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They were gorgeous, glorious specimens of masculinity at the height of their desirability.
And she had eighteen-year-old tits. She’d worked for those tits. Suffered for them. They were perky and round and yes, they were mainly made of silicone, but they were hers. The anchor and lollipop scars had faded to a glossy pink, and they were more like lines than the raised scars she’d feared. Like someone had taken a pink marker to her chest.
The doctor had done an excellent job and her nipples hadn’t even died and she took care of them, so it was okay to have sex again. It was okay to enjoy them again. It was okay to find something good out of all that fear and pain.
It was okay to find some joy.
Why was it so hard for her to reach out and take something for herself?
She shrugged out of the shirt and wrestled with her bra. Despite the many months since that initial surgery, she sometimes still felt like she’d woken up in a body she didn’t belong in. She hoped tonight helped change that. It had been a long time since she’d had sex. The last year of her marriage had been mostly a dry spell, and she hadn’t dated since. Until Hale had shown up on her doorstep, she hadn’t given sex much of a thought.
Now it seemed like an excellent idea. Now it seemed like the start of something.
She tossed the bra aside and shivered because it was still a little chilly in the room.
Van moved quickly, getting in her space and wrapping her up in a hug that brought their skin together, sending immediate heat through her. “I knew you would be gorgeous. Can I touch you?”
Hale was behind her, covering her back with that beautiful chest of his. His big hands skimmed her skin from the curve of her hips to just under her breasts.
Something eased inside her, some place that had been tight and knotted up before. She felt her body loosen as though their acceptance of her had given each muscle permission to relax. “Please touch me.”
No one had touched her in so long. Not in this way. She’d been poked and prodded and sliced open and sewn back together, but no one had stroked hands across her skin, warming her with their own body heat.
She gasped as Hale caught her arms, hooking them with his own and drawing them back so her breasts thrust out.
Van was staring at her breasts, studying them carefully.
“Why would you think for a second that anyone would reject you for those absolutely gorgeous tits?” His voice had gone deeper than she’d heard it before. He moved in and let his fingertips trace over her scars. “Even this is pretty. It’s soft. It doesn’t look like any scar I’ve ever seen.”
“The doc was pretty good with the surgical glue, and I was careful.” She’d been told not to sweat. In the middle of summer in North Carolina. “I had to wear a surgical bra for eight weeks, and I had to sleep in a chair because I couldn’t roll over.” She shouldn’t be talking so much. They didn’t want to hear about her surgeries, but he was touching her and Hale was holding her back. Restraining her. It should be annoying but it kind of did something for her. Her body was heating up in ways it never had before. “One of them is smaller than the other. It tightened up during radiation and that’s why it’s firmer, too.”
Van reached out and cupped them both, sending a thrill of arousal through her. She could still feel them. Not the way she had before, but she could still enjoy hands on her breasts.
“I think they’re both perfect.” Van’s head was down, watching as he ran his thumbs over her nipples. He dropped down to his knees and leaned over, licking her.
She was sure she’d had far more sensitivity before, but in the moment it didn’t matter because the warmth of his tongue alone made arousal shoot through her and suddenly her pussy was softening, getting wet and ready.
He played with her nipples, gently at first, as though testing her limits.
“Do you like how that feels, Elisa?” Hale asked, his mouth against her ear.
“Yes. I’m not very sensitive, but I like the warmth.” She liked how the rest of the world was falling away and all that mattered was being with the two of them.
Hale’s tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her bite back a groan.
She’d thought she would have to get through this initial encounter, hoped she could find a little pleasure in it. This would be a test of sorts to see how far she could go.
All of that flew out of her brain as arousal took over, and she wasn’t self-conscious anymore. She wasn’t overthinking every single thing. No. She was going on instinct, and instinct told her to let these men do anything they liked.
