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He bends down to softly kiss my lips. “Betsy. You make it impossible to take you for granted.” His voice still holds a hint of chagrin.
I smirk at his annoyance. “And she just left? Without a word?”
Heath shakes his head. “Oh, there were words. How sorry she was. How she was leaving for my own good, et cetera.”
I gape at him until my neck complains about the angle and I turn back to his hands holding my phone. “She was an idiot,” I announce.
Heath snorts and turns the page.
A few minutes later, I stop him again. “So you’ve not… um, been with a woman since what’s her name? Seriously?”
“Jennifer. Her name was Jennifer and no. Not because I was hung up on her, but it seemed easier to simply take the edge off by myself rather than explain and deal with the pity or outright disgust. And well…” I can feel him shrug behind me. I reach a hand out to cup his knee. I don’t know why. I just need to be touching him.
“So when you said things aren’t like they used to be, you don’t really know, do you?” I ask slowly.
9
Heath
I sigh into Betsy’s dark curls and mentally curse out Black, who I always thought was a friend. Why the hell didn’t he bother mentioning this to me? Although I suppose in some way, the book is aiding this conversation sort of like one of those too obvious for words kids’ books about some trauma or other. So maybe it was meant to be found at a moment like this? Hard to know until I get a chance to ask him. And clearly Dominic Jamieson was in on it because nobody but a spook would know half of this.
“What I know is that there’s a large area of skin where… it’s like touching someone else, almost. Or like being touched through thick clothing, you can feel a hint of something, but it’s not like feeling it on regular skin.”
Betsy leans back against me thoughtfully, her finger tracing a design over my kneecap through my jeans. “Do you understand how much I love you, Heath? That it wouldn’t matter to me if you couldn’t make love in a traditional way at all? As long as you want to be close to me, to make me happy, to get your own satisfaction from seeing me cum. But I’m having trouble untangling the two. I can’t tell how much of your reluctance is general guy stuff and how much is Heath and Betsy stuff.”
She turns her face up to me with an earnestness I haven’t seen since I first met her. I meet her gaze directly when I respond without hesitation. “It’s all guy stuff, Bets. And a healthy dose of guilt because I’m so much older than you.”
Betsy rolls her eyes. “It’s hard to tell when you’re being such an idiot.”
“What if I told you I was done being stupid about it? What if we set that book aside and I prove it to you — now?”
Her eyes widen, and she licks her lips. “Well, don’t tease a girl, Heath. But only if you mean it.”
I give her a short sharp nod, my cock already pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans at the thought of finally being allowed to approach her untouched pussy. I groan, forgetting that she’s never done anything. Diving right in is not going to make this good for her. I set her phone down on the nightstand and regard her thoughtfully.
I slide down in the bed so my head is level with hers and trail a series of tiny kisses down her jaw. Her slight shiver reminds me just how inexperienced she is. My cock throbs at the thought of claiming her. “It’s fun to talk about breeding you on the first try, Bets. But is that really what you want? Right off the bat?”
A slow, sexy smile spreads across her face and she nods. “Uh, huh. I want you to fill me right up, Heath. I told you I want a big family so nobody, even you, ever feels alone. And I don’t want to wait.”
She reaches for my zipper with an arch look of inquiry waiting for my agreement. I give her a slight nod and watch my virgin bride start undressing me. She’s savoring every moment, that’s for sure.
Betsy
I bite back my quivers of anxiety. This is my big test and I’m not going to ruin it by showing how nervous I am. Simply because I have no idea what I’m doing. Heath will take over when he’s confident this is what I want — that he’s what I want. I just have to make it to that point without giving him some excuse to think it’s his scars or age or whatever that’s bothering me.
I peel back his jeans enough to give his cock some breathing room and then tug his sweater up over his head first. I’d like some exploration time, but I have a feeling the window will shut abruptly, so priorities and all. Top of that is reassuring Heath through touch and kisses that his scars don’t bother me. With narrowed eyes, he lifts his hips enough for me to scoot his pants down.
His boxers are trickier because I’m hardly skilled enough at undressing a man to do both in one go. I work them slowly down anyway, kissing as I go. I rub my cheek against the scars on his thigh and feel him go still. I blurt out my words, anyway. “This may not be a nice thing to say, but I kind of like your scars.”
There’s genuine bafflement in his voice when he finally responds. “I can’t wait to hear this one, Bets.”
I smile up at him before returning to trace a finger under the base of his cock. He jerks and I grin inside with satisfaction. It’s only the very front of him that has nerve damage — everything underneath has a more immediate response, so that’s where I need to focus my explorations.
“I’m not sure if you can understand,” I say softly as I bend over to kiss the back of his shaft, delighting when his cock visibly stiffens. “Not being a woman, you might not appreciate the allure of five o’clock shadow grazing over the tender skin of your thighs.”
“Can’t say as I’ve ever had that image before, Bets,” he growls. “And I’d appreciate not having it if it’s all the same to you, unless it’s my jaw rubbing your thighs.”
“Oh, it is!” I tell him cheerfully, finally daring to slide back the hood of his tip to blow gently on the exposed skin.
