Unbroken

by Aria Ford

  “Uh, here we are,” I said with a giggle. “I recently redecorated the bathroom…” I knew I was talking to cover my awkwardness and I guess he knew too, because he didn’t say anything. I turned around, hair swinging, and looked at him.

  He smiled at me. He was leaning against the wall, the crutches clenched so tight that I could see the white knuckles under the skin. It was his eyes that drew me in, though, soft and blue. They started at my feet and traveled up my body, making me tingle fiercely. I could feel his eyes studying my body, lingering at legs and breasts and thighs. It was almost like he touched me.

  “Margo,” he said. His voice was rough and grating and low with need and it set my whole body on fire.

  “Jay.”

  My own voice was tight and low, and I felt chills go through me as he reached out. I was standing close now, close enough for his fingers to just brush my side.

  I allowed myself to do what I wanted to. I stepped toward him and pressed my body into his. I could feel that hard, muscled chest under his shirt, his narrow waist and the hard thigh of his left leg. I pressed close, letting my body mold against his where I could also feel a telltale bulge in his trousers and I pressed against it, loving the way it felt when it rubbed against me.

  “Oh, baby,” he moaned. “I want you.”

  I sighed. My whole body was glowing and shivering. I could barely think for how much I wanted him.

  “I want you too,” I said. I meant it.

  He kissed my hair. Gently, he cupped my face in one big, muscled palm.

  “You’re so lovely,” he whispered.

  I shivered. My whole body was throbbing as his touch worked its magic on me. I wanted him so much it hurt.

  “Come on,” I swallowed.

  I wriggled loose from his grip and led him through to the bedroom.

  I stood in the doorway, hearing him lean the crutches against the wall as he sat down heavily on the bed. I heard him say my name again.

  “Margo.”

  I turned quickly away and joined him on the bed. My body was trembling. He reached over and kissed me hungrily, his tongue licking, stroking, exploring me. I felt like waves of fire were flooding me. His hand rested on my thigh and traced higher, so that his fingers flicked my panties. I gasped.

  He smiled.

  “Stop…teasing,” I gasped. The way he touched me wasn’t fair. I was melting as his hand squeezed me, fingers stroking the lace undies.

  He grinned. “Okay.”

  He moved his hands then, reaching to unfasten my dress. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to focus on the sweet sensation as he stroked down, unzipping me and gently rolling me to the side so he could work the dress down to my hips. I opened my eyes as he stared down at me.

  His gaze was so admiring, so tender, that my heart thumped. He was staring at my breasts, held by the tight push-up bra, a mix of wonder and need in his eyes.

  I rolled over, moving my body to show myself to best advantage.

  He chuckled. “Does that come off?”

  “Find out,” I said.

  I let the dress slide down my legs and slip off my feet.

  He leaned down and gently reached behind me, unclasping my bra. I sighed as he worked it off my hands. He stared down at me.

  “Margo, you’re just amazing.”

  I grinned. His eyes on my body were almost as pleasurable as a touch, starting at my waist and traveling up to my breasts, lingering there. He seemed to be torturing himself, just sitting looking at me. Then he reached out and gently worked my panties down off my ankles. He let them drop onto the floor.

  I heard him shift on the bed and then he reached down and gently put his hand on my thigh. Leaning forward, his other hand cupped my breast, and I sighed as he gently teased my nipple.

  Then he was upon me. His one hand slid between my thighs, stroking me like he had earlier, only now there were no panties there. I sighed and let my thighs gently part as he reached in, his thumb working my clit in a way that made me want to scream.

  I moaned and shuddered and gritted my teeth as his hands worked me, prodding and probing and bringing me so close to climax that I wanted to cry. It was almost agony.

  He changed the direction of the strokes, moving up and down, up and down in a way that shuddered through me like fire. I could feel my wetness rising. I was shivering, my thighs contracting in little spasms as I reached the edge of need.

  “Please, Jay,” I said.

