Author's Notes: This is my very first Rated M on here...

It took 8 hours and 38 minutes to get from the crazy beehive that was New York City to the quiet southern town of New Bern, North Carolina. But the trip was worth it, no matter how tiring it was. The busyness of being a reporter was a putting a strain on John and Abigail's marriage. They were almost on the verge of divorce. But family and friends tried to stop that. They told them to think of the children. And they did. John thought about how devastated Amanda, their daughter, would be if she knew she was going to live with only her mother now. She was daddy's little girl. He couldn't bear to do that to Amanda. It would break both their hearts. Also, John wanted to save his and Abigail's marriage—not only because of the kids but because of Abigail. He still loved her, and he always will. That's why they were getting away from it all.

True, on one hand, Abigail was being unreasonable. After all, she understood that there were times when work would interfere with their lives. She was a journalist, too, for crying out loud!

There were times when John would wake up in the middle of the night to Abigail stirring and answering the phone. An emergency. Another story to cover. Sometimes he would come home very late. All he could do was take his work clothes off and slip into bed. There was no time to make love.

John wasn't a bad husband. He wasn't. He was just too busy, eaten up by work and a false guilt—the false idea that somehow, he had to provide for Abigail, Amanda, and Mary. Of course he did. But he was taking it to the extreme. He was slaving hard to earn that money he needed to provide. To pay the bills. To give Amanda and Mary a good education. He told himself he would make it to editor-in-chief one day, then they can take holidays.

John knew where Abigail was coming from. She was feeling neglected. It slowly dawned on him. She was right, too. When they bought their first house (thanks to Abigail's family), one of the gifts he gave her was a quote from The Notebook stenciled on the wall. The quote reads, "You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, every day we are together is the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours."

It was this very same quote that made him realize he needed to save his marriage. And so he planned. Planned it for weeks. He emailed their editor and told him they needed to go on an emergency holiday. Their boss agreed, told him to take as much time off as they needed.

Then John called an old friend of his from college, Ryan, to look after Amanda and Mary. The two loved Ryan to pieces. Amanda called him "Uncle Ryan." And that was what Ryan was. He was like the brother John never had. He was an honorary member of the Paddock family.

So they were all set.

John's mother had a best friend. That best friend was like a second mother to John and she thought of him as her fifth son. Before she died, she revised her will to include him. He would get the summer house in New Bern. One of her sons, Lance, would keep it, maintain it when they weren't there. Then he would give them the keys the moment they arrive. That was the arrangement. John and Abigail got both the large plantation-style house at the forefront of the estate and the guest house in the back. But even though both houses were available for them to sleep in, John always picked the small guest house. It was homey and cozy. And that was where they were headed now.

Lance opened the gate for them and they made their way along the gravel driveway. John missed the crunching sound the gravel made under the car's tires.

"I miss this place," Abigail said, squeezing John's hand. "We haven't been here in five years. Thank you."

"John! Abigail!" Lance greeted, as they got out of the car. "Long-time-no-see, pal! How's life been treatin' ya?"

"Badly," John said, chuckling. "That's why Abby and I need a little break. To get away from it all.

"That's understandable," Lance said, nodding. "Here are the keys. The ones to the big house are there in case you want to use it. You know you're more than welcome to."

"Thanks, Lance. We know," John said. "We just prefer the smaller house. Maybe we'll try sleeping in the big house one day."

"Alright," Lance said, shrugging. "I'll see you guys around. Enjoy yourselves."

"Will do."

John and Abigail watched as Lance disappeared in the distance, then John kissed Abigail.

"Let's go," he said, carrying their bags. They walked along the path that led to the small guest house in the back. John put their bags down on the porch and opened the door. After opening the door, the first thing John picked up wasn't their luggage. It was Abigail. He carried her like the bride that she was seven years ago on their honeymoon. He carried her like that when they first slept in the very same guest house two years later.

"Oh, John," Abigail said, turning to him and laying her head on his chest. "I've missed this place."

"I've missed you, Mrs. Paddock," John said, kissing the top of Abigail's head.

"I've missed you, too."

"Wait right here," he said, releasing her. "I'll be back. Don't move an inch."

And with that, John ascended the steps to the little loft where their bed was. After depositing their luggage, John came back down with a Kenny Rogers CD in one hand and a single stalk of rose in the other. He put the CD in the player and pressed play. Kenny Roger's Buy Me A Rose sailed though the air.

"May I have this dance?" John said, giving Abigail the rose.

"Yes, Mr. Paddock, you may."

John and Abigail danced like they did at their reception seven years ago. The first dance, as they call it. They danced for what seemed like an eternity. And when the music died, they stood there, in the middle of the small living room, just holding each other. Then John felt Abigail shaking. She was crying. He lifted her face by the chin with his index finger and kissed each tear that fell from her beautiful blue eyes.

