Continuing the further adventures of the irrepressible Kimmie and Ryan the stud.

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Chapter 8: On the Road.

I'm spooning. Jay never spooned. But Ryan's curled around me like I'm his teddy bear. He smells good and I remember our drunken shower the night before, after our workout… God, we fucked like we were getting paid for it. He's definitely earned his sleep.

He's whispering something I can't make it out. I wonder whose name is on his lips while he dreams. I wonder who taught him that trick with his tongue.

Oh God, am I falling for Ryan?

Nah. With his temper and mine, we'd last all of twenty minutes before hating each other's guts. Friends is better.

"The piñata's on fire…" he says clearly. His lips are beside my ear and I can't stop myself from laughing. He's so damn cute.

"The mustard's burning, too…" he murmurs.

I roll over and he relaxes onto his back as I sit up. I trace my finger across his chest and lower my lips to kiss the faded scar on his collarbone.

His hand rises to my hair and I catch his groggy eyes examining me.

"Morning, stud…"

"Mmm…," he murmurs as I kiss him. "Yeah."

We need to get this road trip rolling again. I straddle him, keeping him on his back. He's helpless with me. He will not resist. Besides, even when he tries, his body betrays him. Every. Single. Time.

"Too early," he says, reaching up to kiss me. But his lips are hot on mine, and his mouth is hungry.

"Never too early…" And, once again, he rises to the occasion.

Talk about morning glory, stud.

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God, I'm more tired now than I was before we started this trip. I swear, if we go on like this, I'm not going to survive five days.

But I am having a lot of fun.

Kimmie's finally sated and she's checking us out of the motel.

I didn't want to face the manager. He'd come by four times the night before to tell us to keep it down. And, by us, I really mean Kimmie.

Oh shit. My phone. I spot it under my bag and realize that I haven't spoken to the Cohens since I left.

Sandy told me to call with regular updates.

I'm fucked.

I flip it on and before it finishes lighting up all the way, it starts to buzz.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell are you? Are you okay?"

"Kirsten…"

"You were supposed to answer your phone, it was one of the conditions for your trip…"

"I'm sorry, it was in my bag and…"

"Where are you?"

"Um…I got tired so I stopped at a hotel for the night."

"Well…at least you weren't driving tired, that's good. And you're safe?"

"Yes."

"No fights?"

"Nope." I'm only burning in hell a little for this.

"No drinking?"

"No." A little hotter.

"Sex?"

"Come on, Kirsten…" Don't make me lie any more.

"Ryan…"

"I'm alone in a car, I'm not getting into trouble." And I'm really on fire now. I see Kimmie walking toward me and she's definitely trouble.

"Sandy wants to yell, hold on…"

Kimmie pushes me against the door of the Rover and kisses me before I can stop her.

Sandy's talking in my ear and I pray that he doesn't hear her soft murmurs in my mouth.

"Ryan, I can't believe you'd leave your phone off, are you avoiding us, are you upset about something…"

"No…" I push Kimmie away and she pouts, crossing her arms. "Sandy, I forgot, I swear…"

"How could you forget? Are you alone?"

"Yes, Sandy. I was just driving and keeping my head clear. I got tired and stopped for the night."

Sandy sighs. Kimmie slips her hands into the back pockets of my jeans and pulls me back, kissing my neck.

"I'm not sure we should have let you go…something's obviously bothering you…"

"Sandy, I'm fine, I swear…"

"You swear."

"Yes." Kimmie's pressed against me now, her lips and tongue trailing down my shoulder. I make every effort to control my breathing, but my heart rate is rising.

"Okay. We're calling you in a couple of hours. Answer. And if you can't pick up for one reason or another, pull over at the next exit and call back. "

"Okay, Sandy. I promise."

"You're such a bad liar…" Kimmie purrs when I close the phone.

"Well, you're not exactly helping the situation with your hot little mouth…" I don't think I meant to say that out loud but Kimmie answers me with a deep kiss.

The phone buzzes in my hand and she groans, pulling away.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Dude. Where the hell have you been?"

"Driving."

Kimmie holds out her hand. I stare at her.

"You have to be bored out of your mind, I can't believe you didn't let me come."

