“I don’t think I’ll be able to stay upright with you doing that,” I admitted.
He smiled, standing, then lifted me onto the bed gently. Grabbing a couple of pillows, he settled my booted leg over it, leaving my other leg free and I couldn’t help covering my face with my hands.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I feel like I’m getting ready for a pap smear.”
“Jesus, Angel, don’t say that. I’m known around the world for my prowess, don’t limit me to a minor gynecologist.”
I leaned up on my arms. “Prowess?”
“So much prowess.” He pushed gently on my chest. “Relax.”
I laid back down and he covered my core with his mouth again. I slid my fingers into his hair as he sucked my clit, then dipped his tongue inside of me, and I couldn’t really think because I was floating on air.
He sucked, licked, and fingered me to one of the most amazing orgasms I’d ever had, but before I came down, he hovered over me, smiling before kissing me and sliding into me slowly.
“Good?”
“Oh, God, yes,” I breathed out, sliding my hands up his back.
His hand slid to my neck and he kissed me again. “If you need to stop, tell me.”
“Okay,” I whispered, wrapping my good leg around his waist as he moved.
And, lord, hemoved, slowly at first, letting me get used to his size and adjust to the strange angle I was in with my gimpy leg. I savored the feel of him inside of me, one hand at my neck, the other rolling a nipple into a tight bead.
“You’re beautiful, Lyric,” Doom whispered, kissing me again.
“You certainly make me feel that way. Boot and all.”
“Oh, the boot adds to the sex appeal.”
I grinned.
“You ready?” he asked.
“So ready.”
He buried himself again, then slammed into me over and over, careful to baby my leg while still managing to hit my g-spot. A second orgasm built and a climax washed over me just as his cock pulsed inside of me.
I arched against him, weaving my fingers into his hair as my body shuddered with release.
“Wow,” he rasped, running his nose against mine.
“Wow, indeed,” I agreed.
He slid out of me, climbing off the bed and stepping into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up before throwing the terrycloth into the corner and stretching out beside me. “How’s your leg?”
“It’s actually good.”
“You up for another round?”
“I don’t have time, actually. Sorry. I have some work I need to get done.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll get an Uber. I kind of derailed your night.”
