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I didn’t love it.
But, shit on me, I didn’t hate it either.
Lennon relaxed with a smile, releasing a little sigh of relief. “Okay,” she breathed, nodding. “I can do that.”
“Good,” I replied, reassuring her with a gentle peck on the lips.
Zing.
Lennon’s mouth stretched into a delirious grin as her fingers tangled once again in my hair. She lifted up onto her knees and pressed her forehead to mine, sighing like there was no way to contain the happiness she felt, and I didn’t know why I needed to hold on to that tighter than I’d ever held on to anything before in my life.
Maybe I was simply jealous and hoped that she’d share.
Slowly, our fervent kiss resumed as my hands found her waist and guided her onto my lap. The length of her velvet gown bunched at her knees as her legs straddled mine, spreading wide and hugging tight. The fire at the apex of her thighs called to me, singing the song only a moth could hear from the light, and I tried to reach out and touch it, raising my hips only a little before I met resistance from my absent limb. My lack of practice with this fucking fake leg—not to mention, sex with my real one missing—hadn’t always seemed like such a big deal until now, when I wanted to meet her grind for grind and instead struggled.
Groaning through my frustration, I hoped she hadn’t noticed while knowing there was no way she couldn’t have. But it didn’t seem to bother her, not the way it bothered me, and with her tongue circling mine, her hand traveled the length of my torso and slipped between her open thighs. Her deft fingers pulled at my zipper, freeing my strained erection along with a sigh from my mouth and into hers.
“Oh my God,” she uttered with what seemed like astonishment, as her trembling fingers barely grazed over the length jutting out between us.
She was always shaking.
“Thank you very much,” I answered, cracking a smile before snagging her bottom lip between my teeth.
Lennon tittered with a nervous bout of laughter as her slow-moving hands wrapped around me. Moving in a way that was more explorative than it was purposeful. Like her only ambition in this moment was to memorize every inch of me, and as her fingers danced carefully over the tip, my head lolled back as I resigned myself to her ministrations and journey.
“Lennon.” I muttered her name as her hands tightened, working now in a rhythm. Her name rolled on my tongue, sweeter than the richest wine, and hung from my lips before I groaned with anticipation as she slid from my lap and sank to her knees. “God … fucking … shit …” The connection between my brain and mouth had ceased to function as a random chain of words spilled out the moment she took me in past her lips and to her throat.
Before, she had been so timid that I was beginning to wonder if she might be a virgin. But not anymore. There was nothing shy now in her actions. Only skill, lust, and a shared hunger as her tongue bathed and her lips pulled, drawing me closer to an edge I hadn’t felt with a woman in over four years. My eyes rolled, my heart hammered, and my thighs shook. I was so ready to explode.
But then her hands gripped my knees, and I froze.
I knew she’d felt it.
She didn’t stop, but she had to know it was there. Had she been aware before? I couldn’t know for sure, but she knew now that something was wrong with me.
Fucking cripple.
I wanted to know what she was thinking. If she was curious, scared, disgusted, or turned off. But her head was still bobbing, even as I was drifting further and further away from an orgasm.
Fucking hell.
Lifting my head, I watched the veil of dark, dark hair shimmer with soft violet crystals in the light as I said, “I don’t think—”
“Tell me how to make you come,” she interrupted, looking up with desperation in her eyes. Almost as if she needed this as bad as I wanted it.
“Stand up,” I ordered, hooking my finger beneath her chin and guiding her off her knees to stand before me. “Now, take off that dress.”
She looked momentarily taken aback with wide eyes and a clenched jaw before squaring her shoulders and standing up straight. She turned around to present her back, exposed to just above her ass, and said, “Unzip me.”
With a salacious quirk of my lips, I laid a hand on her hip, grazing my thumb over her rounded curves as the other grabbed the silver metal tab and slowly pulled it down to her mid-thigh. My hands parted the material, revealing the black lace thong and milky-white flesh of her shapely ass. I pressed my fingertips into her hips and held on tight to pull her close and kiss the small of her back.
Lennon hummed a soft moan as she shrugged the spaghetti-thin straps from her shoulders, allowing them to fall from her arms. The dress pooled at her feet in a heap of slinky velvet, and she stood before me in nothing but that little scrap of lace.
And it was still too much.
“Now, this,” I said, tracing the strip of black along her hip with my nose, and then I sank my teeth into one firm cheek.
She gasped, followed by a guttural moan. “God, that's going to leave a mark,” she muttered, almost to herself.
