by E. S. Carter
“I never said I was ordinary.”
“Ordinary is not a word anyone could use when talking about you. You’re extraordinary, and you’re coming home with me. So let’s go and tell your folks and we can be on our way.”
Her eyes lock with mine and a multitude of emotions pass over her beautiful face before she speaks again. “When I was younger and had my first crush on a boy, a boy that didn’t even know I existed, my mother told me that it was for the best, that if he didn’t notice me, it was a sign. She said that I should never give my love to anyone who makes me feel ordinary. I’ve waited my whole life to be someone’s extraordinary.”
I lean down, my lips hover over hers, our eyes still locked on each other. “You’re my extraordinary, Lilah. I’m not sure if that’s a sign, but it says it all for me.” Then I kiss her, gently, reverently and with all the words I want to say, but now isn’t the right time to say them. Instead, I pour those words into our kiss.
I’m in love with you, Bunny Girl.
Be my extraordinary.
Nate’s apartment is twice the size and ten times more luxurious than my place.
Two officers chaperoned us to the building and have taken up residence in the foyer until they have Wayne in custody.
I don’t think he’ll try anything again, but then, I didn’t think he was capable of what he’s already done. I want him locked away for a long, long time.
In fact, they can throw away the key for all I care.
“Earth to Lilah.”
Harry’s voice breaks into my silent perusal of our surroundings, and I turn to look into his handsome face.
“I’m running you a bath, thought you might like a soak in the tub while I order in some food. Chinese okay with you?”
His thoughtfulness and eagerness to return to some type of normalcy is all it takes for the floods to open. I choke back a sob, my tears threatening to overflow, “Can you just hold me for a little while?”
He’s in front of me in a heartbeat, his strong arms wrapping around my waist and drawing me towards the warmth of his chest.
“I can hold you for however long you want.” He whispers into my hair, his arms tightening their grip on my body.
I all but collapse into his embrace, letting his strength hold us both up while I feel like I’m coming apart.
“I’m sorry,” I hiccup into his now sodden t-shirt. “I just…”
“Shh, don’t apologise. It’s not a sign of weakness to cry, Lilah. If anything, it’s a sign of strength. Bottling things up is how people become weak. I should know.”
His strong hands smooth up and down my back, making me sink further into his embrace. I want to melt into him, become one with his skin, live inside his warmth.
“Make love to me, Harry.”
I don’t even think; I just say the words I feel, the words that my voice has ached to release.
His hands still, the soothing stroke up and down my spine stops.
Will he reject me? Have I just fucked everything up?
His hands begin, once again, to gently caress my back. “I want nothing more than to make love to you, but I’m worried I’d be taking advantage of you when all you need is comfort. I’m not going anywhere, Lilah, and the first time I make you mine is something I want you to always remember because I know I will never be able to forget it.”
I pull away from him so I can look him in the eye, and he can see the truth of just how much I need him this way. “That’s one of the many reasons I want, no I need you to make love to me right now. I want to always remember too; I want you to take away this day and replace it with something beautiful. Replace it with us.”
Please don’t reject me again. I’ve just laid myself bare to you.
He shudders out a breath, his striking grey eyes staring deep into mine and I focus on that ring of deep blue around his iris that seems to darken by the second. I see the moment he decides he’s not going to hold back, his eyelids drop ever so slightly, desire taking over his thoughtful frown, and then his lips are on mine. The kiss is gentle at first, almost like he’s using his soft lips to memorise every crease of mine. I feel every sweep of his mouth, right down to my toes, even on the foot that I no longer have, that’s how consuming his touch is.
Without deepening the kiss, he pulls back and his lust-glazed eyes open to take in my features. The desire that was there before has morphed into an all-out inferno and that one look registers low in my belly.
“God, you’re perfect.”
He says the words as if they are just a thought in his brain, not a vocalisation leaving his plump lips. I love when he speaks without knowing he’s giving a voice to his thoughts.
