Before he could protest, Isobel was kneeling at his feet and untying his sneakers. Callum gritted his teeth and
steeled himself for her reaction to his feet. His plastic feet. Isobel tapped his thigh to get him to lift his leg so she could remove his shoe. And then she stilled, with the shoe still in her hands.
Callum felt panic rise. It was fine to say something was okay, but the reality of coming face to face with it was something else.
“You wear socks?” Isobel grinned up at him. “In case your feet get cold?”
A wave of relief rushed through him, making him feel almost faint.
“Woman, you have a sick sense of humour.” He was relieved his voice didn’t shake.
“I know.” She seemed proud. “All my sisters do. Family funerals are a riot.”
She made quick work of removing the other shoe, and then his socks, putting them in a neat pile at her side. Callum focused intently on everything she did, and held his breath for her first reaction to his skin-coloured plastic feet.
She poked at them. “I’m a little disappointed. I was expecting something out of a sci-fi movie. These look like something you’d take off a mannequin.”
Callum couldn’t fight a smile. “They’re shells. They cover the sci-fi part of the foot, which is metal. You wear these so your feet look more normal and so your shoes fit.”
“Oh.” She poked them again. “So these rubbery bits come off?”
“Aye. But I’m not doing that right now.” Bloody hell, he had enough to get through without dismantling his prosthetic legs so she could satisfy her curiosity.
She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “I’m ready. You can take everything else off now.”
Even as anxious as he was, Callum couldn’t help but be amused at the sultry way she looked at him.
“You want to move back a bit, give me some room?” He hooked his thumbs in his jeans, and she wriggled back about three inches.
“I’m good here. Get on with it.”
With a shake of his head, Callum lowered his jeans. She frowned at him, and he stopped with them at mid-thigh. The tops of the cups his stumps fitted into were visible, and he wondered if she’d had enough already.
“What about the underpants? Shouldn’t you take them off too?” the little vixen said.
“I don’t need to take off my underwear to show you my legs.”
“Oh.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “It won’t be as much fun if you don’t.”
“This isn’t about fun, woman. It’s about showing you that I’m part man, part machine.”
“I’ve always had a thing for sexy cyborgs. Take everything off, Callum. I want to see all of you. Please, pretty please?”
He shook his head. “You are dangerous.” But he tugged at his underpants, being careful to lift them over his cock, and took them down with his jeans.
She gasped at the sight of him and licked her lips. Callum groaned. This was not going at all the way he’d envisioned it would. He looked behind him, ready to sit down and pull his jeans off the rest of the way.
“I’ll do it,” Isobel said eagerly.
Before he could stop her, she shifted forward and reached for his jeans. He was only inches from her luscious mouth. This was agony. Pure agony. How was he supposed to deal with her reaction to his legs when he was that close to heaven?
“Mmm,” she said, her eyes firmly on his hard length, rather than his titanium legs. She tugged one jean leg over his foot and leaned in to get the other one. Callum put a hand on her shoulder for balance. As she yanked his other jean leg down to his foot, she licked the head of his cock.
“Isobel.” He groaned, and his hand tightened on her shoulder.
She licked him a couple more times before helping him to get his jeans off, and then she sat back on her heels to study him. Callum was breathing hard. His cock pointed out towards her. He could barely think of anything else. Right then, the most important thing in the world was getting inside her.
Her eyes scanned up his body slowly, from his fake feet, over the black carbonite and titanium legs, up his scarred thighs, over his abdomen and tattoos, to his face.