Kimmie imitates driving. I shake my head. She's not driving.

"Sorry, man. Next time."

She points at her nonexistent watch. She's right. We're behind schedule.

"Mom and Dad are pissed."

"I heard."

"So. I have lots to tell you…"

I give Kimmie the keys. I can tell that Seth's going to be a while.

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"Goodbye, Seth. I mean it, I have to drive…" Ryan is saying. His hand is clenched tightly around the phone and if I didn't know better, I'd think he was frightened.

I swerve around the slow-moving car in front of me.

This thing is fun as hell to drive.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ryan asks as the phone falls from his hand into his lap as I maneuver around the next car.

"I'm getting us back on schedule…"

"You drive like a maniac…" He says. He's breathing fast, like he's hyperventilating.

"No, I don't, you're just pissed you're not in control…"

"Kimmie, you're driving too fucking fast…"

"I have it all under control." I slow down just because he's really looking like he's freaking out. I set the cruise control on eighty but he's still not relaxed.

"Kimmie…"

"Relax, stud…I'm on top of it," I put my hand on his thigh and glance over at him.

"Both hands on the wheel," he says, his eyes locked on the road.

Who knew he was such a grandma when it came to driving? I slow down a little more and put my hand back on the wheel.

"It's just…this isn't my car, it's the Cohens'…do you have any idea how much this thing costs?" he says after a long silence.

"So? They have loads of money from what I hear…"

"Yeah, but I don't. I'd like to bring the Rover back to them in one piece. You're lucky we aren't on a bus to Portland, you know," he says. He's got the sparkle back in his eyes again.

"Hey, tell you what, why don't you roll up a little joint to keep you relaxed? After all the grief you got on the phone, you deserve a break."

He raises an eyebrow at me.

"No, I'll stay straight, okay? So your precious car doesn't get scratched, grandma."

He smiles. "Actually, it might slow you down some. Kidding," he adds when he sees me grin.

Bastard.

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan is definitely more laid-back. I feel I can speed up again.

"Jesus, Kimmie, you have no patience on the road," he says, wincing, after a close overtake.

"Yeah, stud. I've been told before, I drive like I fuck." Ouch, that was one of rat bastard's phrases. Still, he was right.

Ryan laughs. "Well at least you're quieter. I think the next hotel we sleep in I'll request a soundproofed room."

"Don't you like knowing that you make me sound like that?" I ask, innocently, my hand wandering back onto his knee.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Although it did get us busted by Dr Kim," he grins, inhaling deeply on the joint.

"Unh-uh? And how much actual damage did that do to your reputation at school?"

He smirks. "Actually, I did get propositioned a few times. By some unexpected people."

"Just call it good advertising, stud," I say.

And I glance up at the road ahead and see something dart out into my lane. Aww, furry animal! I swerve to avoid it; I don't want to kill it!

"Kimmie…" Ryan gasps.

Shit!

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"Hey, are you okay?" Kimmie sounds frantic.

Jesus. I can't believe what just happened. I hand the steering wheel to Kimmie for half an hour and she fucking crashes the car.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah, I'm, okay. You?"

She nods. "Did you see it?"

"Did I see what?"

"That… animal. Whatever it was. A raccoon or something." She's clearly freaked out.

"Um, no." What the hell is she on about? I knew it was dumb to spark up on the road.

"No, really, stud, there was that streak of brown across the road and… You don't believe me do you?"

Well, I believe she thinks she saw something. And maybe if she'd been driving anywhere near the speed limit, she would've stayed on the road.

"Let's check the damage." I mutter, getting out of the car.

We're not far off the road, in a patch of grass and scrub, with some trees that we have managed to avoid. The left front wheel looks like it might have a blown tire. There were a couple of sharp rocks on the patch we just drove over.

I reach into the car and pop the hood and go and inspect the engine. At first glance, it doesn't look like anything really bad happened but I need to check the car over. Let's hope the axle held this time….

"Don't the Cohens have AAA?" Kimmie asks.

I shake my head. "I'm not explaining this to the Cohens if I can fix it myself."

"Hey, stud, I'm sorry." She sounds contrite.

