by Christa Wick
"Did I say how amazing that was?” she asked dreamily.
"Mm-hmm, but I can do better," I teased, chewing at her ear. I dipped my pelvis so that my cock, still safely barricaded behind my track pants and briefs, pushed against her slick pussy.
"Oh!" Her greedy hands seized the sides of my waistband. "When are you going to be naked, too?"
If I could avoid it, not at all. The temptation was too great, uncaging my cock would make it even worse. But I didn't want her to surface from the pleasure coursing through her body.
"Patience, baby girl." I started to kiss my way down her body, mouthing and kneading the ample flesh until my head crossed the border line of her belly button. Placing a big palm on her inner thighs, I stretched her wide open.
"Wh-what are you doing now?" she asked, her thighs and mound beginning to quiver.
Mesmerized by the way her pussy danced with anticipation, I was slow to answer. I pushed my face close to her flesh, but not so close I touched the skin. I drew a long breath, sampling the humid, arousing smells of her sex. They were fresh and light even though the clear juices were thick and sticky.
"You want to know what I’m doing?" I teased.
"Yes," she breathed. "I really, really want to know."
I chuckled at her enthusiasm then blew a cold draft of air the length of her pussy. The flesh was colored a dark rose from the blood that infused the capillaries. The hood sheltering her clit was swollen and throbbed with her pulse. Before I answered, I blew another line of air, the flow focused on her thick, aching clit.
"What I’m doing is looking for that flower we were talking about earlier."
A nervous sound escaped her. "Okay."
"Is it here?" I asked then slicking my tongue under the hood, teasing the sensitive flesh it concealed.
Another breathless "oh" and then she said, "maybe."
"Mm-hmm." I buried the whole of her clit with my mouth, my top lip rubbing up and down its spine while my tongue and bottom lip slurped and sucked at the pearl.
The top half of her body tried to levitate off the bed. Her hands wrapped around my skull to hold me in place.
"I think it's there," she rasped. "I really, really do."
Managing to free myself of her strong grip, I snaked my tongue lower—to the source of all that fresh cream that tickled my nose. I ran the tip around the circle of her pussy.
"Could be there, could be here."
My tongue plunged into her, thick and questing. I heard all the air leave her lungs in a whoosh. A sharp cry followed and her mound searched against my face. Bracing my forearms against her thighs and pressing on her mound with both hands, I held her down and splayed.
"Baby, this is mine and you're going to stop wiggling and bucking so much so I can sample every inch of this sweet pussy."
"Oh, yes," she sobbed, needy tears making her blue eyes sparkle. She threw her arms against her face and the instant before my head disappeared between her thighs again, I saw her bite her flesh in search of control.
Teeth, tongue, lips—biting, licking, sucking. I used my whole mouth and more, my thumbs stretching to rub and push and pinch at her thick clit when I wasn't tasting her there.
I wouldn't fuck her with my cock, but my tongue filled her, stroked inside hard and insistent. She spoke like a soul possessed, little kittenish growls ripping through her throat when I intentionally eased the pressure against her sex to no more than a whisper.
Growling back, I devoured her pussy like a man eating his last meal. She was so fucking hot, so sensuous. My cock throbbed with its own, separate pulse that demanded I stop the charade of being a gentleman. I wanted in her, wanted to pound the hot, wet pussy creaming beneath my mouth.
But I kept control, kissed and sucked and licked over and over until she bucked against me, her cream flooding the sheets as she screamed loud and high enough in her pleasure that I was certain the mirror would shatter.
Slowly, I brought her back down to earth. I surged up the bed, hungry for her kisses and the salty taste of the tears she had shed.
"Naked," she demanded, pushing at my track pants. "Please, I know you won't use it, but..."
She drew a ragged breath, her frustration bringing a fresh, wet shimmer to her eyes. "It's not nice to tease a blind girl, you know that, right?"
I barked a laugh. She wasn't pulling any punches.
"Is it nice to spank her when she's being bratty?" I shot back.
I made the mistake of looking at her face. She didn't say a word but her expression told me that something about the idea of my spanking her had cranked her arousal another notch higher.
Yeah, it definitely turned her on.
It turned me on, too, more than I wanted to admit or thought I could control. If she asked me right then to spank her, I would have. And then I would have fucked her—completely.
"Okay, you win, Lace.” I jumped off the bed and quickly stripped the pants and briefs off. "I'm naked, but our deal isn't changing. Do you understand?"
A tantalizing pout shaped her mouth.
"I'm serious, Lacey. Tell me you understand."
She nodded, reluctantly, and then she added. "I understand. But just so you understand, I am touching it."
I grinned, climbing back onto the bed and settling between her legs. Even knowing it was reckless, I pushed the fat head of my cock down and let the hot flesh soak up some of her cream. Then I ran the tip up and down her pussy, teasing the line of her clit, testing the tight seal of her entrance.
She spread her thighs wider, but she was so tight and had my cock so swollen that there was no danger of me slipping in. I pushed just a little, enjoying the throaty moan my teasing drew from her. Then I pulled back and hovered over her voluptuous body.
Her hands sneaked their way between us to touch my shaft.
