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When he didn’t object, she slowly tugged the leather away from his wrist and up over what remained until it… untilhewas exposed.
Fuck, it was ugly.
The blast had essentially torn his right hand in half, taking away his thumb, fore and middle fingers and a portion of his palm. He remembered looking down to see bits of bone and flesh hanging, with the skin scorched and blackened past his wrist. His buddies told him he just shifted his rifle to his left hand and kept firing until the insurgents were either dead or on the run, but he didn’t remember that part.
He’d love to forget what happened next, but sometimes he still woke in the night, sweating over pain that was long past. It had taken a few surgeries to clean everything up and graft skin over the edges. The recovery, learning to live with nerve endings that no longer stopped in the right place, was the kind of pain that wasn’t too much on its own, it just lasted too long. In the end, the docs told him there were prosthetics available to make his hand look a little more normal and maybe help him balance things a bit more evenly, but he thought the silicone covered fingers looked even more bizarre than a man wearing a single glove all year round.
One of the crews he was on gave him a sequined glove and a red jacket one year as a Halloween gag and he’d laughed his ass off. It had been pretty fucking funny.
He’d gotten roaring drunk that night.
Now Tracy touched him. She cradled her hand in his and brought it closer to her face, and he watched her as she examined the ugly, lumpy scars and mottled skin.
He’d seen plenty of pity in his day. This wasn’t pity. Her lips turned down in sorrow, and he stared in wonder as she brought the stump of his hand to her mouth for a gentle kiss.
The heaviness he’d carried in his soul since the blast flew away on angel’s wings when she took that scarred, hideous, useless limb and laid it on her breast, just over her beating heart.
“You told me you loved me, Cutter. I’m willing to take a chance on loving you back. Even the parts of you that are only a memory.”
ChapterSix
Cutter had eaten her pussy like he was competing for a gold medal in cunnilingus. The orgasm alone was nearly worth the price of love, but when she added in the man himself, the math didn’t even matter anymore.
He’d been there when she needed him. He’d held steady in the face of her complicated family and misguided plumbing.
He was more than worth the chance.
Tracy rolled herself into his side more tightly, clutching his scarred hand to her breast.
“You really don’t mind my hand?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Look, you spanked my ass and made me see stars with only one hand. If you had two, I’m a little afraid I’d explode from the sexiness.”
That gruff chuckle warmed her heart. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing it, knowing it was so rare.
The memory of his palm cracking against her still-warm bottom revved her engine all over again. The flush of fresh arousal sent a tingling sensation over her skin and she tilted up her chin for a kiss.
Wow, could he kiss. Firm, but not punishing, he licked against her lips. She needed no encouragement and immediately responded. The warm, musky flavor was a surprise until she realized she was tasting herself on his tongue. Tracy didn’t know if it was kinky or not, but she sucked it in and moaned.
“You taste fucking amazing, baby.” His voice, low and rough, raised goosebumps all over her body and she shivered with happiness.
“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” she teased. “I’ll taste you later.”
With a twist of her hips, she straddled him. His cock had flagged as they rested, but she deliberately planted her pussy lips over the quickly stiffening ridge and delicately rode the length of it. She’d never been this wet and it took only seconds before the slick sound of sex rose between them.
“Back in the saddle again, huh? Ready to see some more stars?”
“God, yes, Cutter. It’s been a long time.” More years than she cared to remember, but time disappeared when he reached up with his other hand to knead her breast.
“You need me to wear a rubber, little mama? I’ve got one in my pocket. It’s…” He looked around a little wildly. “Fuck, my jeans are somewhere around here.”
It was hard to have this conversation while her brain was leaking out her pussy, but she shook her head to clear it. A cancer scare a few years ago had resulted in a partial hysterectomy. After her mom’s illness and the certainty that she had no intention of popping out another baby at her age, it had been an easy decision to make.
“Clean?” she remembered to ask.
He nodded. “Been a while and I’ve been tested since then.”
“Then it’s okay. Fuck me bare, Cutter.”
