Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“I got injured on a mission.” My mouth is dry. “Two years ago.”
“Was it serious?” she asks, concerned. “I didn’t hear about it, usually, Maisie tells me if something went south on a mission.”
“She dinnae know,” I say. “No one knows but the people with me, Kai and Mason. And my father.”
Carefully resting her hand on my stomach, light as a butterfly’s wing, she asks, “What happened?”
Chuckling mirthlessly, “Who knows? It could have been our feckup. Or the squad of Don Montero’s men being a little too early.
At any rate, we were caught up in a firefight.
I pulled Mason behind an overturned car when he got shot and some stupid bastard with an AK-47 let loose.
I ended up with eleven bullets in my leg. ”
“Which one?” Her hands are on my thighs now, gently patting them. I’m not sure if she knows she’s doing it.
“My left. We got out, Mason and Kai did their best, but… everything below my knee was a mess. The surgeon they called in was considered the best rehabilitative surgeon in Europe. He had to amputate my calf and foot.”
Feck. Her eyes are glinting silver with tears but she keeps any expression off her face. No pity. “And you kept it a secret for two years.” She absently pats my leg again. “Is that why when we have sex, you’re always dressed?”
“Aye.”
“Can I see?” Still, no pity.
“Aye.”
Pausing, she looks me in the eye. “Thank you. For trusting me with this.” Pulling down my pants, she slides them carefully over my knees and then gets them off my feet.
The prosthetic gleams, silver and flesh-color in the dim light.
Her finger delicately traces down the complex pattern of Celtic prose covering my thigh, and continuing down my prosthetic, connecting the two parts of me together. “This ink is beautiful.”
“My father did it. I’d no idea how much talent the man had with a needle.” I put my arm behind my head, watching her. My heart isn’t pounding, no self-disgust curling in my gut.
Her fingers lightly brush over the puckered skin below my knee. “Your skin is inflamed.”
“Aye, it’s part of it.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes,” I say. “When I’m very tired or another injury is flaring up, I might limp a wee bit.”
“I’ve never seen you limp.” She looks up at me, eyes clear on mine, no shock or disgust. “Could I massage your leg for you?”
“Another time, perhaps.” Reaching down, I pull the release mechanism and take the prosthetic off. Bare, red, puckered skin shows. Still, her expression dinnae change. “Are ye still in the mood for endorphin therapy, Sophie girl?”
Despite the seriousness of this moment, she grins at me. The same saucy one as before. “Yes. This is an important medical treatment.”
I’d waited for shock or surprise, disgust, maybe. She looks at me exactly the way she did before. Holding my arms out, “C’mere.”
I slide my fingers up her thighs, under her knickers and she’s wet and soft for me. The softest touch, my thumb circling her clit and she’s ready. Holding my cock, I kiss her. “Climb on, my good girl.”
Blushing hard enough that I can see it in the dim lighting, she does as I hook a finger in her knickers, pulling them aside so she can slide down on me.
“Ohhh… this part,” she sighs. “The best.” Her nails dig into my shoulders as she slowly wraps her snug pussy around me, not stopping until I feel the soft skin of her arse against my balls.
“Move for me,” I urge her, holding on to her waist, lifting her a bit. “You’re gonna make me come too fast if ye stay like this, gripping me tight.”
She puts her hands on my face, leaning in to kiss me as I hoist her up and down on my cock. The feel of her stiff nipples rubbing against my chest makes me groan.
“So good inside ye,” I whisper, lightly biting her neck. “Sweet, and tight. Wet and warm.” Pushing on her lower back, she arches against me and my piercing presses hard against her front.
“Oh, husband,” she groans drunkenly. “So good. I can feel you clear up to my throat.”
I chuckle, which bounces her a bit on my cock and she lets out a hoarse little cough. “I dinnae think that’s possible, but…” Pushing on her back again, I press my hand against her stomach. “I felt myself in your throat.” I put her hand under mine, against her skin. “I can feel me here, too.”
Her eyes open wide as she gasps. “That’s- oh, my god, that’s-” She comes, her cunt gripping me tight, rippling around my cock as I circle her clit with my thumb, pressing hard, dragging her orgasm out.
Flipping her on to her back, I move over her, thrusting harder now, groaning toward my own release. “Shite, I’m not wearing a condom, I’ll pull out.”
“Don’t.” Sophie blurts as her legs tighten around me. “Come inside me. I want to feel you.”
Throwing back my head, I nearly black out from the avalanche of sensation.
The velvet grip of her pussy, thighs tight against my hips and breasts pressing against me.
My wife’s soft words. I erupt, flooding her with heat, feeling her clamp down on me again.
We stay together, not moving, not knowing where one of us begins and the other ends.
“Michael?” She slips her hand out from under mine on her stomach.
“Hmm?”
“Do you…?” Her warm hand rests on top of mine, now.
“Do I what, love?”
“Nothing,” she murmurs. “I’m just happy.”
“So am I,” I say, kissing her gently.