"I should've known better than to let you drive." And I should. But I did it anyway.

Maybe it's the weed, but I don't feel as pissed at her as I probably ought to be. Or it's the fact that we spent half the night having the most insane sex. And that we had a quickie an hour ago. And that despite being tired and aching, I could do it again…

Fuck, this grass is seriously good.

Or maybe it's just her.

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It looks like we're going to be here for a while. Ryan is scowling at the engine, prodding the front wheel, and generally sucking his teeth in classic mechanic mode.

I'd offer to help, but he's already indicated he wants me out of his hair. I don't think he trusts me with the car.

So I get a beach towel and a bikini out of my bag, and get ready for a little tanning.

He gives me a funny look when I spread my towel in the grass by the side of the car, but I guess he must like my new bikini because he keeps his mouth shut and just gives me the once-over. Or, to be more accurate, a twice-over.

I spread some factor 15 on and lie on my towel under the sun.

Now and then I look over at Ryan. He's stripped down to his jeans and he's getting sweaty as he pokes around the engine with his tools. Mmmm. I like it when he's all manly. And when I can see the droplets of sweat snaking down his muscular back. And his pecs. God, that boy has got a body to die for.

He starts jacking up the car to start changing the wheel.

"Hey, stud, can I help with that?"

He grins and shakes his head. "You just stay there and look pretty." And he gives me another lingering look. That new bikini was worth every cent.

I wonder if stud boy would consider stripping it off me anytime soon…

I'm lying on my back and half-dozing when suddenly I hear a screech of brakes. I open one eye to see a pick-up truck pulled over just by the side of the road. A couple of guys in trucker hats are making eyes at me through the windshield.

"Hey there lady, you need a hand with anything?" one of them shouts out of the window. The guy is practically drooling onto the tarmac.

I shake my head. "No thanks, guys, we've got it covered." We, asshole, get the hint?

"C'mon, baby, I'm sure we could find some way to help you out? Need a ride anywhere? Hot chick like you shouldn't be out there all on her own…" The guy is now frankly leering, and his friend says something to him that I can't hear, but I recognize the international hand gesture for tits. I'm getting a little antsy.

"You guys all right there?" Oh, good timing, stud.

Ryan appears round the other side of the Range Rover, casually wielding a lug wrench. And he might be a little short, but his muscles look damn impressive, especially with a smudge of grease. He is scowling again, and that look so works for him.

"Uh, no, pal. Just wondered if the lady needed help," the driver says. And he revs up the engine and pulls out into the road at speed. What a pair of assholes.

"Thanks for coming to the rescue, stud," I say only half in jest.

"Yeah, well maybe you should move away from the road," he says, "Your bikini doesn't cover up much."

"It's not exactly meant to shelter me from the elements."

"C'mon," he says, and he holds out his hand. He pulls me up and I steal a quick kiss and a grope of his jeans-clad ass before relocating my towel nearer the car.

Ten minutes later, while I'm tanning my back, another screech of brakes. And this time, it can't be anything to do with me because I can't even see the car. But I can hear it all right. It's giggling.

"Hey handsome! Need a ride anywhere?" More giggles, and a wolf-whistle. I can just see Ryan from where I'm lying, and he's looking a little self-conscious. Tanned and ripped and buff as hell – but self-conscious. I raise my head and as expected, it's a carful of girls. Sorority girls, by the look of them.

"Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"You wouldn't want to check our bodywork over, would you, stud," one of the girls says, and they all collapse in giggles again.

Ryan grins and shoots a look over at me. I raise an eyebrow. Is it time for me to rescue him?

I get up and stretch and I can immediately see a look of disappointment on a couple of their faces. Aww, sorry gals, he's taken. I walk over to Ryan and slide a hand into his back pocket and pinch his ass. His pants are riding low and hugging him in the nicest way. He doesn't flinch but I can see him trying not to laugh.

"We're cool, girls. Thanks for being such good Samaritans." I say, and I know I sound smug.

Well, who wouldn't?

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Hell, I can't get that last lug nut off. And I keep losing my focus. Because Kimmie in that minuscule excuse for a bikini is just unbelievably hot. And I'm doing my best, but I can't get my brain to cooperate.

