Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Holly
“Oh, hello, I’m your aide, Tina,” the woman says as she walks into Rebel’s room and turns to talk to him. “Today’s your day to get a shower. We give them three times a week,” Tina announces as she sets a stack of fresh towels on the counter that’s against the wall.
Thankfully, Rebel has a private room here, but it’s not very big so every square inch is utilized with medical equipment, chairs, and a cabinet, as well as a bedside commode, a wheelchair for when they take him to physical and occupational therapy, and a wardrobe of sorts.
Not that he’s really wearing clothes, per se. Both legs are now in casts; the left leg cast stops in the middle of his thigh, while the right one stops below the knee and is actually more of a walking boot style since he can bend his knee on that leg. Granted, both of them are covered in signatures, some of the words and illustrations are cruder than others thanks to his brothers, but before those heathens got a hold of a sharpie, Mina and Ruby drew some pictures. So, my badass biker has hearts and flowers on one leg, and not-safe-for-work designs on the other. He keeps that one covered whenever Pappy and Grammy bring the girls to visit though since they’re way too young to discuss what a penis is.
“I’ll be helping him with that,” I advise Tina, giving her a scowl. I brought his shower wash, shampoo and conditioner, and other personal hygiene products from home already, along with a bathing suit for myself so I could step into the stall and help him in the shower.
God bless the man; he hasn’t had one since the morning of the accident. I mean, the hospital used wipes and what-not to freshen him up, but his hair still has dried blood in it, and anywhere they used the cleansing clothes has an orange tinge. Now that his road rash has scabbed over, his doctor has given him the nod to get a shower.
“Oh, that goes against our policies,” Tina replies. Since I can see the mercurial gleam in her eyes as she gazes at my man, I know I need to shut that shit down now before she gets the notion that he lives by the idealisms you find in a biker book. My man is not a cheater and if he did have a side piece, it’d be a Glock not a woman.
“We’ll see about that, Tina, was it?” I ask, pulling out my phone. I pull up the doctor’s personal number, which I insisted on getting ‘just in case’ and hit the button, then put it on speaker. When he answers, I say, “Hello, Dr. Brown, this is Holly, how are you today?”
“I’m doing well, how is Rebel?” he questions. “I know he was moved to rehab today, is he settling in okay? I’ll be out tomorrow to see him after I do rounds at the hospital.”
“He’s doing well, but I have a question for you,” I tell him. “An aide is here wanting to give him a shower and she’s told me I’m not allowed to assist him with this task.”
A low chuckle comes through the phone’s speaker before he says, “I’m not sure which aide is there, but I’ll be sure to put in his orders that you will handle those tasks for him. Is she listening now?”
I glance at Tina to see she’s glaring at me and smirk. “She is, sir. Anything in particular I need to watch out for?”
“They’ll wrap both casts and the PICC line to prevent any water getting in, but just remember, the casts are waterproof if you do manage to get them slightly wet. We don’t recommend it, because it’ll irritate the skin, but if it happens it’s not a big deal. The PICC line, however, needs to stay as dry as possible. Just be careful washing around the scabbed areas. We want them to fall off naturally to prevent any secondary infections from showing up. Outside of that, I’m sure he’s going to enjoy feeling clean after all these weeks.”
“Absofuckinlutely,” Rebel growls out. “And just for the record, I don’t want anyone besides Holly touching me so intimately.”
“Noted, Rebel,” Dr. Brown says, chuckling. “Now, which aide is there with you?”
“Tina, Dr. Brown,” I reply.
“Tina, please wrap Rebel’s casts thoroughly, then let Holly bathe him. That’ll allow you to make sure his bedding is changed while his fiancée helps him get the grime off his body.”
“But he just got here this morning,” Tina says, protesting. “His bedding is clean.”
“Would you want to get back into a bed once you were freshly clean that you’d been in all day after not showering for two weeks?” Dr. Brown asks. “Change his bedding.”
“Yes, sir,” Tina grumbles, stomping out of the room.
I can’t help the giggle that escapes but say, “Thanks, Dr. Brown.”
“Anything else?” he questions.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Enjoy your shower, Rebel.”
“Babe, I need to take a piss,” Rebel says once we’re in the bathroom. His legs have been wrapped in some plastic stuff, as has his PICC line. While he has a bedside commode as well as a plastic urinal, I know he just wants to feel normal in some way. Since the bathroom has bars around the toilet itself, I push the wheelchair so he’s facing it, lock the brakes and make sure he’s able to hold himself up.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I warn. “I’ll get ready and be right back in, okay?”
He grins at me and despite the dark bruises under his eyes, the scabbed areas from the road rash that cover his arms, shoulders, chest and back, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
“I’ll behave, sweetheart. Don’t have the energy to do too much else,” he teases.
“More’s the pity,” I reply, winking at him before I leave the bathroom to slip into my bathing suit. Grabbing his personal hygiene bag, I knock and ask, “You good for me to come back in?” When I hear the toilet flush, I step inside to see him sitting back in the wheelchair naked.
Quickly setting the things he’s going to need in the shower on the ledges that are built in, I then release the wheelchair brakes and turn him around so he’s facing the shower itself. It’s actually quite ingenious and made to hold a plastic wheelchair if needed, but right now, it has a sturdy shower bench along with a wedge kind of thing to prop up his left leg since it doesn’t currently bend.
