CHAPTER SIX

Jay

I couldn’t actually believe it. I was sitting beside Margo and we were driving to the bay. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. My stare lingered on her high, firm breasts, that long neck, her lips.

“Are you sure about this?”

She nodded. Her lip was between her teeth, focused on her driving.

As we reached the docks, my ache of longing was laced with tension. What would I do? Margo had never seen my leg. Had no idea of the withered, bruised monstrosity it had become below my knee. I didn’t want to show her.

She drew to a halt. We were in a deserted parking lot. The bay was a distant glimmer far below, the light catching the wavelets, the lake gray and sparkly, slowly being eaten by shadow as the night fell steadily.

I breathed in. I was shaking. I reached over and let my hand rest on her thigh. Her skin was cool and satiny.

I let my fingers stroke her skin, moving, searching, up under the skirt she wore. I could hear my breath catching in my throat, my body tensed.

She giggled as my fingers brushed up and just skimmed her undies.

“Does this thing go backwards?” she laughed. I frowned, and she indicated the seat, fumbling under it for the knob to make it go flat.

I nodded. My hand moved for the knob and I pressed it, and she leaned back. The seat shot flat.

I let my eyes travel down her body. I was shaking, the longing was so bad. She was lying on her back, those round, hard breasts sweet and irresistible to touch. I let my hand slide up from her narrow waist and grip one, squeezing it.

She gasped. I sighed. It felt impossibly good in my hand. They fit so well, just the right size for my grip. She leaned back, and I moaned, feeling my cock aching.

I shifted in my seat, finding the lever and letting it go flat too. At least that way I could shift onto one side and kiss her. My tongue slid between her lips and I kissed her, probing her mouth. It was firm and warm on my tongue and I loved the feeling of exploring her, loved the way she parted her lips and yielded to my tongue.

I rolled over and shifted so that our bodies touched. I wanted to take her clothes off but wasn’t sure if she would let me. I rested my hand on her shoulder and gently slid it into the collar, wincing with rising desire as I felt her warm skin under my hand.

“Let me help,” she breathed softly. She sat up and started to undress. I stared at her. Every move was impossibly graceful even though I didn’t think she was trying consciously to be so. She had a natural, sinewy grace that made me drink in her every move.

When she was down to her bra and panties she leaned back. I cleared my throat, but my voice was still a growl.

“Let me.”

She nodded and lay back and I let my eyes feast on her. Her bra and panties were matching, a pale color that could have been dark white or pale pink. I reached up and let the straps move down her slender arms. Her full cleavage was warm, and I ached to see it.

It was getting dark now but as I fumbled and undid her bra I could still see the pale shine of her skin, the dark circles at their centers. Two pale rounds, I ached to feel them between my lips.

I leaned down and greedily drew her nipples into my mouth. I sighed. I recalled them as big, and they were—big and full and so pleasurable to tease with my tongue.

I heard her gasping and I ran my hand down her tummy, reaching for her undies. I slid them off.

She gasped and shivered as I slid my hand between her thighs, my fingers gently parting her folds. They felt hot to my touch, and I could feel the hard nodule, firm and erect, between them. I gently worked it with my fingers and my whole body stiffened as I did so. I heard her sigh.

I let my fingers go lower. I could smell her now and the sweet, spicy, damp smell of her was getting to me, making my loins ache.

I could feel how wet she was, and she started to shiver, her thighs jerking as they did when she came. I quickly stripped myself. She reached across to help, making me tense with longing.

I was ready. I slid my boxers down over my knee, drawing them off my right leg. As I did so, I felt tense. I didn’t want her to see the leg. My whole body froze then, my shame flooding me. I had never felt shame about my body—not before the accident. Now, faced with Margo, who knew me as I had been, the shame was like acid, washing its sting through me and making me wish I could run away.

“Margo?”

“Mm?”

She stirred, and her eyes opened, then she shut them again. I let out a slow, shuddering sigh. As it happened, the car was getting dark and there was no way she could see my leg. In any case, her eyes were closed, her pale body prone as I slid across and gently parted her thighs.

I wrapped my arms around her and gently slid my left thigh under her, drawing her towards me. She rolled into my arms and I parted her legs, then thrust into her.

Her eyes opened in surprise.

I smiled. I let myself inch into her slowly, even though the hot wetness of her was making me shiver and almost come.

I pushed into her and she yelled, and then I could contain myself no longer. Her body pressed against me, I thrust and thrust up into her, and she jerked and shivered and yelled.

I pushed into her and I could feel my senses swimming and my mind clouding and my body tensing and the almost pain that filled the throbbing head of my cock and filled it and filled it…

I yelled, and the sweet sensation broke through me and over me and stole my mind.

I lay there in her arms and my skin cooled against her. I felt spent.

She sighed and rolled over.

“Well,” she murmured. “You’re squashing me.”

I rolled over immediately, shooting upright with all the haste I could manage.

She giggled. “It’s okay,” she said. “I just…I should go.”

She eased herself to sitting. I watched her unashamedly, reveling in the beauty of her body. I had come overwhelmingly but I was already feeling fresh arousal stir me.

“I guess we should go,” I murmured softly.

She nodded and reached for her top that she had placed on the back seat.

I reached for mine.

We dressed and fixed our hair shyly and put the seats back.

“Come on,” she said as she turned the keys. The jolting, shuddering engine purred to life.

I nodded. “We should go back.”

“Mm.”

We drove back to town. When we reached the main street, near where we’d met for coffee, I sighed.

“I should go.”

“Okay,” she said. She let me out and then sped off, waving through the window.

I leaned on my crutches and felt elated, drained and miserable. I had remembered what sweet bliss it was to be with Margo. But was that a good thing? It was going to torture me. I couldn’t inflict myself on her. Not with this leg.

I stood on the sidewalk, the street loud around me with the sound of traffic and the blare of horns and the shouts of pedestrians, heading down the street.

I was invisible, a mute, unseen observer as life rushed and eddied past me. My whole body was transformed, each part of me tingling and enlivened.

But my heart was sore with the almost-certain knowledge that wouldn’t happen again.

How could I let it?

I had walked away from her years ago so that she never had to see the new me—the wounded me—and I knew I wasn’t about to burden her now.