Page 24 of Kissin Irish by Morgan
I expected much more wind in my face, but Irish only rode about a mile out. He came to a crawl so I could holler for Waldo. He would keep a lookout. He couldn’t call for Waldo because that’d only confuse the dog. We kept up the search for an hour, circling the parameter of Royal Road as much as we could. I yelled until my throat hurt.
“Maybe he went back home?” I didn’t want to think about the alternative, that he was lost down the highway, darting between semis.
“In my experience, dogs always find their way back home,” Irish said to comfort me.
Waldo had been nowhere but Royal Road for years. All the training he’d had about the mean streets in Nashville was probably long forgotten. He’d get run over for sure. The thought was excruciating. And it was all my fault. I hadn’t even passed the training to deserve a guide dog. Waldo hadn’t been put to use like he should’ve been because I went nowhere and did nothing. No wonder he ran off. He was as bored as I was.
“You want to go home and check if he’s returned? Irish asked.
“No. I don’t want to go back there, not now. Not ever.”
Irish didn’t argue. He pressed the pedal to the metal, and we were off. Where to? Fuck if I knew. I didn’t care. The spring day froze me to the bone. Irish’s body was my only warmth. Clinging to his back, I let the vibration of the open road wash away all my worries.
“Where are we?” I asked a lifetime later when we rolled to a stop.
Irish helped me off the bike. “On top of a mountain. We’re at Fall’s Creek at the falls.”
Taking off my helmet, I shook out my hair. The sun warmed my face. “You brought me to a waterfall? You know I can’t see it.”
“Does that matter?” He asked.
“No.”
Irish grabbed the helmet away and took my hands to guide me to sit on the bike in front of him. His breath hit my cheek, tickling it. Minty fresh, his breath was ready for a close up. He was so close. His hands landed on my thighs. They vibrated like the motorcycle had.
“You said you wanted to be treated just like everyone else, right?”
“Yes. It’s my dearest wish,” I said, poking fun of myself.
“I promise… I’ll try to treat you… not like any other girl but as if you aren’t just blind.”
Leaning my head back, I inhaled a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled different here. The start of spring floated on the air. I could tell we were far from the city even though I still smelled the exhaust from Irish’s motorcycle.
Amazingly enough, I could smell water nearby.
“Wait. Do you bring all the girls here?”
“No one else.”
“I love it here. But I don’t hear the falls.”
“We’re not to the falls yet. We’re on top of a mountain though. Beautiful.”
“I bet. I wish I could see it.”
“I was talking about you,” Irish mumbled against my lips.
Reaching out for his neck, my lips parted, letting his mouth have its way. His soft lips fumbled against mine. Our noses butted until he found the right angle. His tongue slithered in to touch mine before he engulfed my throat. This kiss meant for me was nothing like the one in the locker room.
Full of a greater desire, it weakened my knees. I returned it full force. Irish’s hands stayed on my thighs making his kiss even more intense, more erotic. He felt me up with his kiss. He stroked my pussy with his kiss. He made his intentions known with his kiss.
Those intentions? He planned to fuck me but not here.
“Climb back around.” Irish helped me back into my bitch seat on the bike and handed me the helmet.
We rode on to the waterfall. When I took off my helmet the second time, the thunder of the rushing water surrounded me. Irish led me closer. There was electricity in the air. I sensed the danger. But I trusted Irish. The mist hit my face. I didn’t have to see the falls to grasp the magnificence of it.
We weren’t alone. I heard the crowd of people enjoying the same view we shared. The laughter of children running and the scolds of their mothers warning that they were too close to the falls.
