round his waist. The position pressed her crotch right against him, and he groaned into her mouth. He could feel how ready she was through his trousers and feel the dampness seeping through the thin lace of her knickers.
“Better,” she panted, finally eye-level with him. Her hands were in his hair now, tugging, whilst she ground against him shamelessly. “Much better.”
His hand slid up her thigh, pushing the sequined fabric higher until his fingers met bare skin and then lace. She was burning through the thin material, and when he pressed against her, she moaned loud enough to echo in the small space.
He slipped his fingers under the lace. Her cunt was slick and hot, swollen under his touch. When he found her clit and rubbed, her whole body shuddered in his arms, clenching around nothing.
“Oh god,” she whimpered. “Liam, please…”
He slid two fingers inside; it was ridiculously easy, she was so wet, and the way she gripped him made him moan. He pumped them slowly, feeling her stretch, curling them to find that spot that made her keen.
“Fuck, fuck,” she chanted, her hips rocking against his hand. “Don’t stop. Please don’t…”
The lift chimed again. Penthouse floor.
“Shit,” he swore, withdrawing his fingers. She made a sound of protest, but he was already carrying her out into the corridor, both of them breathing hard.
Outside the suite door, Liam pressed her back against the wall, his body caging hers in completely. The mirror beside them reflected the image: his frame dwarfing her, her legs wrapped tight round his waist, her gold dress rucked up round her hips.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whimpered against his mouth. “God I want to fuck you so fucking bad.”
“Keycard,” he managed, his brain struggling to function.
“Don’t care. Break the fucking door down.”
He laughed despite himself but managed to shift her weight to one arm whilst he fumbled in his pocket. The keycard clattered to the floor, and he had to bend down to grab it while she continued to cling to him, grinding herself against him. He finally got it in the slot, his hands shaking with need.
Finally, finally, the lock clicked and the door swung open. He carried her inside, kicking it shut behind them with his foot, and she was already reaching between them, her nimble fingers working at his zip.
“Wait,” he started, but then her hand was inside his trousers, wrapping round his bare cock, and his brain short-circuited. She pulled him free, and his cock sprang out, rock hard and swollen, the head already glistening. She stroked him, her small hand barely able to wrap round his girth, and they both groaned. “Bloody hell,” she breathed. “You could hurt someone with that thing.”
“We can go slow,” he offered, though his control was hanging by a thread.
“No.” She pulled her knickers aside with her free hand, positioning herself over him. She used her grip on his shoulders to guide him backwards. Liam’s back hit the wall beside the door, and before he could process what was happening, she was sinking down onto his cock.
The sensation was overwhelming. She was impossibly tight, gripping him like a fist, her slick heat enveloping him inch by inch. But she was wet enough that despite how snug she was, he slid in smoothly. “Oh my god,” Chloe gasped, her head falling back as she took him deeper. “Oh fuck, Liam…” She sank down another inch, then another, working herself on him. “Oh god…” With one more downward push, she seated herself fully, taking every inch of his cock inside her.
They both cried out, the sound echoing in the suite. Liam could feel her everywhere, gripping him, pulsing round him, so hot and wet and perfect it was almost painful. His bare cock was buried completely inside her, no barriers, and he could feel every twitch, every flutter. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “God, yes.” She started to move, and it was the hottest thing Liam had ever experienced. Somehow, even with him holding her up, even though she was less than half his size, she had him pressed against the wall and was taking full control. He had to just take it as she rode his cock. She rose up until just the head remained inside, then dropped back down hard, impaling herself. Again. And again. Building a rhythm that was frantic and desperate.
“Yes, yes, fuck,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. “God, you feel so good.”
His hands gripped her arse harder, helping lift her; every time she rose up, her inner walls dragged along his shaft, gripping and releasing. Every time she dropped down, he filled her completely, feeling her stretch to accommodate him. “Chloe,” he groaned. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”
She rode him hard and fast, and Liam could feel sweat starting to bead on his skin from the effort of holding her up, holding himself back. His thighs were burning, his arms shaking, but he didn’t care. The sight of her, the feel of her round his cock, was worth any amount of exhaustion.
Her small breasts bounced with each movement, the gold dress shifted up round her waist, and he couldn’t resist leaning down to capture one nipple through the thin fabric. The moan she let out was pornographic. “Fuck, yes,” she cried. “Oh god, Liam, yes! Suck my fucking nipple! Yes. Just like that!”
He sucked hard through the sequins, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud, and felt her cunt clench round his bare cock in response. She was getting wetter, slicker, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down to his balls.
“Need more,” she gasped. “Need… the bed. Take me to the bed.”