  His grin flared, then faltered. He looked nervous for a moment and I wondered why. Then he started to undress. I was amazed by how quickly he could work pants down over his right leg, but he managed it effortlessly and then he was naked. His legs were visible to the knee. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, turned toward me.

  It was my turn to stare. He was so beautiful. His shoulders were still huge, his biceps rippling in the half-light of the lamp. His waist was sweetly narrow, and I could see the thick, stiff hardness of his cock pressed tight against him.

  He saw me looking and grinned. Then he knelt between my thighs and pushed into me.

  He did it slowly, taking himself in his hand and rubbing the head against me, pushing it against my clit. I sighed as he parted my legs, rubbing himself in my wetness, gently probing me to make sure I was ready for him. Then he knelt between my thighs and entered me.

  I cried out. He was so big, so thick. I had forgotten. And yet, he didn’t hurt me. He pushed into me gently, giving me time. Not that I wasn’t already ready—I was shivering, reining in the climax that was about to crash over me like a thunderstorm.

  I felt him push right into me and groaned as the feeling of fullness flowed through me. Then he pushed out and in again, further and fuller. I was moaning now, pushing against him, letting him rub on all the places that incited that sweet, tickling, throbbing, fiery feeling that was slowly filling me up like a madness, rising through my body, making me shiver and shake and cry…

  I screamed as I came, the ocean crashing through my body and taking my mind to a place of pleasure so intense that it seemed for a moment like I was unconscious.

  He was throbbing and shuddering and pushing and he, too, cried out. He collapsed onto me.

  We lay like that, his arms round me, my arms clasping him, sweat dripping.

  It was much later when he rolled off me. He lay beside me, eyes closed. I thought he was asleep except that his breath was too shallow for that.

  I rolled onto my side.

  “Margo,” he whispered.

  “Jay. That was amazing.”

  “It was.”

  When he opened his eyes, I was astonished to see the depth of tenderness in them. I had been crying and he reached out and stroked a finger down my cheek, messing the neat pathway of a tear.

  He smiled gently. “You always do that.”

  I giggled. “Only with you.”

  “Really?” He sounded confused.

  I grinned. “Really.”

  I was crying, slow, silent tears that made my voice wobble. I couldn’t help it. Lovemaking with him—and that was what it was, real lovemaking—always did that.

  His hand touched mine and I closed my eyes. I couldn’t quite believe how I felt. I was so fond of Jay it sometimes felt as if my heart was one with his. It was crazy.

  I nestled closer and wrapped my arm around him, feeling his breath beside me. I felt as if we hadn’t lain like this for so long, and yet it was as if we’d been doing this, unbroken, since four years ago. It felt natural.

  “Margo,” he said again, very softly.

  Then he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jay

  I woke up warm and happy. I was confused a second, then remembered. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, feeling warmth flood me.

  Margo was lying beside me.

  I opened my eyes and let them focus on her face. Her warm body was against me and the feeling of her breast, just pressing my side, was already arousing me. I felt
my cock tense as I let my fingers stray down, brushing the soft, cool skin of her leg. She was lying on her side and I felt every point of contact as if it lit a fire inside of me.

  “Margo?”

  She opened her eyes. I smiled as she focused on my face. I saw the lids flutter open and she focused with some surprise. Then, to my surprise, she smiled.

  “Mm,” she said. She rolled over onto her back with a fluid grace that made my loins tense, stretching long arms over her head. She smiled, a sleepy grin.

  “Good morning,” I whispered. By my reckoning, it Tuesday. I guessed she should be at work.

  “Mm,” she said again. She rolled into me and I sighed, letting my arms hold her close.

  I moved to kiss her, and she looked into my eyes and then closed hers again as she gently parted her lips for my kiss. I sighed and pushed my tongue into the warmth of her mouth, feeling my body become aroused as she leaned against me. I could feel her warm, soft breasts, her gently rounded belly, her thighs. I let my hand stray between them and she gasped.