“Alright, how are we gonna do this?” I ask.
“Put me sideways, then we’ll drop the arm of the wheelchair on this side. I can use my upper body strength to slide over, just stay behind me and help,” he says.
It takes a few minutes, but finally, we have him on the shower bench and the water is warming up while I peruse his body. Tears well up in my eyes but I push them back as I gaze at each and every inch of his bruised and battered skin. That’s part of the reason why Pappy was covered in blood, because of all the areas of road rash, plus the compound fractures. I briefly wonder just how fast that damn car was going to cause so much physical damage to Rebel, because his riding leathers were in tatters. Some of that was because the paramedics had to cut them to get to the injured areas. When I realize that if he had been wearing just a T-shirt and jeans when he was hit the outcome would’ve been far different, I can’t help the guttural moan that escapes.
“Babe, you okay?” he questions, glancing back at me. When he sees my face, he reaches out a hand and grasps mine. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna be just fine, I promise.”
“I… I know,” I manage to stammer. “It just dawned on me that if you hadn’t had your leathers on, you probably would’ve been dead.” Or skinned like a rabbit, but I keep that thought to myself.
“But I’m not. We’re going to find out who the fuck did this and make them pay, I promise,” he replies, squeezing my hand. “Now, will you please wash my hair? I swear I can’t handle it any longer. It feels like a mop of grease.”
“Definitely,” I say, grinning. I take the hand-held shower and test the water to make sure the temperature isn’t too hot nor too cold then tell him, “Lean your head back and close your eyes.”
Right now, I’m grateful that we’ve taken a few showers together. Not many, because my shower at home isn’t exactly that big, but we managed to make it work. He groans as the warm water flows down his back while I use my hand to make sure his hair is wet. Once I’m satisfied, I put the shower head where he can reach it and grab the shampoo. As I work it into a lather and finger it through his strands, he moans, which sends shivers of desire coursing through me.
Now’s not the time, Holl , I remind myself. “Feel good, handsome?”
“You have no idea, babe,” he replies. “I’ve missed having your hands on me like this.”
So have I , I mentally say since I don’t want him to feel guilty about something he wasn’t responsible for whatsoever.
“Well, enjoy, Rebel, because I think I’m gonna wash it twice, toss some conditioner on the ends then wash around the scabbed areas,” I say out loud. “I’ll let you do the front, of course.”
“You don’t wanna touch my dick?” he teases. I glance down to see said appendage has woken up and is standing stiff against his abdomen, every thick, girthy inch and bite back a moan of my own.
“I don’t think your aide, or your doctor would appreciate me giving you that kind of shower,” I primly reply.
“Spoilsport,” he says, mock pouting.
“There’s nothing that says you can’t do it, though.”
It would at least give me something for my spank bank, right? Naughty girl , my brain whispers.
“This is true,” he muses, smirking at me. The rat knows what I’m thinking, I just know he does, especially when he grabs the washcloth, squirts some of his body wash on it, then slowly starts washing his chest, moving downward.
And… now I’m wet in a way that has nothing to do with this damn shower! Ugh. I shake my head and focus on what I was doing, grabbing the shower head and rinsing out the suds before I lather up more shampoo and do it again.
Meanwhile, Rebel is giving me a show, slowly stroking his dick and I wonder if I can orgasm without him even touching me. It’s something to ponder, especially as my nipples grow taut and my breasts get heavy. “Rebel,” I moan, my voice low.
“Come closer, sweetheart,” he whispers.
I move to the side and his hand slips up my thigh until he’s able to access my pussy. “I think someone’s missed me,” he says, his voice still low and husky even though I don’t think anyone could hear us over the pounding water.
As I grip his shoulders to hold on, he starts his sensuous assault on me while he continues to stroke himself. I watch as precum oozes from the tip, my mouth salivating as I remember his zingy taste. “God, handsome, I’m so close already.”
“Same, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice sinking to a deeper octave.
I don’t know if it’s because we’ve been denied this for several weeks now, or not, but when I feel my pussy pulsing, I lean down and nip his ear lobe while calling out his name in a whisper-shout just as cum spurts across his abdomen and chest and he hisses out my name.
“God, I needed that,” I manage to finally say once I can stand upright again.
“Same, Holly, same,” he pants out. He proceeds to clean his chest and privates while I start the arduous task of washing around all the road rash.
Once I’ve rinsed his hair for the last time, getting out the conditioner, I say, “Your hair’s gotten long, but I kind of like it.”
“Yeah, it has,” he agrees with a bob of his head. “They have a salon here, believe it or not so I might take advantage of that service and get it cut.”
My eyes widen at his words. “Can you wait? I mean, until you’re home, because I’m liking it right now. But if it bothers you too much, by all means, cut it.”
He’s had so many decisions taken away from him, I don’t want to add to that list. “I’ll leave it for now, Holly. Kinda wondering how it’ll feel when I’m eating out your pussy and you’re pulling on it to be honest.”
“Rebel!” I exclaim. “You’re killing me here.”
He snickers as I rinse all the soap from his body. “Trust me, this has been hell for me too.”