“No.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I’ll buy you any Scottish bear you want, but not an English one.”
“You look angry.”
“No worries. It’s nothing to do with you.”
I attempt to distract Bleu—and myself—with sightseeing. It’s a long day by the time we return to the hotel. My leg feels the miles by the time we return so once we’re back in our suite, I remove my prosthesis. “Fuck, I’m sore from all the walking we did today.”
“You should’ve told me. We didn’t have to stay out all day.”
It wasn’t a problem earlier. In fact, I didn’t notice the discomfort until an hour ago. “It was fine all day. The walk back was when it started giving me trouble.”
I pushed myself too far in an attempt to keep Bleu’s mind off the baby stuff. And mine. Mission not accomplished.
She plops on the floor in front of me and reaches for my leg. “Here. I’m going to rub it for you.”
I don’t want her doing that. “No.”
“If my feet hurt, you’d rub them for me. In fact, you’ve done it for me before—more than once if I recall correctly.”
“Aye, but this is different.”
“You have pain in your lower extremity and I want to make it better for you. It’s no different than what you do for me.”
But it is. She just can’t see that. “It’s my stump. Not my foot.”
“True. It’s not your foot because you only have one and it’s on your other leg. Stop being stupid and let me massage it for you.”
She’s determined to make me feel better as she rubs her hands over the end of my amputated leg. “Better?”
I don’t want to hurt her but she needs to understand why I don’t want her doing this and why it’s different from rubbing feet. “Muscle is what’s massaged. That’s why it feels good. My stump is mostly skin-covered bone and there’s not a lot of sensation. It’s not a pleasant feeling. That’s why it’s not the same thing.”
She stops and looks up at me. “Okay. But I still want to make you feel better.”
She moves to her knees and glides her hands up my thighs. “What about this? Better?”
I like the place this is going. “Not quite there but it’s a definite improvement.”
She stretches to place her lips against mine and sucks my bottom lip into her mouth. “I’m going to make you feel so damn good.”
She moves her mouth down the side of my neck. “You’re definitely moving in the right direction.”
“Getting warmer, huh?”
“Aye.”
She loosens the knot of my tie and lifts it over my head. She pulls the bottom of my shirt from my pants and begins unbuttoning it, starting at the top. When it’s open, I sit up and she pushes it from my shoulders before tossing it over the arm of the sofa.
She places her palms on my chest and pushes me so my back is pressed against the sofa. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”
“Whatever you say.”
She kisses the center of my chest while tracing the tips of her thumbs around my nipples. They harden and she pinches them, sending a tingle straight to my cock. Or maybe her mouth moving down my stomach is the culprit.
Bleu reaches the waistband of my trousers and tugs the button open before lowering the zipper. Her hand reaches inside and frees me. She looks up at me and licks her lips. “Am I getting warmer?”
“Definitely.”
She lowers her mouth and presses her tongue just above my balls, dragging it in a slow, upward motion along my length. She reaches the head and sucks it into her mouth, swirling her tongue back and forth across the tip while holding the base.
She looks up and we make eye contact. “Still just warm?”
“No.” I suck air through clenched teeth. “You’re on-fucking-fire.”
She smiles before taking me back into her mouth in what I’m predicting will be the best blow job ever.
I lace my fingers through her hair as her head bobs up and down over my cock. Her hand cups my scrotum and she gently rolls my balls. This kind of massaging, I can stand. She can do it any time she wants. “Mmm … you’re making me feel so damn good, just like you said you would.”
I’m going to come very soon. I’m not sure how Bleu prefers that to happen. But I know how I feel about it. She’s my wife, not one of my previous conquests. I don’t plan to treat her as such. “Bonny. I’m about to come. I don’t want to do it in your mouth.”
Her head lifts but she’s still close enough I feel her warm breath on my dick when she speaks. “It’s okay.”
No. It’s really not.
I’ve done it plenty of times and it was always with one thing in mind—to convey to the woman I was with that she was nothing more than an object I was using for my own gratification. I don’t want that for my Bonny Bleu.
I caress my hand over her hair. “Stop, baby.”
She does as I ask and looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing in the world.”
I tug on her hands—willing her to stand—and she follows my cue. I unfasten the bottom button of her shirt and work my way up. She’s wearing a pink-and-white-striped bra, trimmed in black lace. Something about it reminds me of Paris. “Ooh la la.”
She trails two fingers down her breastbone between her tits. “Do you like it?”
“Aye. So well I think you should keep it on a while longer. I like the way you’re all stacked up there.”
When I’m finished, her shirt joins mine on the couch and I go to work on her trousers. Her shoes are already off so she kicks out of her pants.
She’s wearing matching knickers. No surprise there. My lass always wears paired sexies for me.
I grasp her arse cheeks in my hands and pull her forward, pressing my nose against the satiny triangle barely covering her. I inhale deeply. “You smell like the best kind of aphrodisiac. I can never get enough.”
I slip my finger into her elastic waistband and pull back, dipping my nose inside. “I like these knickers very much but I’d prefer seeing them on the floor.”
She pushes her fingers through my hair. “I think you’ve mastered all the ways to make that happen.”
“I’m sure there’s always room for improvement.”
I glide my hands over the arse of her knickers and hook my fingers over the back waistband. I scrunch them in my fisted hands and drag them down her legs. She steps out and I crumple them against my nose. I breathe in Bleu’s aroma. “I could very well develop a panty fetish because of your scent, my dear Mrs. Breckenridge. It’s divine.”