by Ashley Logan
The corner of her mouth twitches and she raises her chin. "I'm going now."
"Good. I need a toss like you wouldn't believe."
"Have fun," she says, walking to the door and turning before she opens it. Without another word, she lifts her shirt and her bra to flash me her full, fantastic tits. "Maybe I'll show you the downstairs next time," she says with a grin before licking her lips in painfully slow motion. "Hope it helps, handsome."
Blowing me a kiss, she heads out the door.
Arranging my useless legs as fast as I can, I jump into my chair and haul ass to the lockable en suite to rub out the first of what I predict will be many great orgasms.
CHAPTER SIX
STACE
Scrawling my notes as quickly as possible, I look up to check the clock and spot Brad parked just beyond the nurses' station, watching me.
"Hey stalker. I thought I was coming to you."
Mischievous and shining, his eyes flirt with mine.
"You came earlier," he says, with a lopsided grin hot enough to blaze more color into my cheeks. "I was ready see you again," he adds, rolling back and forth in one place. The Bradley Jenkins equivalent of chomping at the bit.
"I see." My eyes travel to his pinned leg strapped in and stabilized by a rigid support. His overnight bag hangs behind him. "Did they actually discharge you?"
"I signed some paperwork. They ticked some boxes. I'm ready when you are."
"Give me two minutes." Rifling through my paperwork, I sign off the notes I'm writing as one of my call bells goes off. Standing up as I flip the file shut and put it on the stack. I shelve them all back in the office, set my completed handover notes next to the recording I made earlier and rush down the corridor, praying I don't have a pool of shit to clean.
Breathing a sigh of relief when Artie signals to me that his straw has fallen out of his water, I grab a new one from his stack and set it in his mouth. Running my eyes over him as he drinks his fill, I toss his old straw in the trash and grab his chart.
"How you doing, Art? You look a little off."
Reaching up to touch his head with his one working arm, he lowers it again shakily.
Touching my knuckles to his forehead, I look at the chart again. "Pain?" I ask, pulling the obs trolley closer to get the thermometer as he blinks once for yes.
"Bad?"
Two blinks. No.
The thermometer beeps and I pull it back to read it. Little high. Pulse a bit high, but regular. Checking the time, I make note of my observations before checking his medication schedule.
"We've got some ibuprofen to work with, Art. Should help keep things steady for you. I'm heading off in a minute, but I'll let Lou-Anna know to keep a good eye on you. We don't want you coming down with something along with everything else. But don't you worry," I add when his eyes begin to show signs of it. "We'll keep on top of it. I'll be back in a minute." Patting his hand, I give it a reassuring squeeze.
Heading past Brad, I shoot him an apologetic smile. "I'll just be a little longer."
"I'll keep him company," Marty says, from over in his corner chair look-out post - the one in the best position for his nightly vigil. Astri's coffee cart arrives from the east.
"I could use some tips," he adds, giving Brad a friendly shrug of his brows.
"On what? How to sit on your ass all day?" I say, winking at Brad. "I thought you were a pro?"
"Watch it Lane, or I'll spit in your coffee tomorrow."
Hand to my chest as if appalled, I laugh and wave him off. "You'd never be so disrespectful to Astri's coveted caffeine creations."
Ducking my head into the office, I call Lou-Anna to come with me to the clinic so that I can update her as I get Art's medication. Still taking off her bag, she signals she'll follow in a second.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm walking out the front door with Bradley Jenkins.
"Where are we headed and what time do you normally arrive home from a late shift?" Brad inquires, rolling casually along the sidewalk towards a car parked nearby.
"Kenmore - north end, and close to midnight"
"Kenmore?" he asks, apparently surprised. "I'm in Belmont! We're practically neighbors. I was expecting something closer to here. How come you don't work at Kenmore Mercy?"
"I thought I'd made it clear that my living situation was temporary," I say, cuffing him on the shoulder as he unlocks his car and throws his bag in the trunk. "Cool wheels."
"Thanks. I'm still getting to know her, but I like her just fine."
"Her?"
