Page 12 of Road Trip
Chapter Four
Abra
This was so fun! It wasn’t often that a chick like me got to play with a guy like Kelly. A fleeting concern flickered through my mind that he might be disappointed by my thirty-two-year-old, allergic-to-exercise body, but the way he touched me so reverently, I felt like the golden idol Harrison Ford worshipped in the beginning of Indiana Jones. He steals it, of course, and then there’s the whole running for his life down the corridor with boulders, poison darts, lowering stone walls, leaps over bottomless chasms. Surely a dalliance with a gorgeous specimen couldn’t be that hazardous?
I backed him into the shower and had to really fight to not laugh at his nervous expression.
“Kelly, have you never showered with a woman before?” He was getting all shy, trying to cover his ginormous and still growing cock. I pulled his hands away and said, “Don’t hide from me. It’s a nice compliment.”
When I turned and bent over to turn on the water, I was grateful for two things: first, that the tub was clean and there were no stray pubes or mildew, and second, for the sounds coming from Kelly. They were somewhere between a whimper, a pant, and a kid in a toy store who’d just found something he couldn’t live without.
Once the water was ready, I got him in first, thankful his bandage was waterproof. The hospital had given me extra for him, along with some bacitracin to fight infection. Playing doctor with him would be fun, but I couldn’t get the picture of him falling to the ground as they threw gas at him out of my mind. It had played over and over like a movie in my head while I’d waited to see him in the hospital. Tending to his wounds would help convince me he was okay, that the worst hadn’t happened.
“Let me grab my bag. You get all nice and wet for me,” I said, leaving him for a moment to run in the other room. I noticed I had a new message on my phone from the Hayward Police Department. I froze. I stared at the phone like it was a cobra about to strike, ready to end my life, or at least my enjoyment of life. It could be nothing. It could be about home.It could be anything, but I wondered if it had to do with the runaway I had in my shower and the night’s events. I reached for the phone gingerly, still afraid of what I might hear, and pressed the voicemail button.
“This is Lieutenant Christine Reynolds calling from the Hayward Police Department. It is very important that I speak with Officer Kelly Graham as soon as possible. I understand he’s with you. Please have him contact me as soon as he is able at …”
I saved the message and disconnected, breathing a sigh of relief that at least the cobra hadn’t bitten me. As for Kelly…did I tell him? Did I interrupt what was about to happen so he could face reality? The counselor in me was on the fence. I knew an escape from reality could be detrimental to dealing with trauma. But I also knew that he was currently safe and about to be in good hands.
I returned to the bathroom, ready to tell him all about the call, but I was stopped in my tracks. I had to stop and watch him maneuver in the shower. What a fucking sight! Watching him run his head under the water and let it run down his face…I felt like I was watching a model in a photo shoot. The way he moved wasn’t natural. It was all sensual, methodical, and fucking sexy as all get-out. My mouth was watering at the thought of where I could explore first.
“Let me wash your hair,” I said, my voice coming out a little husky.
He smiled with a lovely mottling of his cheeks and made room for me to get under the water.
“How do you feel?” I asked him as he leaned back far enough for me to lather the shampoo in his short hair. I was careful of the cut he had behind his ear.
“Like this is the greatest shower of my life.”
I laughed at his pronouncement and his continued moans and groans of pleasure. Wow. He sounded like that just from washing his hair? Wait until I got my mouth on him.
“Rinse and I’ll wash your front.” I stepped back against the wall, giving him room to back up under the spray. Facing him, I was so damn short I barely came up to his sternum, so from this vantage, his bulging back muscles were just about at eye level. I ran my hands down his back, using the shampoo to wash his skin, careful of the bruising on his lower back. He was going to be so sore. I was ready to stay in and play doctor with him if he wasn’t up to the concert later. That thought surprised selfish me. In a pleasant way. Normally I let nothing get in the way of my good time on a runaway, but for him I’d make an exception? Interesting.
“Your hands feel so good, Abra,” he said, almost in a whisper. He turned around to face me and put his hands on either side of my head, letting the water hit him in the face. I couldn’t resist leaning forward and giving him a gentle kiss on his pec, getting my hair and face wet in the process. He groaned and his hips rolled forward, once again reminding me of his immense size.
“Let me wash your front.”
“Let me wash you, Abra. You’ve already taken care of me. Let me take care of you.”
Sweeter words had never been uttered. With that, he backed up and placed me under the spray, gently running his hands through my hair to get it wet enough, then he took his time massaging my scalp with the shampoo. I was jelly in his hands, ready to puddle on the shower floor.
“That’s nice,” I purred.
“I’m not done yet.” And with that, he washed every inch of my body from my neck down to the last toe. He took his time massaging my shoulders and arms, even my hands. He maneuvered me to the back wall of the shower and knelt down before me, working the soap into my thighs and took extra time going all deep tissue massage on my calves. I wasn’t used to being the one cared for. It felt strange to give up that control, but for some reason I trusted this guy. I had a fleeting thought that he probably wouldn’t be this nice to me if he knew the real me, but part of the fun of running away was that you could lock away those skeletons in the closet.
After placing my left foot on his knee and getting the soap between every toe, he turned his face and kissed the inside of my thigh delicately.
“Tell me this is okay,” he said, looking up at me with the most lust-filled expression. Gone was my Boy Scout. In his place was a man who was ready to take what he wanted. Who was I to deny him? I lifted my leg and rested my foot on the inside ledge of the tub and leaned back against the wall, presenting him with his desire.
It turned out to be the right move. Those giant hands came up the back of my legs and held me rock solid as he made his way toward the juncture of my thighs. He took his time dropping gentle kisses on my pelvis while I squirmed, but then those hands tightened, holding me immobile.
Remember how I said the dude had some mad kissing skills despite his lack of experience? That applied to this type of kissing as well. His eager tongue brushed the entirety of my flesh in long, gentle strokes. I pictured a lion giving its mate a thorough cleaning. From the outside of my folds, to the inner labia, he slowly made his way toward my core until he was fucking me gently with his tongue, lapping me like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. It excited all of my nerve endings to a critical point. I needed a little more attention, just a little more, before I could find that enormous climax that was building beyond reason.
“Kelly, that’s amazing! If you want me to come, I need—OHHHHGODFUCK! I need you to use your fingers, Kelly, and I need—”
“Like this?” he asked as he inserted his middle finger and crooked it just right, like he was beckoning to my G-spot to let him in for a ride we would never forget. I was beginning to question my earlier conclusion that he was inexperienced. Perhaps he was a natural?
“YES! Yes, like that. Keep stroking it like that, that’s perfect. Now use that fantastic fucking tongue on my cli—YESSSS!”
