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“I’m good.” His hand hovered in the air like he wanted to touch me, but didn’t know if he should. I put him out of his misery. “You can touch me. I trust you.”

Torturously slow, his hand lowered to my stump. With the first touch, his pupils blew wide, darkening his icy blues. My skin tingled under the heat of his palm. The sensation was indescribable, almost like every nerve ending had begun to fire all at once. It was electrifying. Any doubts about his hold on my heart vanished the second his finger lightly traced over my surgical scar. I was his completely.

“It’s ugly.” I spoke softly.

“No, baby. It means you survived.”

Zakhar

I didn’t want to leave, but it was clear to see she was struggling with something. Giving her a few moments to conquer whatever demon still lingered was the least I could do. After helping her into the bathroom to get ready for bed, I excused myself with a promise to return shortly. Her shy smile when I kissed her forehead let me know I’d made the right choice.

Standing in the shower, one hand braced on the black marble wall, the other wrapped firmly around my cock, I thought about the gorgeous woman in the next room. I tugged and pulled in long, hard strokes until my knees threatened to give out from the intensity of my release. It was the last time I’d use my hand to bring myself to completion. My next orgasm and any after belonged to Prudence. Nothing else would do.

When I slipped back into her bedroom twenty minutes later wearing shorts and a T-shirt, she was sitting in the middle of the bed with her eyes closed. What drew my attention was the dip in her eyebrows and the way she vigorously rubbed her left leg. Her movements seemed almost pained.

“What’s wrong?”

Her head snapped up at my voice. “Nothing.”

“That’s”––I pointed––“not nothing.”

“Phantom limb pain,” she shrugged.

After her amputation, I did my research. I’d read all about the neurological phenomenon. Some people described the sensation like a deep burning while others said it felt more like a cramp or an itch. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, which was why the scene in front of me was so confusing.

“Then why are you rubbing your left leg?”

“Supposedly, by touching my remaining leg, it will trick my brain and calm down the nervous system.”

“Does it work?”

“No. My brain and I call bullshit.” She didn’t stop, though. “This technique may work for some people, and that’s great for them, but I don’t understand how it’s supposed to relieve anything when I can feel myself touching the wrong leg.”

“Maybe you need a different approach.” Before she could question me, I climbed onto the bed behind her, spread my legs, and slid her backward. I didn’t stop until her ass was cradled in the V of my thighs. “Use mine.”

Pru turned her head to look at me, a myriad of emotions flickered across her face. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed once, twice, and asked, “What?”

“Use my leg.” I tucked a lock of brunette hair behind her ear. “If you’re unable to fool your brain by rubbing a leg you can feel, try using one you can’t.”

“Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“If you think touching my leg is weird, we’re gonna have huge problems.”

She rolled her deep brown eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Just give it a try. It might not even work.”

I wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to my idea, but I had to try something, so when Pru tentatively settled her hand on my knee, the tension in my shoulders eased. A few heartbeats later, she drifted lower. If it took an hour for her to get comfortable, I’d wait. This was her show, and I was her audience. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. Within minutes, the heat from her palm was blazing a trail up and down the inside of my calf.

“Talk to me.”

“Your leg is hairy––”

I cut her off. “I’ll shave it if you want me to.”

“No, no. It’s just different.”

“Different good or different bad?”