the earliest opportunity. He bunched the material up around her waist and discovered the primary reason for her choice of outfit. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. Samuel paused just long enough to look his wife in the eye and beg forgiveness before he stabbed into her, fast and completely until he was enveloped in her body. Surrounded by that lush wet heat, his composure gave out and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, sobs shaking him through to the marrow of his bones.
She was murmuring in his ear, but it took him some minutes to be able to hear the words that she was repeating.
“There, there, cher. Nothing to be sorry for. I needed you too. Still do.”
Her words began to penetrate the fog in his head about the same time that Samuel’s body telegraphed the message that she was flexing against him. That brought with it the realization of the sensation that she was slick and wet and that he hadn’t hurt her with the brutality of his need. He tried to make words, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much he was thankful for her, but they got crowded and stuck in his throat until they came out all jumbled together as a grunt.
So instead he showed her how much he’d missed her, how much he needed her. He pulled out and slammed back into her, wrenching a moan from both of them. The satin heat of her pussy was almost too much. Determined that he wasn’t just going to use her for his own satisfaction again this night, Samuel slid his hand between them, finding her clit with an ease that belied the time they’d spent apart. His body, acting on instinct honed through the years spent together before this separation, took over. He found the rhythm and the angle that had Moira screaming his name, her nails buried in the leather of the kutte he was still wearing as her body spasmed around his, robbing him of reality once more in a flash of white light.
When he settled back to his body the strength seeped out of his arms and Samuel collapsed onto his wife’s heaving chest before rolling over to give her space to draw breath. The feel of pulling out of her luscious body wrenched another moan from him. He didn’t want to lose that feeling, not ever again.
Moira’s laughter startled him out of his relaxed fugue. “Cher, you better be plannin’ on workin’ on your stamina.”
“Cheeky bitch.” He made a halfhearted swat in her direction. The muscles in his body were still refusing to act as one organism.
“Don’t worry, cher, we have the rest of our lives.”
“Damn right. I ain’t goin’ back Moira. I won’t ever spend years away from you or the kids again.
His wife rolled onto her side, without bothering to straighten her dress, and placed her palm in the center of his chest. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, cher. I know what this life is. Knew what it was when I signed up for it. You can’t give me guarantees like that and I won’t ask for them.”
Samuel didn’t answer, he couldn’t. He didn’t intend to retract his vow or amend it, so anything he might have said would have been a lie, and this wasn’t a time for lies. He turned onto his side to face his wife. He traced the line of her cheek and jaw then turned his hand to brush the backs of his fingers down her throat. When he reached the collar of that hideous dress, some god-awful mustard color, he gave it a tug and grinned.
“Cher, you know I hate this?” His voice was hoarse and he coughed to try and clear it a little.
“It served a purpose. It don’t crease either.”
Moira returned his grin and then rolled off the bed. She pulled the hem of the dress straight and hunted for shoes that Samuel hadn’t known she’d lost. Having found her footwear and slipped it on, Moira disappeared into the small bathroom the adjoined the room. Samuel flipped to his back and stared at the