Liam pushed off from the wall, his cock still buried inside her, and started walking across the suite. With each step, she bounced on him, gasping and whimpering, her arms locked round his neck. He took deliberate steps, making her ride him with each movement, watching her face contort with pleasure. Her cunt was gripping him so tight he could barely think, and the sensation of her bare walls fluttering round him was almost enough to make him cum right there.
But he made it to the bed, and reluctantly, he had to set her down. She slid off his cock with a wet sound that made them both groan and immediately started stripping.
The gold dress hit the floor, followed by her knickers, and Liam’s mouth went dry. She was completely naked now, and her body was incredible. Petite but toned, with visible abs that flexed as she moved, perky breasts topped with tight pink nipples, and hips that flared just enough. Her cunt was pink and swollen, glistening with arousal, her lips parted and begging to be filled again. She looked like a dancer, all lean muscle and feminine curves.
“Your turn,” she said, her eyes hungry. He realised he’d just been staring and hadn’t even thought to strip himself. He shrugged off his jacket, yanked at his tie, and started on the buttons of his shirt. But his fingers were clumsy, and Chloe grew impatient. She batted his hands away and finished the job herself, pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Her hands explored his chest and his abs, tracing the lines of muscle.
“Bloody hell,” she murmured. “You’re built like a brick shithouse.”
“Is that a compliment?” It didn’t sound like one, but the way she said it certainly made it seem so.
“Very much so.” She pushed at his chest, and he let her guide him backwards onto the bed. “Lie down.” It was clear she still wanted to be in control of this, and if this manic little firecracker wanted that, then he was sure as hell not going to stop her.
He settled back against the pillows and watched as she climbed over him. She straddled his hips, rising up on her knees, and reached down to grip his cock. It was still rock hard and slick with her arousal.
“Oh fuck,” she whimpered as she sank down and took him to the hilt. “So deep.”
From this angle, the visual was incredible. Her body perched on his much larger frame, her thighs bracketing his hips. He could see his cock stretching her pink cunt, see how completely she took him, and see her bare skin flushed with arousal.
She started to move, and it was utterly beautiful. She rose and fell in a fluid, undulating motion that was hypnotic to watch. Her spine curved, her head tilted back, her red hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her breasts swayed with each movement, her abs flexing and releasing, every muscle in her body working in perfect harmony.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” Liam groaned, his hands finding her hips.
“It… it feels so good,” she gasped as she set a steady rhythm. His hands roamed over her body as she rode him, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, and sliding down to grip her hips and help guide her movements. She was tireless, her stamina seemingly endless, her body moving with the grace of someone who knew exactly how to use it.
Her hair became wilder with each movement, a fiery halo round her head, whipping back and forth as she rolled her body faster. Sweat gleamed on her skin, highlighting the definition of her muscles, and her face was flushed with exertion and pleasure. She was panting now, her breath coming in short gasps, and he could feel her starting to tighten round him.
“Yes. Fuck, I’m so close.”
He reached down between them, his thumb finding her clit, and rubbed in tight circles. The effect was immediate. Her whole body jerked, her rhythm faltering, and she cried out.
“Oh god, oh fuck, Liam! I’m gonna cuuuuuuuum!”
She did, with a scream that echoed through the suite. Her cunt clamped down on him, pulsing and gripping, trying to milk him. Her whole body convulsed, back arching, thighs trembling, and the sight of her falling apart was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
But he held back, gritting his teeth against his own orgasm, because he wasn’t done with her yet.
As her orgasm subsided, she collapsed forward onto his chest, gasping for air. Her whole body was trembling, her cunt still fluttering round his cock, and he could feel her heart hammering against his ribs.
“Holy fuck,” she managed. “That was… amazing.”
“Oh Chloe, the night is far from over,” he said with a grin.
Liam sat up, wrapping his arms round Chloe, and carefully lifted her small body off his cock. She was exhausted after her orgasm, her legs like jelly, and he had to support her weight as he positioned her on her back.
She was so small beneath him, her petite frame dwarfed by his. Her body was incredible up close: lean muscle and feminine curves, her abs flexing as she breathed, her breasts perfect handfuls topped with those tight pink nipples. He settled between her spread thighs, his cock pressing against her entrance, and looked down at her. Her red hair was spread across the pillow, her eyes dark with lust. It was time for him to take control.
“Fuck me,” she demanded. “Hard.” Ok, maybe she was still calling the shots, but he wasn’t going to argue. He thrust inside in one smooth stroke. Her back arched off the bed, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
“Oh god, oh fuck,” she gasped. “Yes. Yes.”
He started to move, long deep strokes that had her gasping with each thrust. He could feel the way she stretched round his girth, the way her lips dragged along his shaft. But he wanted more. He hooked his arms under her knees, pushing them up towards her chest, and the change in angle made her cry out. He was hitting even deeper now, the head of his cock kissing her cervix with each thrust, and her hands scrabbled at the sheets.
