“This is my get your head out of your ass speech. I reserve game-day speeches for special occasions like sex marathons and getting out of bed on Sundays.”
My dick is interested in both options with her. Chloe is the perfect blend of sweet and sexy, giving me a hard-on from her presence and words alone.
She moves away from me, taking her warmth with her. Marko asks her to watch him race across the grass, and she walks over to him.
I do what Chloe told me to and push aside the idea of her staring at me. Instead, I focus on the motions of getting up. I grab my prosthetic and cross it over my left leg. Rolling onto my knees, I bring my left foot forward and press it into the ground before standing.
I brush the dirt clinging to my hands. No one pays me any attention, and I enjoy the warmth spreading through my chest at my accomplishment. Instead of my usual hatred toward myself, I feel stronger. Not only because I could get up, but because I found someone whose first instinct isn’t to baby me or avoid talking about my injury. Honestly, it seems like Chloe doesn’t give a shit about it. She treats me as an equal, which is more than I can say about many people. It has me wanting to get to know the real her rather than the lie I created in my head. And I’m not exactly opposed to it anymore.
I can’t tear my eyes away from Chloe licking the chocolate gelato off her spoon.
Why did I think inviting Chloe to this was a good idea? My body is out of control, reacting to anything and everything Chloe does. I shouldn’t find licking a spoon erotic. Clearly, I’ve stooped to new lows during my time in isolation. Lows that include one visit already to the bathroom for me to readjust myself.
It’s not like I’m bringing women back to my house to fuck me. The last time that happened was over a year ago, and the woman only had sex with me out of pity. I could tell by the look in her eyes after I stripped out of my jeans. Rather than remove my leg to be comfortable, I kept it on and went along with the act anyway. The hopeful part of me believed it would make me feel better about myself if I was sexual with someone. It didn’t. I never bothered again after that occasion because I felt worse than I ever have in the bedroom.
By now, I’m practically a born-again virgin. So, yeah, watching Chloe lick her spoon is like viewing live porn for me at this point. Sad but fucking true based on how my dick threatens war against the zipper of my jeans.
Chloe pushes her cup of gelato away, and my cock weeps.
“Well, that was so good. Thank you.” She looks over at me before turning her attention toward Marko. “I loved seeing you again.”
“Will you come tomorrow on the boat?” He bats his lashes in a way I recognize as something Maya did as a kid.
“Oh. I have things to do.”
“What things?” I blurt out.
“Um…work.”
“Where do you work?”
“The coffee shop next to the bakery on the main road.” Her eyes fall to her lap.
“We swim tomorrow. You can come!” Marko demands.
It’s a sad moment to realize my nephew has more pull with women than me and he’s only four. No doubt he will be a real charmer when he’s older.
Chloe’s head snaps up, her eyes searching mine for help.
I shrug. “Saying no to him is exhausting.” Right. “What time do you get out of work?”
“I’m done at noon.”
“Does one o’clock sound good, then?”
“Sure.” Her voice sounds anything but sure, but her face remains calm.
I ask for her phone number, just in case anything comes up. She rattles off the digits before leaving the two of us behind.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You’ve got your dad’s skills for getting what you want.” I offer him my hand to smack.
“Hell forking yes.” He shoots me a huge smile and slaps my palm.
Hindsight truly is twenty-twenty. Inviting Chloe swimming was a bad idea. The thought kept me up way too late last night after Marko went to bed.
I’ve officially voted my nephew the worst wingman ever. Neither one of us can recognize when our ideas suck, and that’s a deadly combo.
Like an asshole, I text Chloe while she’s at work about postponing our plans because Marko came down with a nasty cold. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’m fresh out of ideas. This is the last thing I want to do but I have to. I can’t bear her seeing the real me without any pants or barriers hiding my leg.