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Believe me, keeping my mouth shut and the drool from dripping down my chin is a full-time job. I’ve talked to my best friend relentlessly about lusting over my dad’s friend and patient. She tells me to pull up my big girl panties and keep my head in the game. A task which is only getting harder and harder. Literally.
“Still gotta work on my upper body. You using the treadmill today?” Rhodes asks in between each rep. You’d never know he went through surgery only weeks ago with how in tune he is with his body. The amputation of his leg hasn’t stopped him from continuing with his day-to-day tasks. There are days when I wonder why I’m still here in a nursing capacity. Sure, the first few days were rough. Sleeping didn’t come easy for him, and he was up and down a lot. Grumbling about using the crutches, ready for this shit to be over. All I could do was make sure he had his prescribed pain meds. Not that he willingly took them after his second day home. More times than not, he’d take Tylenol instead. I cooked and cleaned up after the two of us. Really, it’s been no different than caring for a sick family member. That’s how good he was at handling the amputation of his leg. And news flash, these military men I’m surrounded by in one form or the other are insistent on toughing it out.
“As long as you don’t mind?” I state it more like a question than an answer.
This has been our routine ever since the physical therapist showed up the first week after his surgery. The PT showed me the ropes for the first few days, then I took over. While the daily exercises aren’t difficult and Rhodes could probably do them in his sleep by now, I still watch over him and look for any signs of over-exertion. When he’s done, I’ll hit the treadmill for thirty or so minutes. He goes about lifting weights, working diligently on his upper body and doing leg lifts with only one side of his body, and I try not to fall flat on my ass while watching him. I like to joke that I’m allergic to lifting weights. It’s not my idea of fun. Neither is walking at a pace so fast I’m practically jogging, but exercise is the key to living a healthy life or some such bullshit the doctors and nurses spew at you. Yeah, yeah, I’m the latter, sue me. After standing all day in a hospital and being dead on your feet, the last thing anyone wants to do is willingly step into a gym.
“Not at all.” Rhodes grabs a towel and wipes the sweat off his face, giving me ample time to gawk at his body. Yep, forgive me, God, for I have sinned, but if sinning means looking at a man as handsome as a Grecian god, so be it. Never in my life have I been jealous of a towel as much as I am right now. I only wish it were my tongue when he moves it down toward his chest, which sadly also means my time at staring at Rhodes is over for the time being.
“Thanks,” I somehow manage to say without sounding like a flaming idiot. Rhodes grabs his crutch, refusing to use both, which shows how strong he is as a person and also how stubborn he is. He stands up, and I go to take a step back when the tips of his fingers graze the skin between my top and leggings. I’m frozen in place, standing still, wondering if I should move or not. Maybe it’s the fact that this is the first time Rhodes has touched me in more than a professional way. Until this very moment, I kind of assumed the feeling was one-sided, not that I have any reason to feel this way. I’ve seen Rhodes in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs before, and he has not once hidden what he’s packing.
“You’re welcome, and Kyra?” I lift my head, no longer focusing on his chest or the smattering of brown hair that makes me want to rub against him like a cat in heat. I want to know what it’d feel like to have nothing between us, to see what Rhodes is capable of doing to my body. A shiver takes a hold of me at the thought.
As it stands now, the copious amounts of self-induced orgasms are barely scratching the surface of my pent-up desire. I swear my fingers are going to turn into shriveled raisins before too long or with my luck arthritis will set in and I’ll really be in trouble.
“Yes?” My voice is breathless and uneven, my chest rising and falling with each moment our eyes are on one another’s.
“You’ve got something in your hair.” Rhodes' hand moves away from my hip, the tips of his fingers dragging up the length of my torso until he removes them before he meets the underside of my breast.
Bummer. I wanted him to keep touching me.
Try as I might, but taking a deep exhale to hopefully have him linger longer doesn’t help. Rhodes keeps one hand on his crutch as he takes his touch away from me, moving to the top of my head. My hair is in desperate need of a wash. I'm on day four, and it is way past time with how overheated I am around Rhodes. By tomorrow, it’ll be standing on its own with enough grease to change the oil in a motor. I’m almost afraid Rhodes will see just how bad it is.
My hair reaches the top of my ass and is thicker than I care to admit. The last thing I want to do when it feels like this is the hottest month in Florida is blow dry my hair. Every year, I swear it’s just one month and then the next month comes only for it to be even worse. This summer feels like the heatwaves have been days on end with higher heat indexes than the day before. Throw in the humidity staying in the ninetieth percentile and the only way to stay cool is to stay inside or sit your ass in a body of water.
“What?” I quirk my head to the side. He comes away with a leaf. The top knot on my head is always getting into something. “Oh, well, that must’ve been there for a while now,” I respond. I’ve taken over watering Rhodes' plants in the front and backyard. He has a yard most people would dream of. Situated on the beach, his backyard is less than a hundred feet away from the ocean.
“I imagine so.” Rhodes hand comes away. The leaf is more of a petal, one of the rare colors of a hibiscus plant he has near the small front porch. The beautiful and bold purple color gives way to a fuchsia and then pink. The bright yellow stigma makes me love the flower even more. I didn’t expect the lush landscape surrounding Rhodes' home. It was a huge difference to my father’s place where I’ve been staying between stints as a travel nurse. It doesn’t even have a yard since Dad prefers to live in a condo with little to no maintenance. Being with Rhodes has been a nice change of scenery.