“Liam. Oh my god, Liam.” She was near babbling at this point.
He set a steady rhythm, deep and grinding, and watched her face as pleasure painted itself across her features. Her mouth was open, her eyes half-lidded, and soft moans and gasps were falling from her lips with each thrust. She was gorgeous like this, and knowing he was doing this to her made his cock throb inside her.
Sweat started to bead on both their bodies as he kept up the pace. His muscles flexed and released with each movement, his hips driving forward again and again. Her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, her body rocking up the bed until he had to grab her hips and hold her in place.
“Harder,” she begged. “Please, Liam, harder.”
He gave her what she wanted, really driving into her now, the bed frame creaking with the force of it. The sounds of their fucking filled the room: skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of her cunt taking his cock, their moans and gasps and cries.
“Harder,” she demanded, her voice muffled against the pillow. “Fuck me harder.” She was insatiable, but he was determined to give her her wish. He started slamming into her with enough force to make her whole body jerk forward. She was loud now, uninhibited, crying out with each thrust. He had been scared of breaking her, but right now he wasn’t sure the bed would survive, but Liam didn’t give a fuck.
He lowered himself onto his forearms, caging her in completely, and the position let him grind against her clit with each thrust. She cried out, her nails raking down his back, and he felt her inner walls start to flutter.
Knowing she was close, he kept up the punishing rhythm, trying to keep it consistent and push her over the edge even as she writhed under him. He could tell it was working, though, her movements getting more and more erratic, and her cries getting louder and louder until finally her whole body went rigid, every muscle locking, and then she was convulsing beneath him.
“Liam! Oh fuck, oh god, I’m cumming!”
Her cunt clamped down on his cock, pulsing and gripping. It took every ounce of his control not to follow her over, but he gritted his teeth and fucked her through it, prolonging her orgasm until she was sobbing with the intensity of it, her whole body convulsing, back bowing off the bed.
“That’s it,” he groaned, fucking her through it. “Fuck, that’s so good. You’re so beautiful when you cum.”
“Oh god,” she gasped. “Cum for me. Want to feel it. Cum in me, please!” He nearly did; it would have taken only a couple of thrusts, and he would have been unloading in her like a fire hose, but for once he did not follow her commands.
He slowed deliberately, grinding deep instead of thrusting, letting himself back off from the edge. He pulled out, his cock achingly hard, and helped her sit up. She was trembling, her hair plastered to her neck with sweat, her skin flushed pink. She looked absolutely debauched, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her off the bed. “Can you stand?”
“Barely,” she admitted, but let him guide her across the room.
Outside, the city was getting louder. The countdown was approaching. People were cheering in the streets below, gathering along the Thames embankment.
He positioned her in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The view was spectacular: the Thames glittering below, Tower Bridge and the London Eye lit up, and thousands of people visible on the streets and bridges.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“I offer you a view of the fireworks, and I didn’t want you to miss them,” he said, positioning himself behind her. “Want to shag you whilst the whole city celebrates,” he said in a truly atrocious British accent.
“That’s… that’s ridiculously hot,” she admitted while rolling her eyes at his accent.
He had to spread his stance wide, bending his knees to get the right height. Even then, she had to rise on her tiptoes, her calves flexing. He gripped her hips, lining himself up, and slowly pressed inside.
The angle was incredible. He could see their reflection in the glass and see where his cock stretched her cunt. She pressed her hands and chest against the window, the cold glass making her nipples peak, and looked out at the city.
“Oh god,” she whimpered as he bottomed out. “It feels so weird to be looking out the window as we do this.”
“Too much?” he asked, though he didn’t move.
“No. It’s perfect.”
He started to move, long slow strokes holding back as if for her sake when it was really because he was dangerously close himself. Outside, the noise was building. The countdown had to be starting soon. He could hear people chanting in the distance and see them gathering in clusters all along the river.
He kept up the steady pace, feeling sweat drip down his spine, feeling his muscles burn with exertion. They’d been at this for so long now, and his whole body was screaming for release, but he held back. Wanted to make this last.
His hands roamed over her body as he fucked her: cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding down her taut abdomen to feel where they were joined. The chanting outside was getting louder. He could make out the words: “Ten! Nine! Eight!”
“They’re counting down,” he said roughly, his thrusts getting faster. “I’m going to fuck you into the next year.”
“Seven! Six! Five!”
Every thrust sent pleasure shooting up his spine as he sped up. Liam reached round, finding her clit, and rubbed hard.
“Four! Three! Two!”
“Liam,” Chloe gasped. “I think… oh god, I think I’m going to cum again.” That took him by surprise. It hadn’t been long since her last one; he’d been building up for a long final round.
