He shakes himself out of the daze he’s in and before I know it, his boxers are sailing over the side of the bed as he grips me under my arms and rolls so I’m straddling him. “Then show me what you want.”
Love for him flows through me like lava on speed when I realize that this man, who always has to be in control of every situation, is allowingmeto set the tone and pace. As I raise up slightly, I can see my wetness shining on his cock, which is long, hard, and veiny.
“I want to ride,” I murmur as I reach down and line him up with my entrance.
As I slide down his length, I can feel the slight burn as he stretches me, but it feels good and doesn’t evoke any of the badmemories that have always lurked whenever we were fooling around. No, right now, it’s just the two of us here, the energy between us sparking so many sensations that I almost feel overwhelmed.
“Then ride, Goddess,” he says, his voice low and husky, which sends another wave of desire coursing through me, allowing me to fully seat myself on his cock.
Before I can get into my head about how I must look since all of my scars are on display, I plant my hands on his chest so I can play with his nipples and begin moving up and down in a rhythm that’s older than time itself. My breath is coming out in small pants and moans as he thrusts upward whenever I’m coming down, hitting a spot that I’ve read about but always assumed was a myth.
“Viking,” I whimper, my orgasm building into something I’ve never felt before. “I-I-I need… I need something.”
“I’ve got you, Letti, and I’ll never let go,” he says. His hands, which span my hips and waist are gripping me tightly, but when his thumb begins stroking my clit, I explode.
“Viking!” I scream as wave after wave of absolute pleasure detonates throughout my body. Lights are flashing behind my eyes as I gasp and moan, the emotions almost too much at this point.
He thrusts several more times before he bellows out my name and I feel his cum filling my sheath, which is still spasming as I collapse on his chest, my own heaving as I try to fill my lungs with oxygen. We’re both sweaty messes but right now I couldn’t care less.
“I love you, Letti,” he murmurs, kissing my temple after he slides my hair off of my face.
“I love you, my Viking,” I reply, so sated that I find myself heading into a light doze.
“Letti, I’ll order more food, we’re not reheating that,” he says as I take our long forgotten plates into the kitchen to put in the microwave. “It’s been sitting out for hours and there’s no way I’m risking either of us getting food poisoning and destroying the memory of these past few hours.”
“Good idea,” I agree, heading over to the trash bin and dumping the plates. “Food poisoning while having a little one running about does not sound like a good time to me.”
“And tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, so we’ll have little G too,” he reminds me. As he snatches his phone out of his jean pocket and begins shuffling through the delivery apps, he shakes his head. “We should just grab Elodie early and pick up some takeout on the way back. Have an early dinner.”
“Good suggestion. I’m not all that hungry right now,” I admit.
After we finished making love and snuggled for a long while, we jumped into a warm shower where we explored one another's bodies which led to another bout of carnal pleasure. So now, I’m nice and relaxed, food is the last thing on my mind. A nap, however, sounds glorious. But that’s impossible right now because we’re expected to grab Elodie within the next couple of hours. She usually stays longer at Riptide and Van’s after she’s done with her schoolwork so she can play with little Gage. Butseeing how today has been an emotional one, I’m with my Viking and think it’s a better idea to get her early, order dinner through a drive thru, and come back home and watch some Disney films. The evenings have become my favorite time in the day.
“I’ll text Van and let her know we’ll be coming sooner rather than later so she can plan her evening,” I tell him as I walk to the foyer and pluck my phone off the sofa table that he has stationed close to the front door where he normally tosses his keys, wallet, and other loose things he carries in his pockets. I’ve adopted his habit and that’s where I place my things as well. It makes it easier to find stuff instead of needing to buy an air tag so I can locate them. I’m notorious about losing my keys, phone, and purse—or at least, I was.
“I need to drop my bike off for a tune-up, so I’ll be later than you are getting to Riptide’s. But the shop is around the corner from his place, so I won’t have my eyes off of you for long,” he informs me. “Are you comfortable with that? If not, I can see which guy is free that can tail you.”
“It’s just a couple of blocks, Viking. What could go wrong?”
“So many things,” he sighs. “Which is why I’m hesitant about letting you go on without me.”
“Won’t you need a ride from the shop to Rip’s?” I ask, curious about how he plans on getting there if he’s dropping his bike off. “Are you hoofing it?”
“Shade dropped his truck off yesterday for a minor repair and is picking it up today, so we’d thought it’d be easier if I rode back with him instead of having you follow me. But plans have changed since then. The only reason I don’t want to break thatwith him is because he’s struggling with something and I’m the only one he’ll talk to.”
I inwardly snicker because I imagine their talks are filled with grunts, sighs, and hand signals rather than using actual words. “I bet I know what he’s struggling with,” I tease, batting my lashes at him. “A lady named Tatum McAllister.”
“I’ve had that same idea,” he states, then ponders, “Maybe I’m not the best man for this job?”
“But it’s like you said, you’re the only one he’ll talk to about it so I don’t see how you have any other choice but to grin and bear it,” I point out. He grunts which makes me laugh out loud. “I know carrying on a verbal conversation isn’t in your wheelhouse, Viking, but the two of you are like two peas in a pod, you get each other like nobody else does. Maybe all he needs you to do is listen,” I suggest.
“But what if he wants advice?” he asks me.
“Then follow your heart, Viking. Use your own experiences as examples,” I propose.
“The only experiences I have are with you and it feels wrong to talk to him about you without you there to give your input or stop me if something gets too personal, Letti. I don’t like it. I don’t want anybody to know anything private about you. It makes me twitchy because I’m the only one who should know that shit.”
My man is such a neanderthal. Sometimes, he makes me think of those cavemen in the old insurance commercials who carry those wooden, billy clubs over their shoulders, waiting for the right moment to strike. I’m waiting for him to beat his fistsagainst his chest, swing that bludgeoning bat, and thunder—Mine!