So, one more go.

Fuck!

I've been standing on the wrench to get that nut loosened and it's finally given way. The nut goes flying, bounces off the side of the road, and rolls into the highway. A massive truck thunders past. When it's gone, I can't see the nut anymore.

I groan.

"What's up?" Kimmie asks, propping herself on her elbows.

"We're fucked. I lost a lug nut."

"Is that bad?"

Girls. "Yeah. We need one. We're going to have to get to the nearest garage or something. Maybe you should go stand in the road for a couple of seconds." Because I can't imagine many guys would drive past her, especially when she's looking like that.

"Funny, stud. Why don't we put you out there and wait for the girls to stop. Or the guys, mind you – you're very butch."

I don't answer. I'm still looking at her and damn, even though I've seen more action in the past twenty-four hours than in the past year, I can't stop staring at her curves. And I couldn't care less about the damn lug nut right now. I want to take this bikini off her. This minute.

And she knows it, because she's got her eyes half-closed, she's sucking her bottom lip and wriggling her damn ass at me.

I stride over to her.

"Get up."

She blinks and grins at me. "Oooh, forceful."

I lean down and grab her hand. She stands up and presses herself against me and I can feel my body respond to her. I'm definitely not going anywhere until I've dealt with that.

"So where are you taking me?" she says playfully.

"You see that tree, and that clump of bushes?"

She nods.

"I'm taking you there. And then I'm going to remove your bikini, possibly with my teeth. And fuck you until you scare all the wildlife in the neighborhood away for good." And I start walking, dragging her behind me.

She snags her beach towel as she follows willingly.

Clever girl.

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Jesus, the stud has turned all primeval on me. And it's so damn hot. We get under the tree, barely sheltered from the road, and he grabs my towel and throws it on the grass, drops to his knees, pulling me down, and starts kissing me and running his hands all over my body.

Dear God, he is so fucking sexy in his half-dressed, tool-wielding macho glory. If I'd known I would've gone to Chino for sex on his construction site all summer long.

He's sweaty, he's got grease smeared on his body and his hands are kind of dirty and I cannot get enough of him. And his kisses, God, can he kiss.

His mouth works its way down from my neck, to my breasts and my belly. At this rate, he is going to be removing my bikini with his teeth. In about five seconds. I rake my nails down his back and make him hiss and then I slide my hands into the back of his jeans.

Just as I'm working my way to the front, his cell rings in his pocket. He extracts it.

"Fuck. The Cohens," he says, looking at the phone. "I've got to take this call, Kimmie."

"Okay, stud," I say. "Go right ahead."

But I ain't stopping.

He flips the phone open and attempts to smile while my fingers slide around his hips, heading for their target. He shakes his head at me.

"Hey, Kirsten," he says.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. I've just stopped… for, er, coffee," he says slowly. He's trying to keep his voice steady.

Meanwhile, I've unbuttoned his pants and I decide I want another taste.

I can hear his breath hitch when I bend my head down.

"No. Not at all," he's saying into the phone, and his voice is definitely starting to waver.

"Hang on a sec, I've got to pay," he croaks. And he hits mute on the phone.

"Will you cut it out?" he whispers furiously.

I ignore him. He tries to push me away, but it's half-hearted. Oh, stud, I know how to get to you.

"Yeah, well I hope to be in Portland by tonight. Yeah. I'll call you. 'Bye." And it's just as well he ends the conversation then because he is beginning to sound very strangulated. You're not the only one with tongue tricks, stud.

"Jesus, Kimmie, you're going to get me busted," he groans, but he stops complaining and lets me do what I want to him. Until he pulls my head back up to kiss me, and then flips me onto my back in a slick move and stretches his body over mine. I am so ready for him.

And my bikini seems to have melted away – oh, stud, you can get me naked without me even noticing – and, oh! I still feel a little sore from last night but it feels so good I don't care.

He's right about the wildlife, I guess. I may have gotten a little carried away.

After, when we're lying there on the towel in a pool of sweat, cuddling, he raises his head from the crook of my neck.

"We still have to get a lug nut, you know?"

