Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Josie
King hasn’t drawn a breath in over thirty seconds. I’ve been counting ever since I sat on his face. I’d ask him if he regrets giving me a turn to chase him down, but he was raised not to talk with his mouth full.
Then again, I think he’s right where he wants to be.
My hands land on my thighs, and I pinch the skin in an iron grip as my fingers curl into fists. It’s involuntary. He does this to me almost every time he makes me come. I lose control of my body as pulses of warmth push through my muscles. My pussy keeps time, squeezing on nothing.
When I regain the cockpit, I briefly consider seeing how long I can smother him before he taps out. But who am I kidding? If I never let him draw another breath, he’d die a happy man.
I think I might miss him, though, so I rise off his face and run my hand through his hair as he pants against my pussy. I’m close to panting myself. Having all these orgasms is hard work, let me fucking tell you.
My legs feel like wet sand, so I roll off him and onto my back beside him.
We both throw an arm over our heads as we try to catch our breath.
When we finally stop sounding like a couple of freight trains, I turn to him and ask the question that’s been burning in my brain since I subdued him far easier than he subdued me.
“You let me catch you, didn’t you?”
“How could you tell?”
“I mean, probably the fact that I caught you at all. But, either way, I really enjoyed the role reversal.”
“Did you want to pursue me again this time?” He runs his finger down my side, but I don’t respond.
I can’t.
My gut has my throat and my asshole in a simultaneous grip as one hell of a stomach cramp burbles through my insides.
I’m really starting to question eating one of those sketchy bright-red hot dogs Chef Maurice bought at the even sketchier grocery store. My stomach sends off another warning flare, and I’ve got about twenty minutes before I involuntarily find out if King is into poo play.
“Oh, wow.” I tuck into myself a bit more and pray the cramp doesn’t move into fart territory.
King shuffles around in front of me, likely moving away so that he isn’t in the splash zone should things go horribly, horribly wrong.
When the cramp recedes and I can unfurl my intestines from around my spine, I turn and see him holding my clothes toward me.
He’s already pulled on his shirt and gotten one leg into his shorts.
“Let’s take five.” He motions me closer and starts positioning my shirt to help me into it. “I shouldn’t have let you eat those questionable meat logs last night.”
I stand and step into him, grateful for the help.
He eases the tank top over my breasts, not lingering at all.
It’s a comfort to know I’m not only something sexual to him.
It’s a comfort to know that when it counts, he’s still here, helping me hobble to the nearest toilet so that I don’t shit my pants.
“I’ll get you up to the restrooms at the trailhead.
Then we can pop back to the RV if you need to take a proper powder before resuming our game of tag.
Of course, if you need to call it quits for the night, we can do that as well.
You can decide once you’ve”—he wiggles his fingers at me—“released some pressure from the kettle.”
I try not to sing the little teapot song as he helps me into my shorts. Another cramp barrels through my stomach when I put my foot into the first leg hole. It starts as a mild discomfort and works its way to a fatal knife wound by the time I step into the second leg hole. I freeze, unable to move.
“Just brace yourself against me. I’ll hold you steady until it passes, my beauty.”
“Not sure how you can call me that when I’m literally about to shit myself.” I grit my teeth as a cold sweat snags me in a death grip. “If you ghost me after this, I will completely understand. No hard feelings.”
He pulls my hair away from my neck and fans my skin. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about at the canyon.”
“Ghosting me?”
Panic attack has joined the chat. My guts revolt, and now I’m nauseous. If it comes out both ends, is that like a double negative? Do they cancel each other out? Can we pretend tonight never happened?
“No, not that. The opposite of that.” He sighs and drops my hair to one side of my neck. “Now really isn’t the best time for this. Perhaps we could continue this discussion once you’re feeling well?”
The cramp finally releases, and I feel like I’m playing Russian roulette with my asshole at this point. Any second now and the bullet will fire from the chamber. We cannot undo what will be done.
King kneels in front of me. “Hop on. The trailhead isn’t far from here, and we can move faster this way.”
I climb on and oh, thank fuck for this. There was no way I’d make the trek with these cramps ripping through me every few steps. As he bounds along the trail, I’m able to relax against his back and focus on keeping the next wave of pain at bay.
My nose presses against his shirt, and I breathe in the scent of his skin.
There’s a slight electricity to him—the scent of rain just before a lightning storm.
I take a deep breath, and I actually think I might make it.
When I open my eyes and look over his shoulder, I can even see the rise in the hill that will take us up to the trailhead.
But I’ve spoken too soon.
The buzz of an engine freezes King in place.
He sets me down and motions for me to get into the bushes; the whine draws closer.
