Admittedly, I love this feeling. The power I’ve harnessed while laid out on my back. The way my body can turn someone crazed. It’s the most in control I ever feel, next to being in the lifeguard tower on the beach.
He points at my knees with both hands. “Open those for me, honey.”
Honey? Hmm, I think I like it.
I dig my heels into the mattress, popping my knees up as I slide my legs apart.
“Like this?” I ask sweetly.
“Yes,” Bo answers, teeth bared around his knuckles. “Just like that,” he says slowly before flicking his hair out of his eyes.
I splay my fingers across the band of my tights around my waist and follow the side seam down to my hips. Then I trace a string cutting against the thickest part of my thigh. “Would you take these off?” I ask, toying with them.
Bo nods like a man possessed, bending over the bed to reach for my waist. He pulls the tights down in one strong, fluid motion until they’re off and resting over his shoulder. I thought that was an accident, and he’d soon discard them to the floor, but he’s keeping them close with a tight grip as he moves his opposite hand up the inside of my leg.
“Win,” he says, nearly whimpering. “Who are you?”
I’m more turned on than I have been in years, and the guy hasn’t even touched me yet. “Bo,” I whisper longingly, my hands clinging to the blanket underneath me.
What I want to say is stop caressing my leg and bring your hand, mouth, dick, or any part of you, closer. “Come here please,” I say instead, biting my bottom lip.
Bo walks around the bed, only giving up his hold of my tights when he sits to undress. Then he discards them to the floor.
I shuffle over to the right side of the bed as Bo undresses down to his boxer briefs. With his trousers and costume gone, I get a clearer view of his prosthetic leg. It looks more futuristic than I was expecting—metallic, with silver hinges and joints under a grey plastic socket.
Then I remember what he said downstairs about not having had sex since… since whatever happened. I want him to feel totally safe to choose what to do next, but this is uncharted territory for us both.
“You can take your prosthesis off or leave it on. Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” I offer, trying to keep my voice indifferent, making an effort to remain breathy so he doesn’t think I’m any less turned on than I was just moments ago.
Bo nods with his back to me before using his arms to help twist himself onto the bed. He lifts and adjusts until his back is straight against the headboard and both legs are out in front of him.
I waste no time getting back to it, moving my mouth from his bicep to the top of his shoulder and across. Once I lift my leg over his lap, straddling him once again, we come alive. The glorious sensation of nothing separating us but two thin, matching black layers of cotton is exhilarating.
“Call me honey again,” I say, grinding myself against his hardness.
“You liked that?” he muses, his voice cocky. “It sorta just slipped out.”
I don’t answer. Well, I do. Just not with words.
We fall back into kissing intuitively. Rough and greedy but coordinated—no bumping noses or awkward slips of tongue against teeth. Just two people winding themselves up higher and higher with the hope that we’ll eventually fall, crash, and burn.
I continue writhing against him, grateful that he doesn’t seem to be in too much of a rush. Dry humping is so underrated.
I’m starting to feel my body float away to that perfect edge when he reaches around my back and unclasps my bra. Two large hands find my tits immediately, playing with them until I’m gasping and moving for him like a puppet on his string. Bo drops his lips to my chest as I arch my back for him. He plucks my nipple between his thumb and finger before sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue.
“Yes,” I hiss, my hips’ rhythm picking up speed.
Moaning around me, Bo splays his fingers across my lower back, pressing me into him with his mouth passing between my breasts greedily.
“Lift up,” he says, his voice forceful through his teeth, his hand placed at the base of my neck.
I go onto my knees without question, lifting off his lap. He smoothly guides himself down the mattress until he’s flat on his back, his face perfectly positioned between my thighs.
“Good,” he says, scratching my inner thigh with his stubble as he pulls my panties to the side with an unexpected roughness. “Now sit for me… honey.” He throws in the honey at the end like he’s trying to sweeten the deal. I needed no additional persuasion.
Before I even have time to lower myself fully, Bo’s got both of his hands on my hips and he’s dragging me onto his face. His fingers dig into my sides until it almost hurts.
“Relax,” I breathe out as he burrows into me. But my smugness doesn’t last long. I gasp when his mouth begins working against me. My knees tremble, then give out entirely until I’m actually sitting on his face and holding on to the headboard for dear life as he presses his tongue exactly where I want it.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper, my voice rough.
He reaches up with both hands, taking my hands from the headboard and placing them behind my back, holding them together in one strong, unrelenting fist. My body is entirely at his mercy, and I simply do not care.
He hums against me in response to every sound escaping my lips. A rewarding, prideful groan rumbles from the back of his throat each time I gasp, moan, or cry out.
I’ve had a fair number of men eat me out. But none have done it like this. Like they were truly starved for me. Like they enjoyed it just as much as I do.
Pleasure builds and builds and builds until I finally come undone, shuddering out one long, grateful whimper as I orgasm. Equal parts relief and pleasure cascade over me.
Bo gently releases my hands as he continues to lick me, sending shudders up my spine with each languid swipe. I wipe the sheen of sweat off my brow with my wrist, twitching as he works me over delicately with his tongue.
“I can’t,” I whisper, attempting to pull myself up and off him. Bo shakes his head between my thighs, groaning his displeasure at me trying to move. He attempts to hold me in place with a hand clasped around the back of my knee, but I break free.
He bites—not nibbles,but bites—the softest part of my inner thigh when I lift one leg to move off him. I yelp, laughing in surprise and sobering immediately, falling onto my ass next to the pillows.
“Sir!” I call out in shock. As in, how dare you?
I look over at him and find myself momentarily stunned. Bo’s parted lips are sparkling wet and slightly swollen, and his eyes are satiated. “Oh, hell yeah,” he breathes out a laugh, “I could definitely be into being called sir.”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but smile.
Attempting to catch my breath, I lie next to him. He moves a piece of hair out of his face before bracing his weight on his forearm to suspend himself over me and kissing me leisurely. I get off on the taste of myself on his lips, and based on the way he keeps brushing his tongue against mine, he does too.
Not long after that, I’m tracing his hardness through his boxers. “May I?” I slide the tip of my thumb under the hem. “Sir,” I reward him with only a hint of sarcasm.