“Take me to your bed, Harry.” My voice sounds nothing like me. It’s raw and laced with obvious lust.
I don’t need to ask again as in one fluid movement I am scooped up into his arms and carried purposefully towards the bedroom, his mouth crashes down on mine, consuming any further rational thoughts.
When he pulls away, I open my kiss dazed eyes to a sparsely decorated bedroom, and we are standing at the foot of an unmade double bed.
Harry notices my observation and clears his throat, “I… umm… only moved in this morning. Haven’t had a chance to unpack yet.”
I stare at his earnest face, and the sheepish smile he gives me kick starts my libido. “Let’s christen your new bed. Call it a moving in celebration.”
His smiles turns into to a full blown, knicker-melting grin, “You’re something else, Delilah Chastity Tremere.” Then his mouth is on mine once more, as he slowly lays me down on the centre of the bed.
His lips move from mine, to my jaw, then to that soft spot behind my ear, before travelling deliciously slow down my neck.
A tight white t-shirt covers my now heaving breasts, and he nips and licks around the scoop neckline, leaving open-mouthed kisses over every inch of exposed skin. I feel as though I’m burning up, and I’m seconds away from clawing his clothes off, but before I can, he straddles my waist and knees Ally-tastic in the process, immediately breaking the spell that’s been woven between us.
“Shit, I’m sorry… did I hurt you?”
His firm chest brushes my breasts with every breath. His moist, kiss-swollen lips hover mere inches from mine and I want to scream ‘kiss me more, touch me more, feel me more’, but I don’t because I can see this might be the part where he freaks out and remembers I’m the girl with one leg.
I blink and steel myself for the inevitable rejection, “No, you didn’t hurt me, but it’s probably best if I take her off.”
“Her?” His forehead furrows in confusion.
“Ally-tastic, my umm… my fake leg. She’s a… she.”
My next heartbeat feels like it takes too long, until he breaks into a huge smile and laughs, his warm breath skating over my skin.
“She’s a she? You crack me up, Bunny Girl.” He places a sweet kiss on the tip of my nose and rolls off me onto his back. I feel the loss of his body immediately and a cold shiver skates down my spine.
When I don’t begin to move, he props himself up on his elbow and leans across to trace the seam of my lips. “What are you waiting for, Bunny Girl?” His sexy grin creates butterflies in my stomach, but they aren’t strong enough to fight off the nerves that dominate my body.
His eyes drop to my leg and then back to my face, “I can give you some privacy if you want...” I interrupt him mid-sentence, “No!” My hand shoots out to catch his, “I’m sorry, what I meant to say was, don’t leave, I’m just having a funny five minutes, it’s just that…” I trail off not sure how to put into words the fear that bubbles inside.
A soft hand cups my cheek, bringing my gaze back to his. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, don’t ever feel like you need to shy away from me. I want you. I want all of you. I want every piece of you that you are willing to share with me.”
God. This man, he’s… perfect. Perfect to me. Perfect for me.
I swallow down my nerves
, laying my hand over his, “Before I share this with you I want you to understand that I know you’re not him.”
He doesn’t reply but doesn’t take his eyes off me and I use this as a sign to carry on.
“He’s the only man I’ve been with and it’s hard for me to accept that the way he reacted to my body isn’t going to be the way that you react.”
He opens his mouth to speak, and I silence him by placing the tips of my fingers to his mouth.
“We were only ever intimate in the dark, and he always made sure the bottom half of my body was covered with the bed sheets so that he didn’t have to…” I stumble on my words, this admission something I’ve never shared with anyone before. “So that he didn’t have to look at my stump.”
I’m mortified that I have to share this with him and maintaining eye contact, when I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks, is impossible. “He said I repulsed him, that I made him feel physically sick.” I look back into his handsome face and catch anger burning behind his eyes. “I… don’t, what I mean is…”
“Stop. Look at me Lilah, really look at me.”
His anger is replaced by what sounds like sadness. Is this the part where he finally tells me he can’t do this? That I sicken him?
