Page 42 of CurVy 13

“Give it to me,” she insists softly, taking the blade from my hand and placing it on the countertop. Should I be concerned she has access to a knife? Is this still— Am I still meant to keep an eye on her?

“You don’t have to do this,” she says, her sweet voice carving into my thoughts.

I look into her eyes. “I cut the talent out of my fingers. They don’t fucking play anymore.”

Breathing hard, she collects a kit from under the sink and begins to bandage my knuckles, the tender touch like nothing I have ever felt before. Caring. Careful. “We broke up, Tyler.” She reads me so well. “He is my ex-boyfriend.”

“You’re lying, baby.”

“Vallie. I’m Vallie. And I’m not.” She doesn’t look at me as she works on my hand, but I stare straight at her. Each inch. The curve of her nose, the bow of her upper lip, the dimple in her left cheek. The entire stunning canvas of Vallie. “Your talent wasn’t dirty. It’s special. Whatever happened—”

“I fell in love with her.”

“How old were you when you fell in love with her?” With her head down, her voice is cautious and gentle to match.

“Ten. I think.”

“And she touched you?” I see the roll of her throat as she asks this question. She doesn’t look at me, but her inquiry is intense enough without eye contact.

“I think so.”

“You think so.”

“I thought she did. For a long time. I thought she kissed my ear. Touched my thigh. Held my cock while I played, and then when I came…” My cock throbs again. “She took it all away. Called me dirty.”

“You’re not dirty.”

“My talent is.”

“No,” she says, but she doesn’t understand. She hasn’t seen. She can’t understand. She wasn’t there.

My body tenses, my cock drips, and I growl. I pull my hand from her, grit my teeth hard, and rip open my top button.

I reach in and fist my cock, squeezing it and moaning long and hard. Fuck.

“Look,” I snarl, stroking up and down. Up and down. I squeeze some pressure out before displaying my full length on my palm for her to see. The entire thick shaft is slashed in grid-like scars from years of trying to bleed my dirty talent out. “See. I should have cut it off, but I couldn’t. Should have, but—"

Shaking, I brace for her repulsion. A vein in my cock thrums, the scars shift around the beating channel, and I wait.

“I know what it’s like to be embarrassed by your body, but…” Tears fill her eyes. “But this is…”

“Don’t lie to me. No one wants this. No one wants to touch my cock. No one—"

Then she drops to her knees, cutting my words off at my tongue and my thoughts out completely.

She takes my cock into her smooth, little hand, the thick throbbing muscle looking huge and mean in comparison.

She kisses the tip.

My breath hitches.

Tilting her head, she laps her tongue along my heavy, pulsing length. Touching all the scars, rolling over the ridges and valleys they etched into my skin, she kisses me again.

I freeze.

Then she takes my cock into the hot, warm depths of her mouth with a skill that sends shockwaves of energy through my spine and a perfect melody into my ears.

Her glassy eyes find mine, and I touch her soft cheek with my thumb, swiping over the blush.

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