Page 10 of Absolutely Pucked
“Get my dick out,” I told him.
His gaze flickered down, and then his hands followed. My ass felt bereft of his touch, but that was quickly overshadowed by the way he unzipped me, then spread my boxer slit apart and curled tenderfingers around my cock. It throbbed, my entire body going white-hot with need as he took me into his palm and squeezed.
His eyes were locked on my face, like he was reading me, and his pink tongue darted out to touch his lower lip. I rocked my hips into his hand, and he let out a startled groan. “You like that?”
I almost laughed. I would have, if the question hadn’t been so goddamn sincere. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that.”
He gripped me harder, then stroked from the base of my dick all the way to the tip, twisting his hand slightly as he went. It was so simple, something I did all the time, and yet it was the best thing I’d ever felt. Ever.
“Fuck me.”
“Wouldn’t mind that either,” he murmured, his hand speeding up.
My vision started to blur around the edges, and I pressed my hands to his shoulders, staring down at him. “I’m gonna come. But you can fuck me after if you want.”
His pupils dilated. His eyes, in that moment, were a sort of hazel-brown, but I could only just make out a thin ring of color. “Yeah? You sure?”
“More than sure. Fuck, I want to feel you inside me.” I closed my eyes and began to thrust into his hand, faster—faster, until I was aware of nothing except the warmth of his palm and the tightness of his grip.
My hips were aching, but then he moaned like he was the one getting jerked off, and without warning, I exploded. Come shot from the tip of my dick, pooling on his shirt as I hunched forward and rubbed myself onhis chest. His free hand came back around my ass and kneaded my left cheek as I chased the last vestiges of pleasure.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice hoarse.
I blinked down at him. “I’ve seen myself orgasm in a mirror once, and I know for a fact I am not one of those guys who can look pretty when they come.”
He moved his hand to my cheek and rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. “I didn’t say pretty. You’re rough around the edges and really fucking raw when you let go. I love it.”
My body heated, and my dick gave a feeble twitch like it wanted to try again. Ian laughed and rubbed my softening cock with the palm of his hand. “More,” I begged.
His brows lifted, but he kept going until I hissed and pulled back, unable to take the sensations. He let go immediately, pressing both hands to my sides, fingers gently touching my ribs. It wasn’t light enough to be ticklish, but not firm enough to make me feel closed in.
I glanced at his face again, and he tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes.” God, that was the easiest answer I’d ever given. Yes, yes, so much fuckingyes. I felt a sudden and almost desperate need to be filled by him. “Do you have a condom?”
He let out a puff of air. “Yeah. I do. And a small packet of lube. It’s not much, but…”
“That’s okay. I like it a little rough.” I wasn’t trying to be sexy or alluring. It was just true. I didn’t like the pain, but I didn’t always want it to be tender. My therapist would probably try and equate that to my shittychildhood, but I wasn’t about to bring my crappy parents into this.
“You’re going to have to undress,” he said carefully.
I took a breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I know. And, uh…” I slid off his legs and stood up. My cock was limp and short, hanging outside of my boxers, and I felt a little sticky. I reached for the words I wanted to say—to offer him permission, I guess, for him to be freaked-out and leave. But the words wouldn’t come.
“What is it?” he pressed.
I glanced down. “It’s not pretty. All of this.” I waved my hand at my hip and down toward my thigh. My prosthetic held on to my body with the help of a belt wrapped around my waist. “It sometimes freaks people out.”
“I’ve seen something like that before,” he said. His voice was rough again and full of truth. “It won’t bother me.”
I couldn’t trust him, but I wanted to. And frankly, the worst he could do was run out on me, and I’d already been half expecting that anyway. I’d already come, so the only one who would be left wanting was him.
I just didn’t understand why that bothered me so much.
Digging my fingers into the waistband of my jeans, I gripped them, then tugged. It took a second to shimmy them down over the belt, but eventually, they dropped down to the tops of my shoes, and I held myself still.
I wasn’t looking at his face, but I could feel his gaze like it was a physical touch. He was looking me up and down, taking me in. His body was tense, but he’dbeen tense this entire time, so I wasn’t taking credit for that.
And then came his touch—tentative and careful. His fingers dug into my hip at the top of the belt, then softly traced the edge. “Looks like it hurts.”