“I am not him, and you, you are so incredibly beautiful that I feel like I may just burst if I don’t get to see every inch of you; if I don’t get to worship every inch of you. Don’t ever hide from me, Bunny Girl. I see all of you; I see everything that makes you the most spectacular woman I have ever met.”
He means it; he means every word.
“Spectacular, hey?”
His thumb gently traces my cheekbone, “What can I say? I think I may have swallowed a dictionary because I have many more words like astonishing, magnificent, wondrous and remarkable that I could and will use to describe you, but most of all, you’re breathtaking. You took my breath that very first day, and I don’t want it back; I finally have air in my lungs, because of you.”
Then he kisses me like he’s using his very last breath to do so.
“He said I repulsed him, that I made him feel physically sick.”
Hearing those words come out of Lilah’s mouth and seeing the self-loathing, the doubt in herself and her embarrassment at sharing what she had endured, tore me up inside. I wanted to kill him; I wanted to make him feel every ounce of hurt that he ever inflicted on her, but I wanted to soothe her pain more.
This girl, this beautiful, spunky, unique girl, needs to see what I see when I look at her. So instead of getting angry, I kiss her.
I kiss her until my lungs scream for air and then I lay softer kisses over every inch of her body until I get to her legs.
I trail both hands over her hips and down her thighs, my left hand continues its journey to her knee, then her shin, while my right hand caresses the skin just above her prosthetic. Back and fore, back and fore. Letting her know that this part of her doesn’t disgust me.
“I’ll just… take her off; you don’t have to…” Her voice is soft, but the tremor in it is unmistakable.
“I don’t have to, but I want to.” I keep up the gentle stroke of my fingers and lift my eyes to hers. “Show me all of you, Lilah. Let me love all of you.”
She holds my gaze for a beat, then pulls herself up to a sitting position and with shaky hands begins to remove the part of her she calls ‘Ally-tastic’.
I don’t watch the movements of her hands; I watch her face. I notice the tremble of her lower lip as she finds the strength to bare herself to me.
When her eyes lock with mine, she leans over the side of the bed and props Ally-tastic against the wall, before slowly rising back into her sitting position.
“Take off your shirt.” My words are hoarse, the tone in my voice betraying how in control I am.
My beautiful, brave girl blinks once slowly then reaches her hands down to the hem of her white t-shirt, before peeling it up her body and exposing more of her milky white skin. I track its movements, my eyes first devouring the soft roundness of her stomach and her cute little ‘outy’ button, then her ribs, until she finally pulls it up over her head. I swear my eyes bug out when I see her perfect, full tits, encased in simple white cotton. No lace, no frills, just soft, heaving bosoms, all but spilling out of the most basic, yet sexiest bra I have ever seen.
I mutter out a curse; I’m trying to go slow and worship her, but my cock is screaming at me just to take her. I’m so consumed by her that my usual body image issues, or should I say Davidson issues, haven’t even entered my head. My dick is rock hard and begging to be let loose and when she reaches around her back and undoes the clasp of her bra, I all but come in my pants like a pimply teenager getting his first taste of a cock film.
Her full, firm tits are topped with rosy pink nipples, a smattering of freckles across the tops of her breasts are like little crumbs that my tongue wants to trace. “Fuck me; your tits are divine.”
Yes, I said that out loud, the reason I know I did is because Lilah lets out a little snort and I drag my eyes away from the prize to see her smiling face, flushed with arousal but more confident than I have ever seen her.
“Fuck me; you’re beautiful. Take off your skirt. I want to see if you have little cotton knickers on that match that sex-errific bra.”
Her blush deepens further, “I’m not sure there is anything sexy about my underwear, and my knickers are bigger than Bridget Jones’ granny pants.”
“I don’t know who she is, and I’m not interested in seeing her knickers. So, take off that long skirt, Bunny Girl and show me yours.”