  “I’ll be late for work,” she said reproachfully as I stroked her, noticing with sudden pleasure that she was wet. I let my fingers slip in her warm folds, reaching for the throbbing hardness between them.

  “Jay, oh!” She snapped her eyes open, giving me a look that was a mix of wildness and indignation.

  I chuckled. With reluctance I moved my hand.

  “Okay, okay.”

  She rolled onto her back. “I have to go to the gym,” she said woodenly.

  I smiled.

  “I understand,” I said. I was aching for her, but I guessed I could manage to restrain myself. Just because I was on holiday, didn’t mean she was. I sighed and rolled away, sitting up.

  Looking down at her where she lay, the coverlet over her breasts modestly, was probably not the smartest idea I ever had. I wanted her. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth and tried to convince my groin that it was nothing to do with this picture. It didn’t work.

  “Jay,” she murmured, rolling over and looking into my eyes. “I know we only have a week…”

  I sighed. She was right. Weird how I’d managed to forget that. But even so, I wasn’t going to mess things up by throwing off her schedule.

  “I know,” I said softly. “But I don’t want to ruin your day.”

  She laughed. “Believe me, that wouldn’t. But I get the point.”

  She sat up and rolled over, grinning at me as she slid her naked self out.

  I stared as she walked round the bed and to the doorway that led to the bathroom. Her round buttocks rose and fell, oscillating gently as she walked. Her long legs ended in sweet, pink-flushed feet, small for her height. I watched her walk into the bathroom, turn and smile at me, then shut it.

  I lay back and tried not to think about what her body looked like, pale and flushed a little where the hot water ran over it, her breasts full and the nipples big under the moist drops…

  “Jay, come on.”

  I slid out of bed and looked for my clothes—we’d left them scattered about on the floor that night.

  While I looked at the clock—it was twenty past eight, and I reckoned I should let myself out as soon as possible—I planned my day. I should get home and try not to tell anyone where I’d been. Check emails. Work out. I had a meeting with my boss when I got back to prepare for too.

  I reached for my crutches where I’d propped them against the wall and set about finding my clothes.

  I’m a mess.

  My irritation with my leg was stronger this morning. I always felt annoyed with it, but now, thinking of Margo seeing it, I hated the thing.

  It had been one thing last night, when I could spend most of the time ignoring the fact that the lower half of my right leg was paralyzed. Sitting on the bed, or kneeling in the sweet space between her thighs, it didn’t matter so much that my right shin was immobile. This morning, in the cold light of day, I was desperate for Margo not to see it. The muscle had withered considerably, leaving it a pale, skinny travesty of a leg compared with the other.

  “Jay?” a sweet voice called just as I bent forward to accomplish the impossible task of lifting my underpants out from under her desk.

  I whipped around and almost fell over. I gripped the desk, braced myself and hauled myself upright. I reddened, feeling humiliation lash at me.

  “Dammit,” I hissed. “Don’t do that.”

  She went pale. Her sweet mouth dropped into a confused “o” shape. In any other situation it would have made me ache to kiss her. Now, I just wanted to cry.

  There I was, naked, my right foot off the floor, my whole body braced on my shoulders. I couldn’t balance properly, not without shifting around a bit.

  “Sorry, Jay,” she said softly. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted coffee?”

  “No. Thank you.” I managed to get the words out. Dammit, my voice was wobbling. I tried to focus, biting my lip to bring myself back to the present moment.

  “Oh. Just asking.” She blinked, sounding hurt. Naked, she reached for her bathrobe and headed to the kitchen.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding. Now she was gone, I could drop to my knees and scrabble the underwear out from under the table.

  I completed the undignified maneuver and got dressed. That, too, was slow and undignified. I had to drag myself to the bed, pull my body onto it and then lace the pants over my insensate leg, drawing them up past the knee. I was blessed, they said, that I had feeling in the thigh. Somehow, the nerve hadn’t been severed, only severely damaged. I sighed. I knew how lucky I was, but all the same, it hurt.

