Page 132 of The Reluctant Viking

“Oh, Jack, we’ve been married twenty years, and you still take my breath away.”

“Ruby! What a thing to say!” he exclaimed softly.

“It’s true.” And she started to cry again.

“Come here,” Jack demanded in a passion-raw voice from where he still stood in front of the fireplace. He held out a hand in entreaty.

Ruby closed her eyes for just a second, wondering if they were doing the right thing—making love before they’d had a chance to resolve their problems. On one last weak note, she said, “You told me earlier today that we could go upstairs and screw our brains out and it wouldn’t solve our problems.”

Jack laughed in a low, seductive voice.

“I changed my mind. Let’s screw each other’s brains out anyway and see what happens next.”

“I’d rather we made love.”

He shrugged and grinned wickedly. “Let’s do both.” His voice rasped with the intensity of his desire.

Ruby got up and walked into his embrace. At first they just stood in each other’s arms, enjoying the feel of familiar skin and body scent.

“Oh, Rube,” was all Jack said as he groaned and pulled her down to the rug with him. She tried to put her arms around his neck, but Jack told her with soft words and hoarse whispers to lie back, he wanted to enjoy her first.

With his mouth and tongue and teeth and inventive fingers, Jack paid homage to her body, strumming those points he knew to be especially sensitive, discovering new erotic zones to be examined and tested and heightened to the point of spiraling, intensifying pleasure. He kissed her forever until her lips swelled and grew slick with wetness.

He spent endless moments adoring her breasts, teasing the tips with flicks of his moist tongue, pulling lightly on the hardened nubs between his teeth and only suckling her deeply when she begged and flailed with loud moans.

When his fingers moved lower to her cleft, Jack’s eyes shot up to hers in surprise at the wetness.

“Oh, Rube,” he groaned. “Do you want me so much?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Moving between her legs, he gripped her ankles, then pushed up and out. He gazed at her exposed body for a long time with glazed eyes and passion-slack lips, murmuring soft love words. Then he lowered himself and used his tongue in rhythmic strokes against the flowering bud until she shook with mindless want before exploding into an earth-rocking climax. He adjusted himself and was about to enter her when Ruby protested, “No, wait.”

She got up and huskily instructed Jack to kneel so they faced each other. Then Ruby used all the love and uninhibited skill she possessed to pay homage to his magnificent body, from his drugging lips, to his muscular chest, to his deliciously flat stomach, and lower to the marble hardness of his manhood. Love, tested and true, guided Ruby to all the familiar places on her husband’s body.

Finally Jack broke away from her and choked out, “No more!”

He placed her back on the floor and positioned her body for his entry. With a long thrust, he filled her, and Ruby held on tightly, wanting to savor the wonderful rightness of being melded with the man she adored.

Before he began to move, Ruby held his head between her two hands, and whispered, “I love you, Jack.”

“I love you, too, babe. I never stopped.”

Then the time for words was gone as he began the sweet rhythm they both knew so well. With each hard stroke, Ruby keened louder and louder.

She couldn’t be sure in the flickering firelight if Jack’s blond hair was collar-length or down to his shoulder blades, if that sparkle near his ear was a reflection from the fire or an earring. Both men—Thork and Jack—merged into one. Perhaps for all eternity.

Ruby and Jack both moaned and spoke softly of the intense pleasurable sensations spiraling through their bodies.

“Slower,” she pleaded.

“Like this?”

“Yes…oh, yes!”

Sweat beaded on Jack’s forehead as he tried to slow his pace to meet her needs.

“Now harder,” she demanded.