We dash toward the side of the trail and tuck ourselves into the shadows.
This is a secret part of the campground no one is supposed to know about.
If anyone finds us here, we could be in deep shit.
Jim and King have a lot of pull, especially within the government, but our National Parks employees are mostly Dudley Dorights who have no chill.
Quinn said she contacted them about using Smoky the Bear for an erotica, and they flat out told her no thank you.
See? No chill.
Meanwhile, I think it was a brilliant idea.
The ATV speeds by, plenty close enough for us to see the two naked bodies and smiling, wrinkled faces.
And we can’t forget that nutsack.
My eyes bulge. “How—”
“We have no idea, and we find it’s best not to look at it for too long.”
Dust flies as Grim spins around. We duck down as they speed by again, heading back the way they came.
“How do they even know about these trails?” I whisper. “I thought you said they were secret.”
He runs his hand down his face. “I might have accidentally given the entrance location over the radio.”
“What is it with old people and technology?”
“Yes, well, this old person just gave you a few of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so you should probably—”
“Oh no.” I grunt as the shitnado watch becomes a shitnado warning.
There is no time left.
Hell is upon me.
“Please go to a different patch of bushes immediately,” I say, and why do I speak like a fucking robot when I’m in panic mode? “I must be alone now.”
“Josie, I can’t go out there. Grim and—”
“I must be alone now!” I scream.
King scrambles out of the bushes and runs to the other side of the trail.
He dives into the thick scrub, right as the engine grumbles over the hill again.
A headlight turns onto our path, and flesh zips past moments later.
If they had turned to their left, they’d have seen a very terrified woman praying she gets her shorts down before the worst happens.
I don’t care if they know we’re out here. They already know we’re out here anyway. What they don’t know is that I’m about to shit in the bushes.
My eyes slam shut as I envision the impending explosion. I can only be thankful that Grim and Rosie are coming my way once more. That tin-can engine is sure to drown out whatever sounds I may make.
They come around the corner, and I let it go. It is not my proudest moment, but I’m beyond relieved when I realize it wasn’t the explosion I envisioned. Instead, it was more like the cork popping out and letting off pressure. As he said, I just needed to let off some steam.
“It was only gas,” I say across the road as the ATV taillights disappear up the hill.
King starts my way, but he’ll live to regret it if he gets much closer. It might have been gas, but it smells like I’m leaving something behind. Something dead.
“No, stay over there!” I say, flailing my hands at him as I try to stop him from getting much closer. But it’s too late. The buzzing engine is coming back around, and he’s moving even faster toward me.
I squat down and try to blow the stink away, but it’s no use. It lingers like a cloud. A very stinky cloud. So much for having him fall in love with me. The earth can swallow me up now, thanks.
He hurries behind the safety of the branches and leaves, and how unfortunate that he’s so out of breath from running back and forth.
It only takes one good intake of air before he starts to cough.
The gentleman that he is, he first tries to pretend as if he’s merely catching his breath. That doesn’t last.
“We may need to call a doctor for you,” he says, followed by a discreet gag. “Or perhaps a coroner. I believe you’ve already died.”
I bury my face in my hands. This can’t get any worse.
The engine buzzes over the hill again, and we hunker down for what has to be the final time. I can’t take much more of this, and those hot dogs aren’t finished with me yet. This was a false alarm, the lull before the actual storm. Shitnado is coming, and I’ll be better prepared this time.
But as I’m planning to make a break for the restrooms just over that hill, the ATV takes the curve a bit too fast, and the vehicle rocks onto two wheels. Grim manages to set it back down, albeit violently, but the rear end fishtails and sends Rosie flying off the back.
Grim brings the four-wheeler to a stop and snatches off his helmet—the only piece of clothing they wore.
“Josie, I need to help them. Can you make it to the bathroom on your own?”
“Yes, go.”
“Head for the RV when you’ve finished. I still have something I need to talk to you about.”
I grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “Just go. He can’t help her if she’s hurt, remember?”
He runs one way, and I bolt the other. I wish I could help them too, but no one else needs to be exposed to the evil lurking inside me. If I want to cast out these demons, I need to make it to the restrooms.
With gritted teeth and a constant clench of my ass cheeks, I burst into the bathroom.
What happens next isn’t pretty, dignified, or anything I ever wish to relive.
For my mental health, my consciousness dissociates halfway through.
Whether to save me from the pain or the horrendous odor, I do not know, nor do I care.
I just know that when it finally stops, I am simply glad to be alive.
I wash my hands five times, then slink out of the restroom. For something that literally everyone does, taking a shit is the most embarrassing human experience I’ve ever had. I hurry away from the scene of the crime before anyone can witness my presence. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them King did it.