  I pulled on the underpants, reaching for my trousers. Once I’d gotten them on, I felt better. The horrible thing was out of sight. I put on my socks, hating the way it felt to put socks on over that cold, dead foot. I noticed it was lined with bruises—it’s not easy not to bruise a foot you are unaware of. It was a mess.

  I slid my foot to the end of the bed and shrugged into my shirt. My crutches were leaning on the chair. I leaned on the wall and shuffled across to get to them, then, feeling supported again, swung my way to the kitchen.

  Margo heard me and turned around.

  I tensed.

  She smiled.

  I breathed out. With the morning light making a flame of her hair, her smile big and gentle, she was so, so lovely. She was wearing a dark satin bathrobe and it clung to her breasts, at once revealing and concealing. I felt my loins throb.

  She is so beautiful. I’m a beast.

  “Hey, Jay,” she smiled. “You sure you don’t want coffee? Or breakfast? We maybe could…”

  “I’m fine,” I grunted. I didn’t know why, but I felt so exposed this morning. I couldn’t exactly have expected, or said, why being in her house alone with her made me feel like my leg was so much more obvious. In the restaurant, in public, I guess there was a lot to look at. Here, alone in the apartment, there was, well, just me. And my crutches. And my useless leg.

  “Okay,” she said again, looking surprised. “Well,” she added, coming over. She walked closer and pressed her body against mine, wrapping her arms around me.

  I was supported on the crutches and I couldn’t lift my arms to hold her—not without overbalancing and looking ridiculous. I clenched my teeth.

  “I should go,” I said softly.

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  She stepped back, and I understood, with a sinking feeling, that expression. It was disappointment.

  I closed my eyes. Not for the first time that morning, I felt like crying. She was disappointed in me.

  “I’ll let myself out,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. I turned with what dignity I could summon and limped out of the door, swinging myself on my strong arms, bad leg trailing.

  I was at the front door when she caught up.

  “Jay!” she said. She sounded exasperated. “Wait up! Aren’t you going to say goodbye? Here, let me unlock that…”

  “I can let myself ou
t,” I said thickly. I let her open the door anyway, though, and then swung out toward the lift. I stopped and turned, looking back at her.

  She was standing in the door, eyes wide, glossed with feeling.

  I bit my lip. “I’ll see you,” I managed tightly. Then, I turned away and shifted my weight onto my left leg, freeing up my right arm to press the button for the elevator. When it arrived, I swung in and turned around just in time to see her disappear inside. Her face was pale, eyes round.

  “Just as well,” I said to myself. I caught a brief glimpse of my reflection—white face, big eyes with red rims. I looked away. Self-loathing was never far away, and I hated elevators—one place I could barely get away from the mirror.

  I waited impatiently to reach the ground floor and then braced myself, swinging out into the hallway.

  “Morning, sir,” the doorman called.

  I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes a moment, not wanting to see the confused, pitying expression on his face.

  “Good morning,” I ground out.

  Then I swung out into the car park. I realized as I got there that Margo had brought me here last night, and that I had no way of getting back from here. I had to act fast, before she remembered too, and, leaning on the wall, I reached into my pocket for my phone to call a taxi.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Margo

  I stood in my kitchen, feeling like my heart had just hit the floor. I could smell coffee and shower gel and warm air and all the things that made mornings happy and peaceful. But somehow, I couldn’t feel anything.

  “Dammit,” I said harshly.

  I sat down at the kitchen table, feeling like the roof had fallen on me. My coffee was ready, spiraling traces of steam up to the ceiling. But I didn’t feel like drinking it. Inside I could still feel the sweet, warm postcoital ache, and I was glowing. But I was also sad. And confused.

  Hell, Jay. You could not have rushed out of here.

  I knew it was silly, but it had badly upset me. It was the first time I’d been with him in years. It wasn’t like he’d actually explained his disappearance, now that I thought about it. He had just walked into my life, spent the night, disappeared.