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He hesitates to answer at first, sending me into a quiet panic as I try to rationalize why this question would be so hard to answer.
“You were just different. I don’t know how to explain it, but you were just warmer than they were. You were actually interested in things I had to say. You didn’t ignore me to play on your phone or message other guys,” he replies.
I’m starting to feel myself melting a little bit at his words, even though I was just feeling cagey and defensive a moment ago. It’s almost like I have had a little bit of wine, letting it fill up my head with that rose-tinted haze that sets wine apart from all other alcohol.
My body is responding to his words as well, sending sensations through me that I’ve only experienced twice since I came out of my coma. It’s a sweet warmth that starts in my belly and travels down my legs, lingering between them where a small pulse forms.
I want to fight it just a little bit, to preserve the newness of it all. But the part of me that wants himright fucking nowis much stronger than my desire for delayed gratification.
Throughout the night, I find myself gazing stupidly into his eyes, desperately searching for a remnant of the man I married on purpose so that I can finally be with him fully in my mind, heart, and body. The sex was incredible, of course, but he needs more than to just get off with my body. He needs his soulmate, his life partner.
I have to be that for him.
I need to make sure he feels it this time.
When we leave the restaurant, Adas helps me carefully into the limo as I cautiously wheel myself up the ramp.
“Damn, it’s so much harder to get into vehicles now. That’s not something I thought about before,” I say as I park myself in the wheelchair-accessible aisle of the limo.
“Yeah, I guess not. How did it feel to be out of the house, though?” he asks, taking my hand and stroking it sweetly like he always does. I wonder if that’s athingbetween us. He’s always so diligent about it.
Before I can answer, I become distracted by the view of the city in the nighttime. Everything is illuminated by scattered lights from the streets and apartments above the storefronts that line the whole district. I’m lost for words at the sight of it all as we begin to move faster through the streets.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask me?” I ask, feeling a little guilty for not paying attention.
“It’s okay. I think you might have answered my question already,” he replies with a smile.
He leans in for a kiss, and at first, I’m paranoid that the limo driver will see us kissing and kick us out for some reason.
Then, he takes my face and pulls it towards him. He’s going to make sure I know exactly how he’s feeling right now.
Feeling his tongue in my mouth again sends a bolt of blue electricity through me, breaking through all of the muddy, directionless sensations I’ve been experiencing as a result of the accident.
My paranoia is elevated now, but my judgment has been made blurry by the way that Adas is kissing me. I want to do the right thing. I’d hate to make the driver uncomfortable. But the part of me that wants Adas right now is much stronger than my willpower.
He must sense that in me because as soon as I kiss him back, he places his hand on my upper thigh, right where the hem of my dress is. He doesn’t move it very far up at first, almost like he’s trying to gauge my reactions to him.
All I do is kiss him back, hard and with purpose.
If he wants to touch me, I need him to really, really want it.
I don’t lift my dress for him. Instead, my hand travels down his chest to the bulge in his pants where I can feel his cock throbbing for me. He wants me so badly already. How much longer will he be able to hold off?
What if I tease him more?
I stroke him through his pants, adding more pressure as he moans quietly into my mouth. He’s trying so hard not to give in to me now that he knows it’s a game. He’ll let me tease him for the entire ride home.
I change my strategy, kissing him on the lips one last time before I move down to his neck. I kiss and bite him all the way down to his shoulder, moving the collar of his shirt and giving myself access to his collarbone.
Once I’ve started to suck on his neck, his hand moves from my thigh directly up my dress. His hand finds my panties, soaked already from the anticipation. He kisses me on the lips again, and I can feel him smiling as he slides my panties over.
My sensation hasn’t fully recovered yet, of course, but the pieces of me that can feel are so sensitive in contrast. He glides his finger over my slit, teasing me back in such a deliciously cruel way. He knows how to touch me just enough to send my judgment out the window.
Is this the person I am?
Trying to have sex in a limo?
Before I have a chance to go through the implications of this act, I feel Adas slide two fingers inside of me. He doesn’t finger me quickly or very hard at first; his motions are slow and precise, like he knows the exact number of strokes it will take to have me begging him for more.
