Jonesin' For Action(15)

Clasping her hand in his, he planted a kiss on her palm and sighed. “I thought about this a bit while at the bar. If I try and you cooperate, I can keep you from seeing what’s left of my leg. It’s not exactly a turn-on.”

“I know. I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you on this because I think amputated limbs are hot. I mean there are people for whom it is a turn-on. And, if that’s your kink, then okay. But that’s not me.” She groaned in frustration. “It’s just that I want you to be relaxed with me and right now, you’re not, not completely.”

He nodded curtly. “You’re right.”

A few seconds ticked by with them both still. He stared out into space as if waging a war within. Finally, he lifted her off his lap and placed her on the couch beside him. With a rueful grin, he whipped his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. Then bending over, he pulled off his sneakers. His prosthesis was the skeleton type, and the lower half was visible beneath the hem of his shorts. She could see now, though, how the foot part looked like a real one, sort off, in order to fit a regular sneaker. Not wanting to stare, she looked at his face.

“That’s the easy part,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrows. His chest rose and fell on a heavy breath before he stood up and unsnapped his shorts. He let them slide down his legs to pool at his feet then stepped out of them. True to SEAL lore, he was going commando. His cock was still semi-erect, his balls fairly snug between his legs.

“You’re beginning to get my attention,” she murmured with her gaze fixed squarely on his package.

He laughed as she had hoped he would. It was obvious he felt awkward standing in front of her with his artificial leg on full display. It was a complex mechanism with joints and straps. She could see where his leg sat in a cup designed to hold his stump, but the thigh above it looked like any other male thigh. The only noticeable difference to the whole leg was that it looked a little thinner. He probably hadn’t been able to use it as much and rebuild muscle.

Sitting back down beside her, he said, “This is where it gets a little tough.”

She placed her hand on his arm. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked at her with a hopeful smile. “I know.” With what appeared to be well-practiced moves, he disengaged the prosthesis from his leg and placed it on the floor. He sat back and put his arms on the back of the sofa. His eyes focused on a point across the room.

They sat in silence for a few seconds as Marissa tried to think of what to say, what to do. In the end, she went with her gut and placed her hand on top of his thigh. He flinched, but otherwise remained still, almost distant from her as if it were too painful to gauge her reaction. She slowly slid her hand close to the scarred stump where his knee had once began. She didn’t dare go farther, not because she was repulsed but out of fear of causing him pain. The skin looked sensitive.

“Does it hurt?” she asked in a low voice, then literally smacked herself on the forehead with her free hand. “God, stupid question.”

He shifted his gaze to her and chuckled. “Not so stupid. It doesn’t hurt the way it used to. I have to be careful not to overdo it, and I get massages to help keep the blood flowing. When things get bad enough, I have meds. Fortunately, it’s much better, although I still get phantom pain now and then where the rest of my leg used to be.”

“I’ve heard of that,” she commented with a nod. Because words seemed inadequate to convince him that his disability didn’t matter, she decided to use her body. Without warning, she moved her hand to the base of his cock and leaned over to suck it into her mouth.

“Ugh,” he bit out above her. A few seconds later, he relaxed against the couch and placed his hand on her head.

She wasted no time, taking him deep into her throat as far as she was able. Her tongue laved the underside of his rod as she sucked. She rolled his tightening balls between thumb and forefinger. Another gasp, followed by a groan, punctuated the rippling of his abs against her head. The angle was awkward, leaving her strained and frustrated that she couldn’t work his cock and balls as well as she wanted. Releasing him briefly, she slid off the couch and knelt between his open thighs. She was careful not to brush his stump as she pressed her torso across his lap and swirled her tongue around the smooth head of his cock.

She murmured her delight when a pearl of pre-cum peeked out. Licking it up, she took the hard length back into her mouth. One hand worked the base of the cock while the other continued to minister to his ever-tightening sac. Both of Aidan’s hands caressed the top of her head, his voice urging her on with low-voiced praise. His stomach heaved with increasingly harsh breaths as his climax built.