"Ssshh..." John said, kissing her cheeks, nose, and lips. "Ssshh... I'll never neglect you again."

Before they knew what was going on, Abigail was unbuttoning John's shirt.

"Make love to me, John," she whispered, kissing his ear and jaw.

No more words were needed. He kissed Abigail deeply with a passion he had not shown in years. He licked her lips, causing her to open them, receiving his tongue. And as their tongues danced, Abigail let out a soft moan. Then she grabbed her woolen sweater by its hem and pulled it up over her head, throwing it down on the floor. John made his way to her neck, lingering there, all the while unbuttoning Abigail's shirt. She freed herself of her shirt, shrugging it off, letting it fall to the floor. They were now at the bottom of the ladder leading up to the loft. John pinned her against it and started kissing her breasts through the material of her bra. He wanted to make love to her then and there, but Abigail stopped him.

"Not here," she whispered, pointing to the loft. John nodded and let her go first. He climbed next and pushed Abigail down onto the bed. He covered her body with his, kissing her ferociously.

"John..." she moaned, enjoying this long-forgotten bliss. "John..."

He unhooked her bra and undid her jeans, throwing both down on the floor. Impatient, Abigail removed her panties, the only thing keeping her clothed at the moment. Then she undid John's jeans and ran her hand over the bulge in his briefs, making him moan.

"Abbs..." he moaned. When he could take no longer, he took it off. It ended on the floor below. He kissed her jaw, neck, chest, breasts, stomach, and her sweet spot. He slipped his tongue in, making Abigail gasp in surprise and delight. He kissed and licked, alternating between the two, until Abigail cried out in ecstasy and came in his mouth. He lapped up her juices then kissed her lips.

"John, you teased," she said, flipping them over so that she was on top. She did the same to John, kissing from his lips, all the way down to is manhood, which, by this time had already softened. There was a wet patch on the white sheets just below the patch that Abigail's cum made. Her moans and squeals made him cum. She smiled. She took stroked him softly to make him hard once more, then took him in her mouth. Sucking and licking.

"Abigail..." he moaned. "Oh!"

His hands were in Abigail's hair and he tightened his grip on it. When he could take no more, he made her stop, flipped them over so that he was on top and entered her.

He moaned like never before. He had forgotten what it felt like to be inside her. To feel her warmth. She too had forgotten how good it felt. How perfect they were together.

He moved slowly at first, then urged on by Abigail's moans, he moved faster. Her moans grew ever louder. To Abigail's disappointment, he stopped.

"Don't stop," she begged.

John ignored her and pulled out, sitting up in bed. Abigail smiled, taking in the scene. John sitting cross-legged. It was his favorite position. She sat, easing herself down onto him, making him moan.


She began moving, up and down, up and down. It felt so good. She threw her head back and John took the opportunity to ravage her neck with kisses until it was red. Her moans grew louder and so did his. Both knew they were getting close.


Abigail stopped, got off, and positioned herself on all fours.

"Take me from behind, John," she whispered, lust in her voice.

John got on his knees and penetrated her from behind, thrusting. Slowly at first, and then building up.

"John! Mmmmm... Ah! Ah! Oh, John... Ah!" Abigail moaned.

"Abbs..." John moaned, exploding inside of her. She followed suit, coating his manhood with her juices. Abigail sighed and laughed, falling down in a heap on the bed.

"Oh," she said, half sighing, half laughing. "Oh! That was great. I missed that."

"I missed that, too," John said, kissing her back and neck.

They stayed like that for a long time, John inside of Abigail, never pulling out. Then his manhood stirred again, making Abigail laugh.

"Again?" she said, laughing.

"Again," John said, kissing her shoulder. "But this time, we're doing it your way."

He pulled out and turned her over, then penetrated her, covering her body with his. The missionary was Abigail's favorite position. She had always loved it. And so John made love to her that way.

"John..." Abigail moaned again. "Faster..."

John did as he was told, moving faster, eliciting louder moans from his wife.


He kept thrusting. He was close. Abigail was close herself.

"John!" Abigail practically screamed. She dug her nails into his back. The bed beneath them was rocking. "John!"

With one final push, John released inside her, panting. They came together, making the other moan in pleasure all the more.

John collapsed on top of Abigail, covered in sweat and exhausted but happy. Abigail, too, was gleaming with sweat. This was what they needed. What they had been missing. What they had been neglecting. They needed a little time away from it all. A time to themselves. A time for each other.

Before they fell asleep, John said, "Remember that quote I had stenciled on our wall?"

Abigail smiled. How could she forget? She quoted it from memory.

"You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, every day we are together is the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours."

John smiled and kissed her.

"I will always be yours," he said. "Trust me on this one."

"I do."

"I love you, Abigail Paddock."

"And I, you, John Paddock."