"Of course." He looks at me as if I'm weird. "All cars are girls."
"Not mine," I argue. "His name is Alfred."
"What is he? A Volvo?" he says with a chuckle.
"Shut up. He's a very respectable, gray Honda Civic."
"I love how you think telling me the color will alter my perception somehow," he says with a grin, wheeling around the car to open my door for me.
"Well, aren't we the gentleman." Taking off my shoulder bag, I climb in, flipping my hair out of the way, before pulling out its tie and running my fingers through it. Brad watches me a moment with a heated gaze.
"I can change into beast mode any time you like sweetheart, but me fucking you in the hospital parking lot probably isn't the best way to keep your job." Giving me that cheeky, dimpled grin of his, he shuts my door, still watching me through the window a moment before heading for his side.
He's surprisingly careful as he arranges his injured leg into position before sending his chair up onto the roof in its hoist. When he turns toward me to click his seatbelt in, he stops. "What?"
"Nothing. Just glad to see you're taking your recovery seriously."
"As if I'd risk a lecture when I'm short on time," he says, turning his engine on and putting the car in gear. "I want to savor every stolen moment with my naughty nurse. Rehab discussions are far from my mind."
"Is that so? What is it that your mind plans to do with approximately ten minutes of my time?"
"I could probably be done in two," he jokes as we drive through Buffalo watching the streetlights.
"Mmm. My hero."
His grin fades slightly at my words, so I know he's still haunted by his past actions, but he manages to push through and keep most of a smile. "I got you off in half that time," he teases. "But it's not a race. We can finish together if you like."
"Pull over."
"What?" Looking at me, he shakes his head, his mouth trying to decide if it should laugh or be serious. "I was just kidding. I'll take my time."
"Pull the car over. Somewhere dark-ish. Private."
His expression sobers. "Yes ma'am."
Pulling around the back of a church, he parks under a tree in the darkened corner of the lot.
"A church?"
"No-one goes to church at midnight on a Wednesday. I've checked."
Laughing, I take off my seatbelt and shrug out of my sweater. "Do you have protection?"
"Uh, yeah," he says, reaching into the console for his wallet. "Are we really doing this?"
"You don't want to?"
He takes off his own seatbelt. "I never said that."
"Good. Does your seat go back any further?"
Adjusting his seat, he looks to me with caution. "I was hoping to make things more romantic for our first time. For you," he adds. "I'll be happy anywhere if I'm inside you."
Shoving my pants to my ankles, I leave them on the floor as I climb over. "Who needs romance when we can have a heart-pounding, ultra-shady, stealth quickie behind a church?"
"You make a good point," he agrees, the husk in his voice feeding into my growing appetite. Grabbing my face, he brings it to his. "I'm loving these stolen moments, Stace. Loving them," he repeats before taking my lips in a rough, mind-consuming kiss.
His hands are on my ass, alternating between a firm hand and a feather's touch, and it's driving me crazy. Breaking away from his kiss with a strangled whimper, I shuffle back so I can get into his shorts. Wrapping m
y fingers around his swollen, velvety warmth, I moan again as I think about taking it inside me.
"Lift."
Doing as I command, Brad holds us both up while I shove his shorts down.
"You're very efficient," he says shakily as he lowers us down again and I snatch the shiny foil packet from his hand. "If you weren't a nurse, I might be worried about how you became so proficient at such a task."
"You always get this yappy when girls touch you?" I ask, slowly rolling on the condom and loving the way his eyes flicker and close at the same time. His chest rises and falls as quickly as my own, but his eyes remain shut a moment longer. Until he starts speaking.
"I didn't want to say, but I think I fucking love you, Stace." As he says it, his eyes open.
He means it.
His breathing kicks up a notch and I'm not surprised to find mine doing the same. My heart is pounding in my chest, and the urge to jump on his dick just got ten times stronger.
