She gasped when my right hand rose to touch her scar. I ran my thumb over the semi-raised skin. Her body stiffened but she didn’t push me away.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m a plastic surgeon, Grace. You’ve stood next to me as I operated on women with scars just like—”
“I didn’t want you to see me like one of them! Not like I was a patient or just another body on your table to be fixed. I didn’t want you to see me as broken. I still don’t.” Her voice trembled with the tears she held back.
Lowering my lips to her scar, I kissed it once, twice, three times, before standing back up to look her in the eye when I said, “Baby, out of the two of us, you’re not the one who’s broken.” My lips crashed down over hers, my hand still holding onto what was left of her right breast, as I kissed her furiously.
I pivoted her body so that her back was pressed against the tiled wall of the shower. Leaving my hand where it was, and keeping my thumb grazing across her scar, I sank to my knees, and with my free arm lifted her left leg to place over my shoulder.
“Jacob!” Grace’s voice pleaded.
I buried my face into her center, spreading her labia to give my tongue better access to her clit. With my mouth, but without words, I expressed how perfect I believed she was. Because the word perfection didn’t even begin to describe what she was to me.
She moaned above me as her hand came down to cover mine, which still rested over her scar. Her hips began to buck against my face, and I felt as if I couldn’t get enough of her. I squeezed her left thigh as it rested against my shoulder, adoring the feel of her body against mine. I swallowed every bit of moisture her body produced for me. Ignoring the pelting water that had begun to turn cold, I lapped at Grace’s pussy with a vigor even I didn’t know I possessed. And when her body began trembling, and her cries became hoarse, and her flower opened and clenched from her coming, I still couldn’t get enough.
I licked and suckled until her throat muscles gave in and she couldn’t scream any longer, wringing a second orgasm free from her. When all was said and done, Grace was forced to push me away from her, lest I continue feasting off her pussy and bringing her to climax a third time, giving my own self lockjaw. But I would’ve been willing to make that sacrifice.
And as I stood, holding Grace up on her shaking legs, I kissed her scar again before connecting with her lips.
Absolute perfection.
****
Grace
“How come you never went in for reconstructive surgery?”
I nearly choked on my freshly squeezed grape juice. Jacob and I sat around my kitchen island, eating our breakfast even though it was sometime after noon. We hadn’t come up for air after the shower for a while.
“You don’t know how to be subtle, do you?”
He shrugged a shoulder, his elbows planted on countertop, fork dangling from one hand as he peered over at me.
I licked my lips at the sight of his flexed muscles because he was shirtless.
“Subtlety isn’t my specialty.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I took another sip of juice before placing the glass down. “I was tired of being a patient.” I looked to him. “After surgery and almost a full year of treatment, I couldn’t bear the thought of going in for another surgery and the healing time it would take. I wanted to put cancer in my rearview mirror. So, I figured I would live with the scars, or maybe get surgery sometime in the future.”
“Five years later and you still haven’t.”
If any other man had said those words, I would’ve taken it as an accusation. But Jacob didn’t mean it that way. He was just curious.
“Same reason. I enjoy taking care of others but am not so good at letting others do the same for me.”
“They say doctors make the worst patients, but the truth is,no oneis worse than nurses.”
I giggled because I suspected there was some truth to that. Everyone knew nurses were the heartbeat of any hospital. Sure, doctors gave out prescriptions and diagnoses and treatment regimens, but nurses were necessary for the follow through. Most doctors couldn’t do half of what nurses did on a daily basis, but it was a secret we kept to ourselves. And with that much knowledge and responsibility, yes, it was difficult as hell to let go and allow yourself to be taken care of.
“Come here.”
His deep voice pulled my attention to his perfect lips. I admired the little bit of dark stubble growing around his mouth thanks to the fact that he hadn’t shaved that morning.
I did as requested and stood from my seat, circling the island, to perch my body on the edge of Jacob’s stool. He adjusted, giving me a little more space to fit comfortably while his left hand circled my waist, holding me in place.
He kissed me behind my ear before taking another bite of the blueberry pancakes I made us for breakfast. His hand moved underneath the black, sleeveless T-shirt I wore, up to the space that had been my right breast. I stiffened when his fingers traced the scar at the same time he brought a forkful of pancakes to my lips.
