HEAL YOU | JENLISA

ELEVEN

LISA

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IF THERE WAS ANY QUESTION WHETHER OR NOT THINGS WERE in working condition, it’s definitely answered now. My cock is so hard I hurt. She’s soft and tight against my fingers, drenching me, and I want inside her.

“Is that what it takes for you to come?” I ask, breathing kisses into her hair because her face is hidden from me.

Instead of answering, she hugs me tighter and burrows closer, and feelings of tenderness nearly overwhelm me.

“Jennie?”

Silence. At this point, the first shreds of worry creep into my mind.

“Can you talk to me? Did I do something wrong? If I did, just tell me, and I’ll fix it. I want this to be good for you.” That’s important to me, maybe more important now than it’s ever been in the past.

“Can’t we just … keep going?” she asks without looking at me. She runs her hand down my arm and then presses on my hand that’s between her thighs, undulates against it, so my fingers push deeper into her. Fuck, that’s hot. “This is fine.”

Fine? I don’t want sex with me to be fine. I try to ease her away from my neck, so I can see her face. “Will that be—”

She presses her mouth to mine before I can finish the question, and hell if I don’t respond. I could kiss her for hours, just kissing, nothing else. Her mouth is perfect, her tongue, those breathless sounds she makes.

“Don’t worry about me,” she whispers between kisses. “This is enough for me, kissing you.”

She palms my cock through my pants, scrapes her nails over the denim, and my blood rushes, everything tightens, every hair on my body stands on end, I almost come. Damn if that isn’t the sexiest thing.

But then her words sink into my brain.

Kissing is enough? She doesn’t expect to get anything out of sex with me? She’s okay if I nut on her like she’s a blow-up doll or some shit?

Like I’m some kind of charity sex case because I’m not whole anymore.

My fly comes undone, and she reaches inside, and I can’t help it, I stiffen, I jerk away, I put distance between myself and the couch and her.

She stares at me, her eyes wide and startled. Her hair is disheveled, her dress open, showing off her gorgeous tits and thighs. The sight is almost enough to bring me to my knees. I take deep breaths and run my hands over my face, only to smell her on my slick fingers. I stifle a groan and drop my hands to my sides.

“Jennie, I’m sorry. I just …” I shake my head. Honestly, I don’t know what to say.

She pulls the folds of her dress together and seems to shrink in upon herself. With her face turned away from me, she asks, “Is this it? Are we done?”

“Can we talk through this?”

She grimaces and opens her mouth like she wants to speak, but words don’t come. She takes a breath and tries again to speak, but, again, words don’t come.

I take a step toward her. She’s so clearly struggling, and I hate seeing that. I want to make things better. My fly is hanging open, and I zip and button everything before sitting in the armchair adjacent to the couch.

“Remember when I told you it’s been a while for me?” I ask softly. It doesn’t feel good sharing about myself, but I can’t stand the idea of her misunderstanding the situation.