Her hands shake as they unbutton the side of her skirt and slide down the zip, my eyes leave hers to track the movement and I watch as she hesitantly hooks her fingers in the waist and slowly pushes the fabric down her body. At the first glimpse of matching white cotton, I fist my hands at my sides, eager to take over and strip her bare. My mouth waters, wondering what she tastes like, wanting, no needing to slide my tongue over the soft cotton and then slip it beneath.
Lower and lower, her hands work her skirt, and she lifts her arse up a little to shimmy the fabric further down her thighs. Then she stops. Her hands are trembling so much that I have to reach out and still them.
“Don’t.” I hold her shaking fists in mine, before prising the fabric from her grasp. “Don’t hide from me, Lilah.”
She slowly uncurls her fingers, and I resume the removal of her skirt.
Her thighs are firm, encased in silky smooth, pale skin. One side of her skirt falls away around mid-thigh, revealing the part of her that she has tried so hard to keep hidden. The part of her that her prick of an ex tried to use to humiliate her. The recent surgery has left the skin looking sore and pinkish red, and I react without over thinking. My left hand continues to pull the skirt from her other leg while my right delicately brushes the skin above her new scars.
Scars that show just what a fighter my girl is. They don’t make her weak; they make her the strongest person I’ve ever met, stronger than me and my worries over some fake balls, stronger than any woman I’ve ever been lucky enough to undress and in turn, they make her the sexiest woman I’ve ever undressed.
I continue the movement of my fingertips against her skin but raise my eyes to hers. Her brown orbs penetrate me, they overflow with a mixture of anxiety, shame but also desire.
“You’re perfect.” I lean forward and kiss her belly button. “Beautiful.” Another kiss just below on the curve of her belly. “Strong,” I dip my head lower, trailing my mouth over the top of her white knickers, “soft,” I go lower again, my nose grazing her clit as my mouth kisses directly over her soft flesh, and I breathe in deeply, “and intoxicating.”
Her whole body trembles and I can’t help but smile against her, “I’m going to taste you now, Lilah. Then I’m going to make you mine.”
I take a long, languid lick right up her centre and lean back slightly to observe my handy work. I blow softly on the damp fabric and elicit a deep m
oan from Lilah followed by her arching her back, as she tries to place herself closer to my mouth. I lie down on my stomach and use my shoulders to part her legs while my fingers ghost over the damp cotton, and when she’s writhing about, almost uncontrollably, I drag the fabric to one side and replace my fingers with my tongue. She moans loudly, and I feel her body vibrate against my lips as I feast on her, her thighs tightening against my head, holding me in place. I resist the urge to rub my aching Davidson against the mattress. I fear one hump against the firm surface, and I’ll blow my load. Her taste on my lips is addicting, but it’s the knowledge that I’m making her come undone that has pre-cum dampening my boxers.
“I. Need. You.” Her words are spoken between panting breaths. “Inside, please, Harry. I want you inside me.”
She doesn’t have to beg twice.
My jeans and underwear are off in a flash, and I tug my t-shirt over my head before diving back down for one last lick that sends her hips bucking up from the bed.
I have my cock suited up, and I’m plunging into her tight, warm heat before her lower back even hits the mattress. It’s almost too much, and I tighten my fist around the base of my Davidson, begging him to calm the fuck down.
“Fuuccckk.” I still, looking down over the expanse of her creamy flesh, just begging for my touch. “You feel too good.”
Her nerves have evaporated, only lust remains, the evidence of which is plastered across her face with a smile that says ‘Fuck me, now.’
I’ve not been inside a woman for a long time; I’ve missed the feeling of velvet heat gripping my cock while my fake but eager balls rest against soft flesh. Add this to the fact that I’m inside not just any woman, but Bunny Girl, and I’m about to go off like a rocket.
Calm yourself down, H. Slow and steady wins the race.
I mentally repeat this mantra as I pull out before sliding all the way back in.
My eyes are mesmerised by the sight of us becoming one; of my rock hard cock, glistening with the evidence of her arousal. I give myself another mental slap before I lose it and pound into her like a rutting dog.
