Hey theeeeeeere!

Sorry for the delay, I've been very busy this week ^^' I wrote almost the entire chapter at school (thank God we're Italian and I wasn't writing in my own language eheheh).

This is the last chapter of this exciting (or so I hope you found it) and angsty/smutty journey. I just wanted to thank all of you, for leaving me lots of reviews (95 for a silly story like this? OMG!), as well as the 37 followers and the 14 who favourited this. THANK YOU SO MUCH, it means a lot to me as a writer, especially as a non English speaking writer.

You guys are amazing, cute and really supportive.

Enjoy the last smut!

Twelve.

Elsie turned in bed and sighed loudly.

She felt a warm presence next to her and she opened one eye lazily. The first thing she saw was her sleeping husband's face.

Her heart warmed at the sight. She wasn't alone anymore.

Charles mumbled something in his sleep and frowned slightly, before whimpering contently and going back into the depths of his dream.

His wife smiled fondly at the scene enfolding before her and reached out to pass her hand through his hair, tangling her fingers in his errant curls, gently stroking the skin behind her ear.

She leaned in and hesitantly grazed his lips with hers, watching as he responded to her kiss slowly before opening his eyes sleepily.

Once he realized Elsie was kissing him however, he slid one arm around her waist and drew her to him, kissing her back with fervor.

They took their time in exploring and teasing each other's mouth, their breaths becoming as one, as they suckled and nibbled at one another's skin.

Elsie felt his morning erection pressing against her belly and she smiled against his mouth, caressing his slightly rough cheek.

"Good morning," she murmured, kissing him on the chin.

She perceived, rather than heard, his low response, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of his deep voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him.

"Better than the past months, surely," he commented huskily.

She nodded in agreement and her hair stroked the stubble of his beard, tickling him.

"Do you want some breakfast?" she demanded quietly.

"I'm rather famished, now I think of it."

"Well then," she said, jumping off the bed after kissing his chest.

"Come along!" she spurred him, leaving the room quickly, naked as the day she was born.

He stared at her bottom as the door closed after her. He heard her soft giggles in the hallway, then the bathroom door opening and closing.

When Charles went down, wearing his underwear and undershirt, he found her in the kitchen, clad in just her dressing gown.

"You remembered to put something on in the end, to cover your modesty."

She didn't even look at him as she started opening the cupboards to draw out their cups, fretting over the cooker to put on the kettle.

"It is none of your business if I cover my nakedness or not," she replied curtly, but he detected a smile in her voice.

"I think it is. I wouldn't want anyone to see that beautiful body of yours."

She turned to face him, one eyebrow raising dangerously.

"Honestly Charles, I'm not a young lass anymore."

He stood up and encircled her waist with his arms, dropping a sloppy kiss on her mouth.

"This doesn't mean I can't appreciate your body as it is."

"You mean a decadent ruin."

Charles lowered his head to her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

"It didn't seem a decadent ruin yesterday night, I can assure you," he whispered huskily.

She drew back a little, leaning further against the counter, involuntarily pressing her pelvis against his crotch.

He let out a low moan.

"You are a hopeless liar," she pointed out quietly, a smug smile on her face, her hands on his chest.

He leaned in and murmured rhetorically, "But you have always liked it, haven't you?" before kissing her hungrily, hands roaming on her body, excited at the thought she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath her dressing gown.

She responded eagerly, sliding her arms around his neck, her tongue asking for permission to enter.

He promptly invited her in and Elsie moaned while exploring his mouth.

Charles then took hold of her hips and lifted her off the floor, positioning her on top of the counter.

She opened her legs and locked them around his waist, shifting on the edge to press herself against him.

He felt again her naked sex against his body, eradiating warmth, and he groaned deeply, tugging at the tie of her dressing gown.

Elsie divested herself of it and threw it in the middle of the room.

He was just about to kiss her along her neck when the kettle hissed and Elsie suddenly opened her eyes, which she had closed in anticipation.

"The tea," she exclaimed, pushing him away and carefully easing herself off the counter.

She took the kettle away from the cooker and put off the fire, making her way to the table, while Charles looked at her with his mouth hanging open, her eyes following her every move.

She was acting naturally, as if she was fully dressed. Which she was not.

Elsie turned to look at him questioningly. "Aren't you coming?"

He neared her in two strides and took hold of the kettle, putting it on the cooker again.

"You can't expect to turn me on like that and then simply have breakfast as if nothing happened."

"The tea is ready," she replied, hiding a smile. "I thought you were hungry."

His eyes roamed over her naked body, glinting with lust.

"At the moment I'm hungry for something else," he confessed, before crushing his lips to hers.

Elsie hummed in pleasure as he bent her over the table and then lowered his head to kiss the valley between his breasts.

She whimpered as she encouraged his attentions by entangling her fingers in his hair, writhing under him.

Charles knelt in front of her and pried apart her legs, which were dangling from the table.

She propped herself on her elbows, pouting at the absence of his lips on her body.

"What are you...?" she trailed off and then gasped loudly when she felt his tongue on her center.

"Charles!" she exclaimed, halfway between the surprised and interrogative.

He chuckled before kissing her again there, making her hips buckle and her breath short.

He teased her at her entrance with his tongue as she panted heavily, before inserting one finger and thrusting in and out of her along with his tongue.

Her deep moans only spurred him to go on as he felt his arousal grow.

"Come here," she whispered in a thick Scottish accent, extending her arms to him.

He took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor along with his underwear, before penetrating her in one long push.

They both groaned. She felt so wet and warm, her walls stretching to accommodate to his length; he felt so deliciously hard, his member throbbing and twitching inside her.

They started moving in unison, he thrusting rhythmically, she slightly raising her hips to meet his thrusts.

His groans matched her whimpers, his chest raised and fell against hers as they clung to each other tightly, trying to find their release.

He suddenly changed the angle, touching a spot in her that made her cry out in pleasure: she felt herself toppling over the edge. He followed her soon after.

They smiled smugly at each other as they caught their breath.

"I didn't know you were that racy, Mr Carson. Doing it on the kitchen table no less!"

"You should have known it better before teasing me and then going downstairs completely undressed."

"I put it on when I found it in the bathroom," she replied in mock seriousness.

"You should have put it on before that," he commented, nearing his head to hers for a kiss.

She raised her head from the table at the same time and their foreheads bumped against each other.

"Ouch!" they moaned in pain, massaging their skin, side eyeing one another.

His expression was so completely speechless she couldn't help laughing aloud.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, pouting.

"Your face," she answered in a sweet and low tone. "You would think after all these years we learned how to kiss and make love properly, but no, we still manage to bump our foreheads together."

He chuckled, hugging her tightly against his chest. "We're not perfect."

Elsie sighed at the truth of his words.

No, they weren't perfect.

She had always knew that, they had always knew that. Marriage was about knowing your spouse's virtues and flaws and learn to live with them, accepting your partner for what they were.

However, after fifteen years of marriage, they still had a lot to learn.

What they had experienced in the previous mouths was the proof of how much they still had to face, of how long they still had to walk together, hand in hand, in that steep but beautiful path that is loving each other.

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