Felicity, Sexy, but Not SO Innocent. The Conclusion

The Conclusion

“You do it so beautifully,” he murmured, voice low. “I know,” I teased softly, smiling.

With a steady breath, I lifted myself. My strong arms took my weight as my hips floated free for a heartbeat,  suspended then lowered onto the couch with careful grace. The shift was slow on purpose. A slow drag of my body across the cushion.  A slow exhale as I settled in.

My immobile long legs tangled slightly, sliding against each other in that soft, effortless way they sometimes did when I transferred. He noticed instantly, chest rising once, deep.He moved closer, almost without thinking, his hand hovering near my legs but not touching,  as if he needed permission he could barely keep himself from taking.

“May I?” he asked, voice unsteady.

“You may,” I whispered.

He reached for my right leg first, fingers gentle but trembling. He guided it into place, lifting it as though it were something precious. The weight surprised him, and I saw the realization pass over his face, he loved to hold me like this.

His hand moved along the curve of my calf, then under my knee, positioning my leg on the couch with slow, reverent care. And then he stopped.  Not letting go. Not able to.

His hand stayed on my thigh, just resting there, warm, steady. I watched him swallow hard, eyes fixed on my legs like he was seeing something rare, something forbidden, something he wanted more than he should.

I leaned back on the couch, letting my dress slip a little higher with the movement, and his fingers twitched against my thigh. He looked up at me, dazed, caught, completely undone. I let a slow smile spread across my red lips.

Then, without breaking eye contact, I dragged the tip of my tongue along the bottom one a teasing, unhurried motion. His breath shuddered. And I whispered, “You like watching me… don’t you?”

My wheelchair was beside the couch, angled just so, like part of the scene… like he wanted it there, wanted all of me present, every detail I chose to show. He became a man who worshipped those details. My dress. My mouth.  My long legs stretched along the couch.

And the slow way I moved when I wanted to tease him.

But his hand grabbed my stilettos and his fingers slowly removed them from my feet. His thumb traced a slow circle from my ankle, inching higher. Higher still, until his fingertips brushed the inside of my thigh, just shy…. 

“I want to worship every inch of you, Miss Felicity. Especially the parts you think no one else sees or cares.”

I should’ve reminded him that my body didn’t work the way other women did, that it took time, patience, a kind of attention most men weren’t willing to give. But the words died in my throat as his fingers grazed the lace of my panties, his touch feather-light but electric.

What little movement I had, pressed into his touch.  And suddenly, I understood: he wasn’t just attracted to me despite my body. He was attracted to me because of it. The way I moved in my wheelchair. The way I didn’t walk. The way I owned every inch of myself, broken or not.

He knelt between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs, pushing the fabric of my red dress higher until it bunched at my waist. His hands sliding up to grip my hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of my panties. 

“Tell me what you need from me”

I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling hard to make him groan. “Patience,” I said, my voice already thick with sexual needs. “It takes me a while to…”

“I know,” he interrupted, his breath hot against the lace between my legs. “And I’m going to savor every second.”

He didn’t rush. He started with my mouth, kissing me like he had all the time in the world, his tongue sliding against mine in slow, deep strokes that had my toes curling (or they would have, if I could feel them). His hands were everywhere, cupping my breasts through the fabric of my dress, rolling my nipples between his fingers until they were hard little peaks, then dipping lower to trace the waistband of my panties again.

He made me wait. His fingers worked me open slowly, one at a time, his thumb never leaving my clitoris, his mouth never leaving my skin. He bit my nipples through my dress until I was whimpering, my back arched off the couch. And when he finally, finally dragged my panties down my legs and buried his face between my thighs, I cried out, my fingers fisting in his hair.

“Oh, fuck…”

His tongue was relentless, as he flicked my clitoris, over and over, until my thighs were trembling or they would’ve been, if they could. He groaned against me, the vibration making me clutch at his hair, my hips lifting as much as they could.

“You taste like sin,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving in again, his fingers curling inside me, finding that spot that made my vision white out. 

“Don’t stop,” I panted, my voice breaking. “Please, don’t stop...”

He didn’t. He sucked my clitoris between his lips, his fingers pumping in and out of me, slow and deep, until I was sobbing, my body tightening, tightening  “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

And I did. I came with a broken cry, my back bowing off the couch, my fingers tangled in his hair like I was the only thing keeping him anchored.  He crawled up my body, his cock hard and thick against my thigh, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that tasted like me. His erection sliding against my slick folds. 

And then he was inside me, inch by slow, delicious inch, stretching me open, filling me in a way that made my eyes roll back. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body adjusting to him with a slow, deep burn.

He moved slowly at first, letting me get used to the feel of him, his penis dragging against every sensitive inch of me. But soon, the slow burn became a fire, and his thrusts grew harder, deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I came with a scream it had been years, my body locking up, my vagina around him, my nails raking down his back. He followed me over the edge with a groan, his cock pulsing inside me as he spilled into me, his hips against mine.

“Holy shit,” he murmured after a long moment, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. I laughed, breathless and satisfied.

“Told you I was worth the wait.”

The end
Ashley

I really hope you enjoyed Felicity. She’s a sexual fantasy of mine. 

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