I’m nothing but honest when I say, “I don’t know. No one has ever touched me there before, but I want to try.”
He smiles tenderly, his eyes spilling over with understanding. “Okay. But you’ll let me know if it doesn’t feel right, okay? If you want me to stop.”
“I will.”
He places a hand right above my pecs and gently pushes me back onto the bed. I relax against the cool sheets, focusing on my breath and how I feel. Caleb hovers above me, his eyes trailing across my chest. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’re good?”
I chuckle. “Yes. Yes, I’m good. Get on with it already.”
Caleb laughs. “So eager.” I shiver when he moves his hand down between my pecs. Goosebumps spread across my skin, and my nipples rise to attention. Caleb’s fingers whisper against my skin, drawing the outline of one pec, then the other, until the circle becomes smaller and smaller, reaching my nipple. He pats his thumb across the pointed nub, then pinches it teasingly. I hiss, my chest shooting up, as the pleasure-pain surges through me. My dick swells behind my packer, and I thrust my hips upward until I feel the outline of Caleb’s cock against my thigh. His fingers move to my other nipple, alternating soft strokes with pinches that zing through my chest like a scorching wildfire.
“Look at you.” His voice vibrates with want. “So fucking responsive.” He mentioned that earlier, too, how responsive I am, but I think I’m just touch-starved. A spell of sadness courses through me. It’s true. My body is starved of touch.
His fingers coast carefully along my scars. I close my eyes. I’m so sensitive there, but Caleb’s touch doesn’t threaten to spin me out of control. Instead, it feels amazing and freeing, almost, to finally allow someone else to see my scars and to touch them.
“Look at me,” Caleb whispers, his hot breath hitting my chest. I blink my eyes open, and he smiles at me carefully. “Did it hurt? The surgery.”
I nod. “Yes. All worth it, though.” There’s a lump in my throat, and when I swallow, tears spill from my eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s said that today or tonight. “So very, very brave and beautiful, Kayden. I’m…” he shakes his head, dark bangs tumbling into his eyes. “I’m so in awe of you, of your courage, your strength. My strong K.”
“I’m not strong,” I whisper, overcome with emotion.
“Of course you are.”
And maybe he’s right. I never thought of it that way before. To me, it was never a choice. I knew I’d die if I didn’t become on the outside who I always was on the inside. Maybe not physically die, but my soul would perish, my spirit would slowly cease to exist one day at a time. I wouldn’t be Kayden, not truly.
Caleb studies my face, then licks his lips. “Can I kiss you? There? On your scars?”
“Yes.”
He leans down, his lips hovering over my chest for a moment before he presses a featherlight kiss against my scar. He hums against my chest, and it feels like I’m flying, like I’ve grown a pair of wings and I’m flying high above the ground, looking down at myself and Caleb worshiping my body. Because there’s no other word for what he’s doing. He kisses me again and again, then licks along the entire length of my scar. It’s like an out-of-body experience. My chest buzzes with need, excitement, trepidation, and happiness all at once. My hands fly to the back of Caleb’s head, and I push him against me, holding him tight against my soaring chest. He lies down on top of me, all the way down, his hands trailing down my sides until they reach the waistline of my shorts. I grind my crotch against him, a needy “please”bursting from my lips. Caleb unzips my shorts, then pulls them down in one go, along with my briefs, careful not to drop my packer. More tears slide down my temples as he continues to press kisses all over my chest, his fingers teasing my hard dick.
“Baby,” he hums. “Baby, you’re so ready for me.”
I am. I think I’ve been ready my entire life. Not just for him, but for someone to see me and want me, to make love to me.
“Can I try something?” he asks, looking up at me. He frowns when he notices my tears. “Are you okay? You want me to stop?”
“No. I’m okay. It’s just a little overwhelming. But in a good way. And I don’t want you to stop.”
He nods, his lips puffy and glistening from making love to my chest.
“I mean it,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m good.”
“Okay.” The worry fades away, replaced by a wicked smile. “So… you know frotting, right?”
I nod, my dick pulsing with need. “Yes.”
“You wanna… try it?”
“Yes.” I think I’d say yes to just about anything right now, just as long as it involves some part of Caleb touching any part of me. I think the moment his dick touches mine, I’ll explode into a million tiny pieces, but I don’t care. I just want to try everything with him, feel everything.
Caleb quickly discards his own pants somewhere on the floor behind him, then reaches for the top drawer in the nightstand and pulls out a small bottle of lube. I watch him as he opens the bottle and pours some into his palm, his hard length jutting out in front of him. He’s long and thick, the cockhead all swollen and red, liquid glistening at the slit. My chest squeezes at the size of him. Envy moves through me, but I push it away. All dicks are different. Some are big, some are small, but mine has made Caleb hard. Really fucking hard. He wraps his hand around his cock and gives it a few pumps, cursing between his teeth as he slathers it in lube from tip to base. I drink him in, his magnificent body, how his abs ripple when he strokes himself, and how heavy and tight his balls look. I’m so fucking attracted to him, I want to scream. It’s like my body can’t contain how much I want him. I think I even whimper, because Caleb raises an eyebrow at me knowingly. “Ready for some top-tier frotting?”