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The silence that was accompanied by the scrape of her teeth across her lower lip provided all the answers he needed. She tugged the duvet more tightly around her form.
“So, what happens now? If you’re not calling a rescue party.”
He was still figuring out that part. Someone would come across them eventually, and they couldn’t be that far from the services, four or five miles at the most. Maybe they could walk back. It’d give him time to figure out a story that explained her presence without incriminating her. Call him a softie, but he really didn’t want to hand her over to the authorities. They were always so black and white in their views, whereas he preferred a more nuanced approach. One that looked at the bigger picture, and the long-term impact. He didn’t want her winding up in jail or being handed a fine she clearly couldn’t afford.
They could afford to get a bus fixed.
Hell, their manager had been promising them a new ride for aeons. And whatever happened, they’d get to the gig in time. Taxis existed.
He thought about calling one, but that would require knowing where the actual fuck he was.
Bertha chose that moment to make a rather alarming groan. She trembled on her ancient suspension before lurching forward on a severe diagonal. It toppled both him and Jodi, so they wound up in a tangle of limbs and duvet.
As her soft and curvy body squashed him into the mattress, Paul embraced the moment of contact. Heat enveloped him. Her fragrance tickled his nose. Maybe he’d just fuck the band and stay right where he was until some good Samaritan stumbled across him. Other vehicles presumably used the ford. One would come by eventually.
“You know, righting yourself will be easier if you squirm less,” he remarked. It was hard not to be enchanted by her presence atop of him. “Or is it supposed to distract me from the fact you’re going through my pockets?”
That got precisely the reaction he expected. She froze, mouth open. “I was not.”
“Course not. You were just enjoying a grope, then?”
“No…” Her denial turned into a groan, when it apparently occurred to her she did, in fact, have a hand in the pocket of his joggers. Her right one. In his left pocket. There wasn’t anything in there besides fluff and maybe an old ticket stub, so it wasn’t going to gain her anything. However, she was but a hair’s breadth from his cock.
Jodi met his gaze, then looked down at her position. Her teeth dug into her plump lip again.
When he glanced down, all he could see were her boobs and the ridge of his rapidly thickening hard-on.
She peeped up at him again through her eyelashes. “Um, sorry.” Way too carefully she extracted her hand and raised it aloft to show that it was empty. “I didn’t mean to.” She bit her lip as her gaze fastened on the outline of his knob. “Are you pierced?”
Yes. Not that he had a chance to say so before she squealed, flushed crimson, and clamped a hand across her mouth. What she didn’t do was avert her gaze.
“I’ve a Prince Albert piercing.”
“Through the tip?”
“Yes. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes. No! I mean, no. Definitely not. That would be… We only just met! And you’re holding me hostage.”
“You kidnapped me,” he reminded her. Although, yeah, the tables had somewhat turned.
“Doesn’t it get in the way of…”
“Fucking?” he pre-empted her question. “Nope.”
“Shit! I really want to see it, but don’t… Don’t show me. Too weird. Way too forward. I’ll just get up now, and move over there, and you can tell me what happens next.”
She rolled onto her feet. Unfortunately, Bertha performed another lurch, thus tipping Jodi right back onto his lap. He winced as her hand landed square on his cock.
“Fuck!”
“Not sure it’s a good time,” he quipped, his eyes watering a little.
Bertha’s back end swivelled a few degrees, causing Jodi’s eyes to widen. “I thought you said she was too heavy to go anywhere.”
“Figured so.” That might have been a miscalculation. They were definitely moving. Not at any speed, but the river current certainly had a grip on Bertha’s undercarriage.
“We may have to abandon ship,” he admitted.