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"Hitchhiking? You want to hitchhike?" she says, and I shrug. I take a last toke on our post-coital joint and crush it under my boot.

"It's not like we have many options, unless you want to walk until you collapse in the midday sun."

"Okay, but stud, hitchhiking is just so… dangerous." She looks alarmed.

"Kimmie, I'm not going to send you out there on your own. We'll be cool. If we can get a lift."

She still looks a little uneasy but then she relents. She'll need to cover up though. Although, come to think of it, I've never seen her wear anything that would actually qualify as covering up.

Hitching turns out to be a pain. There have been too many films featuring homicidal hitchhiking couples on the run. Especially in California. No one stops.

So Kimmie moves to the forefront and I drop back a little. Because – well, she's the kind of hitchhiker truckers get wet dreams about. And they don't know the half of it.

And sure enough, a truck pulls over.

The guy seems cool – even when it became obvious I was coming along for the ride, he didn't say anything except hop in.

It's cool in his cab, and after the glare of the sun, oddly restful, and I find myself almost nodding off while Kimmie chats with him.

Until she raises her voice and I'm pulled back into reality. Shit.

"Hey, Frank," she says, "keep your hands on the wheel, okay?"

Frank (if that's his fucking name) laughs an unpleasant laugh. "Your boyfriend's asleep, doll. What the eye don't see..."

"My boyfriend isn't the issue, pal," she spits out. I tense my muscles, ready to intervene. Except that Frank is at the wheel of a massive Mack truck and I'm not sure whether wrestling with a truck driver doing seventy on the interstate is a good idea.

"Hey, sweetheart, you think I gave you a ride for nothing," he whines, and I'm beginning to think Kimmie was right. I'm still hoping she'll talk him down, but it's not sounding good. Fuck, all this sex and grass is tuning out my radar. I should've known that guy was a creep.

"Isn't it what hitchhiking is about?" Kimmie says sweetly and if I didn't know better I'd swear she's just being innocent.

"You think you can come into my cab in a fucking miniskirt and flash all that leg and not let me cop a feel?" he snickers, and Kimmie squirms next to me. I open my eyes, and the guy's got his damn hand on her knee, and trying to slide it up her thigh.

"Hey, pal, cut it," I say.

"Go back to sleep, you sumbitch," says Frank, not taking his hand off her knee.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, man?" I say. "Get your fucking paw off her knee." And I can feel my fist itching, again. This is getting stupid.

Kimmie steals me a look, and I can see she's not all that cool about this. She actually looks scared. I don't like that.

"Pull over," I say. "You wanna be a jerk, fine. Just drop us off."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he says, and I start feeling creeped out. This guy is weird, and not in a good way.

So I start looking around the dashboard for anything useful. And among the porn magazines and cigarettes, I find what I'm looking for.

The asshole left his wallet there. I pick it up and open it. He's got a fair amount of cash, too.

"Hey!" he says, and all of a sudden he's not sounding as confident.

I crank open the window, wallet in hand.

"Frank, let me make it easy for you. Either you drop us off or you can kiss your cash goodbye." And the fucker finally takes his hand off Kimmie.

He pulls over in the next available lay-by. The minute the brakes are on, Kimmie turns to him like a fury and slaps his crotch. Hard. I wince in involuntary sympathy. Fuck, that must've hurt.

The guy blanches but doesn't say anything except "Nnnghh!".

"You asshole!" she screams at him. "If you hadn't been at the wheel of the goddamn truck I would've killed you!" And she slaps his face, too, for good measure, before getting out of the cab.

Go Kimmie!

Frank drives off pretty quickly after that.

I pull Kimmie into my arms for a hug, because she's still looking shaken. She grabs me and holds on to me really tight, her head buried into my shoulder.

"Thanks, stud, for the quick thinking there."

"Hey, I'm sorry about the hitchhiking. You were right. It's stupid."

She shrugs, still in my arms. "No. I guess you were right. You were there to defend me." I can hear the smile in her voice. She always bounces back quickly, she does.

Looks like we're in luck after all because I can see a gas station signposted ahead, within a mile or so. We can always get a cab or something back.

And then – next stop – Portland.