“One! Happy New Year!”
The first firework exploded over the Thames, a massive burst of gold that lit up the sky, and the boom vibrated through the window.
She shattered with a scream, her cunt clamping down on his cock. But he didn’t stop thrusting. It was only the surprise that meant he could hold off on his own climax. “Fuck, fuck, yes!” Chloe was sobbing now, the pleasure too intense, her body shaking with aftershocks as he kept moving.
The sky lit up in a cascade of colours: red, gold, green, blue, and purple, all exploding in rapid succession. The booms were constant now, a drumbeat that he matched with his thrusts. Chloe was crying out with each one, her cunt still clenching round him, milking him for everything he had.
He’d held back for so long. His balls were so tight they ached, his cock throbbing with the need to cum, but he’d gritted his teeth and held on. Wanted to make it last. Wanted to give her everything.
Outside, the fireworks were intensifying. Gouts of sparks erupted from barges on the Thames, cascading fountains of gold and silver shooting hundreds of feet into the air. The London Eye was ringed with fire, burst after burst exploding in rapid succession, each one bigger and brighter than the last.
The booms vibrated through the window and through their bodies, and Liam matched his thrusts to the rhythm. With each explosion, each burst of light, he drove into her harder, deeper, knowing that finally it was time for his release.
“Oh god,” Chloe moaned. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Harder. I’m so close.”
“Me too.” His voice was strained.
She was still grinding back to meet his thrusts, this force of nature who refused to quit no matter how tired she was. Her cunt was gripping him rhythmically now, pulsing round his shaft, so wet and hot and perfect round his shaft.
“That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise.
“Yes,” she whimpered eagerly. “Fuck, yes. But not without you. Cum with me, Liam. Please. Need to feel it.”
The fireworks outside were reaching a crescendo. The entire sky was ablaze now, layer upon layer of explosions, colours bleeding together in a spectacular display. Liam’s thrusts became frantic, desperate. He could feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine like a freight train.
“Oh fuck!” Chloe screamed. “Oh my god, yes! “Fuck, yesyesyes I’m cumming!”
Her whole body went rigid as the orgasm tore through her, wave after wave, and Liam felt her inner walls pulsing, desperately trying to finish him too. And he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Fuck!” he roared, and his orgasm exploded through him.
His cock pulsed inside her, erupting, thick wads of cum flooding her bare cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity after holding back for so long.
“Yes!” Chloe cried out. “Oh god, yes! I can feel it! So much!”
But her exhausted legs gave out. Her knees buckled, and she started to sink down the window, her body too spent to hold itself up any longer despite her eagerness. Liam’s cock slipped out of her with a wet sound, and he was still coming, still erupting uncontrollably.
Hot spurts of cum painted her back as she slid down, streaking across her shoulder blades and her spine. Another thick rope caught in her wild ginger hair, white against the fiery strands. More shot forward, splashing against the window.
“Don’t waste it,” Chloe gasped, looking back at him with wild eyes.
She reached up with one hand, her fingers wrapping round his pulsing cock, and pulled him down over her. He followed, his body curving over hers as she collapsed fully onto the floor, and his final spurts hit her instead of the glass.
Thick ropes of cum coated her body. Across her stomach, down the curve of her breast, pooling in her cleavage and the valleys made by her abs. Her red hair was matted with it, white streaks contrasting against the ginger strands like abstract art.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, his hips still jerking, the last pulses of his orgasm wracking his body. The final spurt landed across her pubic mound, and then he was spent, completely empty, his cock still twitching but nothing left to give. He collapsed beside her, his chest heaving, every muscle in his body trembling with exhaustion.
Between her legs, his cum was leaking out of her well-fucked cunt, mixing with the mess coating her and dripping down to pool on the floor. She looked absolutely divine, her body glistening with sweat and cum, her hair wild and matted, and her skin flushed pink.
Outside, the finale reached its peak. A hundred fireworks exploded simultaneously in a starburst pattern that lit up the entire city, the boom so loud it shook the building. Gold and silver cascaded down like a waterfall, reflecting off the Thames, painting everything in brilliant light.
Chloe turned her head to look at him, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, her face flushed, and cum glistening everywhere. She was grinning, with that same mischievous expression from the bar. “That was incredible. Absolutely incredible.”
“You’re insane,” he said, but he was smiling too. “Completely insane.”
He pulled her closer despite the mess, wrapping his arms round her. She curled into him, sticky and sated and perfect, and they watched the last wisps of smoke clear from the London sky.
“Happy New Year,” Chloe murmured, her eyes already drifting closed.
“Yeah,” Liam agreed, pressing a kiss to her cum-streaked hair. “Happy fucking New Year, you insatiable little firecracker.”