She gave me another one of those sexy little "oh" sounds that pushed me closer to the edge.
"Is this normal?" she asked almost reverently.
The question checked me for a second, but then I laughed. "Are you talking about the size?"
Her head bobbed and she had to swallow before she could speak. "Yes...it’s so thick and..."
With her palms pressing against the sides she swooped her hands down toward my balls and sighed. "And long—very long."
She bit at that plump, juicy lip and then another blush heated her cheeks. “Also, I don't understand how I can be so wet down there. Is that normal, too?”
"Your pussy?" I teased as I let the length of my shaft settle against her clit. "It's incredibly sexy how wet you are for me, Lacey. It's not something to get embarrassed about. You're meant to get wet like that so it won't hurt if you have a big cock sliding into you."
Another "oh" slipped past her lips and I thought for a second, she might faint on me.
"Do you think you might ever put it in me?" she asked, her tone shy and aching.
I wanted it in her right then, but the rules were clear. "That's not open to discussion tonight, baby. But I can still make you come with it."
Before she could ask for an explanation, I started to rock against her. She was so slick that my erection slid easily between her swollen labia. With her fingers between my cock and my stomach, she molded her grip and her body around its length.
I rocked a little faster, then harder, then slow. She was moaning again, her teeth worrying that bottom lip. Spreading her thighs wide, she dug her heels into the mattress and rocked upward against me, altering our pace until I was slamming through the grip of her labia and hands, my heavy balls slapping against her exposed pussy, battering the exterior of the sensitive flesh.
Sweet, fuckable, beautiful Lacey. She started to come again, her eyes rolling back, the press of her fingers more insistent so that, when her climax hit her full on, I exploded across her stomach at the same time.
Sagging against her, our bodies still humming with a sweet, rocking rhythm, I kissed her neck and lost myself in the light cooing sounds that echoed through her throa
t.
When her sweet murmurs faded completely, I rolled onto my side. She turned toward me. Reaching between us, she secured my hand.
"Will you stay the night in bed with me?"
"Absolutely," I answered.
I had told Lacey that being with her would permanently change me. I could already feel those changes settling into my bones, infusing my blood.
"Just let me get the light." Rolling so my back was to her, I reached for the bedside lamp. Her fingers smoothed across my shoulder blades then down the center of my spine.
The tattoo she touched was intricate. Two battle axes merged into an anchor, the style a network of Viking knots. To Lacey, it probably looked like an inkblot or something from a Rorschach test, what she saw an interpretation, perhaps, of her feelings for me.
"Do you want me to describe it to you?” I asked.
"Maybe one day I'll let you build a picture of the lines," she whispered, her hand trembling as it withdrew. "Tonight, it's enough to touch them."
She traced my back for a long time, her fingers still touching my tattoo as she finally drifted off to sleep.
10
Waking up, I never wanted to let go of Lacey. She fit perfectly in the crook of my arm, her head against my chest and the calm breaths she took as she slept warming my skin. But there were things to do—she still needed to talk to Austin.
Not wanting her to think I had abandoned her when she woke up to find me out of the room, I roused her with a gentle massage and a few strategically placed kisses along her throat and face.
Her eyelids fluttered then her expression widened as she stifled a yawn.
"The sun is up, beautiful," I whispered against her ear. She tried to burrow against me, but I wasn't going to surrender to that sweet temptation. "I'm going to take a quick shower and then start breakfast."
"I'll make breakfast for you," she said, still trying to bury her face against my shoulder.
"You can cook me dinner," I countered, my hand searching for the top of her thighs. I eased my hand between her legs and gave a short squeeze. "You're going to want a long, hot shower to work the kinks out. And you are talking to Austin this morning, remember?"
Neck craning, I watched emotion sweep across her face as I reminded her of the talk she had to have. I caressed her cheek, hoping I could soothe away the anxiety. The way her body molded against me, I figured she was as reluctant to let go as I was.
"You don't have to worry about his answer. Whatever it takes, I'll make sure something is worked out." More words wanted to spill out, like how I would take care of her for as long as she wanted me to if Austin said "no." But I knew he wouldn't deny his sweet little cousin a secure, comfortable future that didn't involve any support—or interference—from her mother.
"I believe you," she answered. "But I want a good morning kiss before you go."
"I couldn't live without one," I confessed before rolling her onto her back. A couple dozen carnal ways to kiss her fluttered through my mind, but I kept it mostly chaste and with only a little lingering. A slow kiss on her lips, a sucking on the hollow of her shoulder, a little bite followed by a soothing lick—all as I slid a little more off the bed.
"French toast with apple maple syrup and a touch of powdered sugar," I promised, knowing it was her absolute favorite breakfast. "And some crispy bacon to aid all those muscles we worked last night."
A wicked grin whipped across her face and I was glad, for a second, that all she could see of me were blocks of light and dark because my cock surged that last little bit to become fully erect.
Lifting her hand from the mattress, I bowed over it and gave her one last kiss before retreating to my room for clothes and then into the kitchen to start breakfast. While I cooked, I texted Austin, reconfirming that he was no longer my employer but also telling him that I was sticking around as long as Lacey wanted my company. I also told him she wanted to see him before the day was over.