“I’ll just get my workout done now.” Being this close, practically feeling the heat emanating from his body, and not being able to do a thing about it is slowly killing me.
“Alright.” We go our separate ways—him to the weight bench and me to the treadmill. The entire time, I can sense his gaze on my body as I walk away.
2. Rhodes
Icouldn’t take it anymore. Thirty minutes in, and my dick wanted me to either take her up against the mirrored wall or walk the hell away. Kyra’s ass in a pair of black biker shorts, tight and molded to her hot-as-hell body, did a number on me. An ass I’m going to eventually sink my teeth into as well as my cock. The front of her body…Fuck, it has me ready to beg for her to get on my cock and ride me until we both come. Her tank top did nothing to stop the raging need I feel to consume every square inch of her. When I left, she was still on the treadmill. We gave each other a quick nod, then I was out the door, using my fucking crutch. A couple of more weeks until I’m done using it. Then there will be no holding back, I’m going all in and making Kyra my woman.
Today started like normal. We were both up at the same time. My military background is engrained, like clockwork, and I’m sure her upbringing has a lot to do with her being an early riser, too. I made a protein shake, and she had a cup of coffee. The two of us moved seamlessly in the kitchen, and when we were done, she went her way and I went mine.
It's nice having a place to call my own. When I first returned to Florida, I lived in Kade’s house. It took a bit, to no one’s fault but my own, but I knew the first home I bought would be the last one. The last thing I wanted was a place that needed more work than it was worth. It’s why I waited, and when this house came on the market, a two-story, three-bedroom, two-bathroom newly renovated home from the sixties with mature landscaping and just steps from the ocean, I was sold. I put in an offer above asking price, probably a dumbass move on my part, but I knew this home would be mine until they laid my body in the cold hard ground. At the time, I didn’t think too much about a having woman or a family in my life.
Then Kyra entered the picture, and everything changed.
Diego would talk about his daughter, show us a picture from time to time, and we all noticed when he stopped, though none of us questioned him. She got older, and considering there were more men besides Kade and me, we knew Diego would keep her protected, even from men he called his friends. That’s why when she appeared in my hospital room, I’d experienced the shock of my life. The last time I saw a picture of her, Kyra must have been on the cusp of her teenage years. Diego should shoot me; she’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and one day soon, I’m going to have her in every way possible.
My cock stays rock hard every waking hour. Being surrounded by her while she changed the dressing on my knee didn’t fucking help, and when she had to help me in the shower the first few times, it took everything in me not to pull her inside the stall with me. The only reason I didn’t reach for her would be humbling to say the least—using a shower chair is a damn boner killer.
Still, I saw Kyra glance down at my boxer briefs, watched as her nipples tightened into hard peaks, and I definitely noticed when she turned her head away after I caught her looking at the outline of my hard cock.
At least the shower chair is gone now. When we got home after my last appointment, I went straight to my bathroom. With one hand using my crutch and the other on the chair, I brought it out and went into the garage. I’ll be donating it the next time I’m at the doctor’s office. Shit’s expensive, and I’m lucky enough to have a padded bank account. Being part business owner at Whitecaps with Kade also helps, though right now, he has to do most of the work until I’m back on my feet. Pun fucking intended.
“Damn it.” I make my way into the master bedroom then head straight for the bathroom, using the crutch I’m destined to deal with for a couple of more weeks. I’m going to have calluses on the palm of my hand from jacking my cock so much. I prop the crutch on the outside of the shower and turn the faucet to the hottest setting knowing cold water won’t do a single thing to calm my ass down. All I have left to do is take off the compression bandage, my gym shorts, and boxer briefs. I use the wall to help steady myself as I strip everything off. My cock lies thick and heavy along my stomach. My hand grips the shaft, thumb and forefinger squeezing the tip to stave off the need to come right away. When the steam finally fills the room, I push the sliding glass door to the left and use the wall once again to step inside the shower.
There’s no way I’m going to last long today. The water pounds on my body while I prop myself up on the green tiled wall with one hand. My other doesn’t stop stroking my length from root to fucking tip. In a perfect world, Kyra would be in here with me, naked, all her wild hair tamed by the water, and I’d be telling her exactly how to suck my cock. She’d be on her knees, nails digging into the back of my thighs as I hold the top of her head, guiding her to take me to down her throat. I imagine her cheeks hollowing, chest rising and falling, her pretty tits moving with each and every movement. Tears rolling down her cheeks from taking me so hard and deep. And as much as I’d want to come inside her pretty mouth, there’s no way she wouldn’t get hers. In between each grunt, I’d demand her to finger-fuck herself, telling her to use two. Not even three of her slender fingers would amount to the girth of my dick. It wouldn’t take her long to get close, until her body convulses, the palm of her hand working her clit while she slides in and out of her wet depths. Meanwhile, I’m trying to prolong the process, but it’s too damn hard, and after touching her smooth skin, I’m fucking done for.
“Kyra,” I growl out her name. I watch as my come splatters the wall before washing down the drain. Soon enough, it will be where it belongs—inside of every part of Kyra. I’ll say one thing: the days are numbered; I’m counting them down until I’ve got Kyra beneath me, on top of me, or taking her from behind. I hope like hell she’s fucking ready.
3. Kyra