"I love the way you tease me," he continues, "And how you swear at me with that gorgeous fucking mouth. I love how much you care about people. That you smell amazing, and are small enough to fit like this in my car. I love how when shit doesn't go your way, you make crazy plans to just get on with it. I love that all your plans end with getting ice-cream. I love that I never feel like a fucking cripple when I'm with you, and that you're sitting half naked on my lap behind a fucking church. I love you."
His eyes never leave mine. I swallow hard and tuck once of his short curls behind his ear.
"So that's a 'yes' to the yappy question?" I ask, biting my lip as I pull my soaking panties to the side and slide readily onto his rock hard dick.
Both of us moan. One of Brad's hands clamps around my ass driving himself deeper as his other hand pulls me back to his lips. The fullness inside, coupled with hungry lips and the 'who', and 'where' of it all is too much. I've been deprived too long and as pleasure takes over my brain, I ride him like there's no tomorrow.
Breaking away from my lips, Brad swears and his hand shoots up to grip his headrest. "More. Show me more," he grunts, reaching for my shirt.
Pulling it over my head, I toss it aside, slowing down to do so. His eyes spark bursts of pleasure inside as they leisurely roam over my body. His dick jerks inside me as his gaze lingers where we're joined. It makes me whimper and grind into him again. Clenching his jaw, Brad raises his eyes to take in my breasts, and then my face. His eyes lock with mine as his fingers tangle in my loose hair.
Lacking control, I move faster as he drags my bra straps down my arms until it flops down and my breasts pop out. Heavy, full and bouncing with my every move, they add to the pleasure building within. Brad wets his lips and shakes his head as he grips his headrest with both hands and watches me climb my peak. "Fucking beautiful."
The next thing I know, his hand is tangled in my hair again, tugging as he drives me deeper and harder while his hot mouth closes over my nipple. All at once, everything is turned on and my body crashes into overdrive. Bucking into him uncontrollably, I fist my hands in his hair and cry out.
"Brad! Oh my fuck!"
He pulls me close, his arms firmly tensed around me. A low rumble grows to a growl, erupting from him as I'm belted by wave after wave of carnal pleasure and I know he's with me. Clinging to each other, we ride it out together.
His arms relax as I start to quiet, and his lips gently whisper over my skin as he plants tiny kisses and sweet words over my heart. Setting my bra back in place, he runs a finger downward, between the strap and my skin, untwisting it as he goes and lingering at the top of my breast.
"You're going to be a few minutes late," he whispers, fingering the lace lightly and making no move to help dismount me.
Leaning in to kiss him long and slow, I pull back with a happy sigh. "Totally worth it."
I toss my hair behind me and tie it back before reaching for my shirt. Donning it, I slide backwards and reach for my bag as Brad deals with the condom. After rummaging in my bag, I pull out a pack of travel wipes and hand him one.
An amused smile accompanies a twitch of his eyebrows.
"It's not what you think."
His smile grows. "What do I think?"
"Probably that I packed them knowing I might cause sticky messes on the ride home," I say with a shrug as I climb back into my seat and pull on my pants.
"Forward planning is one of your strengths, as I recall," he says with a chuckle as he tidies himself and pulls his shorts up.
"I carry them because of Ry," I inform him. "If I was planning what just happened, I would have been prepared enough to bring my own protection."
"Which, in a way, is probably also because of Ry?" he suggests with a chuckle.
"Something like that," I concede, pulling on my seat belt. "I sure hope this church doesn't have security cameras in their parking lot."
Brad laughs. "Churches have no need for such things. The eyes of God are all-knowing."
"Urgh," I say as he starts reversing. "You sound like my mom."
"She's part of the God-squad, huh?"
"To the extreme. She's got psychological torture methods that surpass any bible recommendations I've ever heard of. I liken growing up in her house to living in a prisoner of war camp. The bad kind, not the ones where they drank tea and played cards while they waited out the war."
Digesting that for a moment, Brad scopes the street signs for our next turn.
"I'm not sure any POWs would report that kind of peaceful experience if you asked them, but was that why freedom tasted so good to you?"
