Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Grayson shut the door of his quiet home devoid of many personal touches. He wasn’t one much for decorating. It was enough work to clean his space, though he managed with extending poles for things he couldn’t reach. Most of his appliances stood at around his height when sitting in his chair, but many things he needed to plant his feet on the floor and stretch to get.
Although he considered himself lucky for his independence, he wanted to share his space with a woman. One who would fill the rooms with anything she wanted to make it her own and leave traces of her perfumes and lotion in every corner so he could feel her wherever he went.
He stopped at his reflection in the mirror, wondering for a moment if it bothered Helena. She hadn’t seemed to notice when they’d first locked eyes with one another, though it was common if he was sitting at a table. The usual look of shock on people’s faces when he pulled out, revealing his disability never changed. But Helena didn’t seem the least bit concerned, if anything, she’d appeared to be petrified of saying the wrong thing.
Grayson was confident enough to not let that offend him, understanding most people did not have experience with someone with a disability. What seemed to usually scandalize people was when he explained how he was perfectly able to support himself, though recognizing not everyone in his situation had that same privilege.
He undid the Velcro fastenings of his dress shirt, as buttons were slightly too difficult for his one hand to maneuver and pulled it over his head. His intricate tattoos looked back at him. Grayson had seen how she eyed them beneath his collar, and the way her pink tongue darted from behind her lips. She had delicate hands. What would they feel like tracing his body art? Would she pull away when she felt his many surgical scars?
Bending up one knee at a time, he tugged off his shoes. He lifted his hips to tease his pants off, where his large hip scar peeked above his boxers. Despite being over fifteen years earlier, he remembered that surgery well, and the eight-week recovery cast he was put into afterward. Still, his thighs were tense on either side of the pommel of his chair. He reached and pulled it down, massaging his inner thigh muscles.
Grayson made his way into his large bedroom, specifically arranged for him to easily maneuver from place to place.
It was dull and gray, lacking in personal touches, but it was comfortable.
He braced his hands on his empty bed and planted his feet down onto the floor, turning himself around and allowing himself to fall back onto the sheets.
Sighing in relief, he was finally able to stretch his tight joints, but he couldn’t get Helena out of his mind. His phone pinged with her name, letting him know she was safely home. He smiled and replied.
Good girl.
Grayson knew full well what he was doing. She felt it, he was sure.
Never had a pull been so strong with a woman. Especially a submissive. But he could tell her first instinct was to make things easy for him, like opening doors, or carrying things for him. Grayson would show her that he could do all those things for her and more, provided he earned her trust.
He scowled as he thought back to how frightened she’d looked when that man was harassing her. How she’d shrunk so small. It was a risk to involve himself, but it had worked.
Her eyes lit up when she smiled, and he knew he wanted to see more of that.
Grayson reached down and released himself from the stretchy material and gave his cock a pull. He sucked air through his teeth and his body twitched in response. He was already getting worked up. Grayson gave himself another pull and watched the glob of precum weep from his tip. Spreading it around with his finger, he allowed his body to completely relax as thoughts of her swirled around his head. She’d worn her hair in a bun that he wanted wound in his fist, tugging hard as she rode him.
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed her plump thighs hidden beneath her long sweater.
“Fuck…” He exhaled as he imagined gripping them, sliding his hands back to her ass and giving it a good smack.
She would have gotten a spanking had she not informed him she was home. Lucky girl.
But one day, he would bring her over his lap, hanging limply over himself and the chair and present it to him. Grayson pictured holding her hands behind her back as he delivered her punishment.
He licked his lips and pumped his fist faster. His legs began to involuntarily quake as he felt himself get close, but his hip began to almost painfully tighten.
He wouldn’t care how much it hurt, he would force her to ride him to orgasm or die trying.
His contracted hand fisted his black sheets, wishing hers was right there with him. Would she suck his thumb into her little mouth, right down to where a small scar was? Or would she bring it to her breast?
Grayson’s body spasmed as his balls began to tighten, and he spilled himself all over his heaving stomach. He refused to let go of his throbbing member, determined to savor every second of this orgasm until his body was uncontrollably shaking.
Finally, he stopped and rubbed his hand over his tremoring thigh muscles until they relaxed.
He stared down at his body, pleased with himself, but also understanding it would be different to Helena when she saw him in this state.
The fact that he was planning for when and not if surprised him. But, he was sure.
His phone pinged again with a photo of her dinner. Some ravioli with a little glass of wine.
Don’t drink too much. He typed back with a smile.
A pouting face emoji appeared on his screen to stare at him.
Brat.
This was the beginning of something that could be wonderful.