He set the time for a late lunch.
When Lacey entered the kitchen half an hour later wearing a white dress with pink sunflowers, I felt so light that I could have floated to the ceiling. She had always been beautiful, her presence uplifting, but she had been holding back the full power that she possessed. The surgery had clouded her thoughts, weighing down her natural exuberance. But all the stress disappeared that morning.
She seemed happier despite how much of her future remained unsettled. Seeing her happier made me happier.
Finished with breakfast, we spent the time close to one another while we waited for the appointment time with Austin to arrive. We sat on the couch for a while, my arm around her shoulder, her face against my neck, the manicured fingers dancing lightly against my chest. We walked the grounds, sunshine soaking into our bones and further lightening our mood.
We didn't talk about the night before or the days ahead of us. I expected her to, but she didn't and I was grateful for that.
I knew what I wanted, what I had long wanted and long denied the truth of. But I also knew it would be too easy to pull her into giving me everything she was. She had experienced so little of the world, even less of it on her own. She had lost most of her sight before she was old enough to be independent. I didn't want her to commit to being tied down at the same time that a whole new world might be opening up to her.
So we talked about everything else, carefully. I didn't talk about the horrors of combat, just the brothers I had made while serving and the family I still had in Tennessee. She didn't tell me about the pain of living under her mother's crushing, but indifferent, thumb. Instead she told me about her father and how Austin had been before he joined the service, getting into more shenanigans than I could have imagined.
We learned about all the positives of our life before we first met and spoke of none of the negatives.
Lunch rolled around and the talk with Austin went exactly as I expected. He promised she would never have to go back to her mother. He even called his trust attorney while we were there, revealing that he already had a fund set up for Lacey in the event of his death. Now he would set the process in motion so that she could draw what she needed while he was still alive.
She waited until the following morning before she called her doctor and scheduled the surgery a week out. Then we waited together for that day to roll around.
11
The surgery came and went.
It was never expected to be a fast or even a predictable recovery; we all knew that going in. After the surgery, the bandages had to stay on for an entire week to avoid overstimulating the eye while the optic nerves healed. That meant no post-op tests, no way of knowing anything.
It was the longest damn week of my life.
Waiting. Wondering. Hoping. Worrying.
Preparing.
For whatever outcome.
And I know it was infinitely harder for Lacey.
She didn't want anyone but me to take her to that follow-up appointment. She had a death grip on my hand as she sat on the examining table, the doctor side-eying me as he navigated around my bulk to remove all the wrapping.
Before he unwound the last length, he told Lacey to keep her eyes closed until he directed her to open them. I had a few seconds to look at her face. There were sutures at the outer corner of each eye. Faint bruises ringed the lids, most of them already yellowing.
"It looks horrible, doesn't it?" she whispered and squeezed my hand a little harder.
"No, baby. It's almost all healed." It wasn't an outright lie. Seeing it made me hurt for her, but she wasn't any less beautiful to me. She could never be anything other than beautiful to me.
"I'll know in a second if you're fibbing," she said.
She was wrong.
The doctor told her to slowly open her eyes. She complied, lifting the lids so slowly that a snail could have run laps around her.
Once the lids were fully open, the determined line of her mouth collapsed and I knew.
Lacey couldn't see anything.
> The doctor droned his reassurances.
"It's to be expected when the bandages first come off, Miss Long."
The read I had on his face told me the total lack of sight was a bad sign. Before the surgery, she had been able to see at least a little—blocks of grey and black and white with a whisper of tint in stronger lights.
Now…nothing.
Finished flashing his little light at her, the doctor grabbed his clipboard and scribbled along a sheet of paper.
"I'm ordering a scan for you to complete before you go home today. You'll also need to schedule an appointment for two weeks from now, with a scan the morning of the next appointment, before you see me."
Her dark blond brows danced for a second at the doctor's poor choice of words.
"Well," she said, once we were home and curled up on the couch. "At least now you can see my blue eyes again."
Her mouth trembled and her voice wavered when she spoke, but she was done crying about her sight.
She leaned into me and I tilted her head up for a kiss.
"Yes, baby, I can," I agreed, "and that's all I'll ever need."
The doctor had been quite explicit about Lacey not exerting herself the first week post-surgery. She had been equally explicit before leaving his office at that second post-surgery visit on whether the prohibition was lifted.
"Let's wait until today's scans are back," he had cautioned.
His answer and the three-day wait for the results had frustrated her, but the restrictions were modified from no exertion to light exertion. That left things a little weird between Lacey and me. I had been happy for the prohibition. While I spent every night in her bed, no more than light petting had occurred since our first night together.
I wanted more, and her tricky fingers tried to tease me out of my gentlemanly ways, but I held my ground. We needed to wait for the full results. Then she needed to decide what she wanted from me.
No matter how clumsily I phrased the need to wait, she never accused me of trying to keep my distance so I could abandon her later. But I could sometimes see the worry in the way her mouth quirked or how her shoulders tensed. I did everything beyond renewing our sexual intimacy that I could to ease her unspoken fear.