"Drinking a full bedpan would almost taste better than swallowing her garbage." Sighing, I shake my head. "Just a little longer, and we'll be out of there. I'm not entirely ungrateful for her... assistance. I wouldn't have been able to finish my degree and provide for Ry otherwise, but now I'm set up without ever having needed a thing from Sodermann. I do not want that guy having any control over me, and I do not want him teaching my son how to be a man."
Brad turns onto my street and I ask him to pull over.
"Here?" he asks, slowing to a stop and squinting down the street. "Isn't that Alfred down there?"
"Yeah. I don't want Mom seeing you drop me off. How do I look?" I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt and turning in my seat. "Do I look like I stole a fucking hot ten minutes of sin behind a church?"
"Totally. Like a sexy little devil who's strict mom would be utterly ashamed. You definitely look like the kind of dirty girl who would replace the Lord's name with the word fuck while she's squeezing me with her cock-pocket."
Smacking him in the arm as he laughs, I pull down the visor to check myself in the mirror.
"You look beautiful. And she'll be in bed and won't have a clue."
I shoot him a dirty look.
"She waits up for you?"
"How else will she remain convinced of my commitment to abide by her rules?" Shrugging into my sweater, I pull my bag onto my shoulder and stop.
"I haven't given you my secret cell phone number!" Digging in my bag, I find a pen and paper. "I keep it on silent and only check it if I'm alone, so don't be offended if I don't reply right away." Scribbling the number down, I lean across and drop it in his lap as I give him a quick kiss.
"Thanks for the ride," I say with a wink and a grin.
"You'd better get that 'I just got fucked' smile in check, missy," Brad warns. "Your mom will definitely find out what you've been up to when she sees me dragging my knuckles two steps behind you, looking to make that sexy smile bigger."
Squirming a little as my face warms, I inhale slowly, raise my chin and get my smile in check. "Goodnight Bradley."
"Goodnight Ms. Lane."
"YOU'RE LATE."
Closing my eyes, as I gently shut the front door, I dig deep for any shred of practiced obedience I have left.
"Someone took a turn at handover and I had to stay a little longer," I offer quietly. It's not even a lie. "You didn't need to wait up for me Mom."
"
I couldn't sleep knowing you were out there doing goodness knows what. Something sinister could have happened to you."
The implication that she would care about my well-being is almost laughable. Her words suggest she fears for my safety, but her true meaning is as transparent as glass. I'm a whore with little or no self-control, who will get myself raped or killed if I give in to my raging sexual desires. More to the point, my turning up in a dumpster, or returning home pregnant with another illegitimate child would destroy the image she's worked so hard to build for herself. What would the neighbors think?
"Thank you for waiting up. As you can see, I'm quite safe, though dog-tired. Did Ry go down okay?"
"He was fine. He loves his Granny and behaves very well. I've never had any trouble at all with him."
I bear every slight with a polite smile. "He is a good boy. Thank you for watching him."
Nudging my glasses up and rubbing my face as if exhausted, I take a step closer to the stairs.
"Yes. Well. I'd hate to see the angel led down the wrong path."
Stepping forward, she purposely looks up the stairs instead of into my eyes as she holds her face at the usual angle. Relieved by the signal for the end of the discussion, I kiss her cheek and thank her again before saying goodnight and heading upstairs. As much as I'd like to run up, I take my time, not giving her the pleasure of knowing she affects me so deeply.
Checking on Ry, I shut myself in my room and just breathe. Safely out of sight, I give in to the giddy rush inside of me. I've had a wonderful night and she is none the wiser. Releasing my hair and running my hand through it, I think of my time with Bradley Jenkins and smile. A moment of remembering today's rebellion is all it takes to send my mother's damaging words into the background of my mind.
Opening my bag, I feel for the tear in the lining and fish around inside it for my phone. Pulling it out, I see a message from Marty and two from Brad.
I take a quick look at Marty's first, knowing I'll want to linger over anything Brad has sent me. I smile at Marty's message that he's struck out again, but hopes I hit a homer.
Tapping out that my batting average is improving exponentially, I send it off before taking a breath to calm the butterflies in my stomach as I pull up the first message from Brad.
