Kayla Comes Home Ch. 03

The din of the water cascading from the showerhead drowned out the sound of Kayla opening the bathroom door softly and closing it behind her as she stepped into the steamy, bathroom. She tip toed to the shower and pulled back the shower curtain stepping inside. With the warmth of the water flowing over her, she wrapped her arms around his soapy, torso. Her hands, roaming over the soap slick, flesh of his chest.

"Your insatiable you know that," he chuckled as he continued to lather his sinewy, torso.

"What can I say...you bring out the animal in me," she retorted her palm's maundering lazily down over the corrugated, sinews of his stomach. Her sojourning, touch descending lower until her searching, finger's curled around the flaccid, length of his shaft.

"Are you purposely trying to kill me," he chortled?

"Aw...now that would defeat my purpose now wouldn't it," she murmured. Her soap, slick finger's wandering lazily up and down his length. Leisurely, masturbating he, feeling him stiffen slightly in her fist.

With an animal like groan he surrendered to her lascivious, advances. Despite their earlier sexual gymnastics he felt his member stiffen with renewed vigor under her surprisingly adroit ministrations.

Turning around her grasped her arms raising them over her head and pinned her against the wall of the shower, His lip's descending and finding her lips. His tongue, sliding between the ripe plums of her lip's to plunder her mouth passionately.

She melded against his muscular, torso. Her arm's wrapping around his neck as his grip on her arm's relaxed. Her tongue plundering his mouth ardently.

His hands, slid down her soap slick, torso maundering between their melded, torsos and kneading and fondling the perfection of her breasts. Rolling the stiff, apices of her nipples between his soap, slick fingers.

He scooped her up in his arms. Her legs, locking around his waist, the very tip of him nuzzling the warmth of her velvety, cleft, Slowly, inch by indescribable inch she lowered herself down feeling the flared, plum shaped head separate the downy, folds of her labia. She lowered herself down another inch and felt the large, head at the vestibule of her slick, furrow.

He clutched her firm, buttock's passionately and supported her as she raised and lowered herself on his stiff, length. The limber, length of his tongue darting repeatedly in and out of her mouth.

His large, calloused palm's cupping them, molding the undersides. Rolling her tightly, beaded nipple's between his fingers. There torso's slamming together bucking and arching and colliding in perfect rhythm.

Sweat dripping from his torso, he moved his lip's lower and suckled her left, nipple deep into his mouth slaking his thirst. Lashing at the rose colored areola and the tightly, beaded nipple's each one the color of pale pink tea roses.

She arched and writhed in torment as his thrusts became harder more insistent in a regular, pulsing cadence. She moved against him met his eager, thrusts and matched them. Her breath in breathless, urgent gasps as each thrust forced the breath from her lungs. She came in great shuddering, clenching spasms. Her velvety, sheath milking the thickness of his shaft until with a long low growl, His body shuddering with release he spewed forth a fountain of semen from his testes.

"Mm...are you positive...you have to go into town today," she panted as she tried to catch her breath.

"Yes I do," he replied, withdrawing from her and stepping out of the shower drying him vigorously and wrapping a towel about his waist. He left the steamy, confines of the bathroom and quickly dressed in a tee shirt and jeans meeting her as she emerged from the bathroom a towel wrapped securely about her torso. "I'll be home in a few hours," he uttered as he walked by.

She returned to her room and dressed quickly in a yellow sundress and tights as she heard the clamber of his beat up, Ford pickup drive away. Grabbing her laptop she pranced down the stairs and to the kitchen making her a pot of coffee.

Perching herself at the kitchen table she opened her laptop and her mind whirling with the vivid memories of their sexual antics attempted to put the feelings into words. The alluring, aroma of the coffee drawing her attention away as she strode to the coffee maker and poured herself a large, mug fill.

Returning to the table she sat down again took a sip of the aromatic, coffee and turned her attention to her writing. The words seeming to fly from her brain to her finger's faster then she could type. As she typed she could almost feel the scintillating touch of Trevor's hands as they caressed her smooth, silken flesh passionately. She squirmed in her seat as she felt the heat of her desire gnawing at her belly again she described their love making in almost vivid detail.

The ardor and dampness between her supple, thighs' were drawing her finger's downward. Her finger's, sojourning beneath the flowing, skirt of the sundress and idly maundering up the nylon clad length of her thigh. Her left hand, straying down to cup the perky swell of her breast through the thin, bodice of the dress, the nipple, was protruding stiffly from the firm, mound.

Her fingers, sojourned higher beneath the skirt. Causing the skirt to bunch up about her waist, her supple, fingertips venturing into the heat of her nylon clad inner thighs, One, insolent digit, tracing the crease of her hair fringed outer fold's through the flimsy, material of her tights.

She slid her fingers beneath the elastic, waistband of her tights and panties. Her supple, digit's brushing the springy, nest of curls adorning her mound as they nimbly, sought out the swollen, kernel of her clit straddling the damp, pink petals of her inner fold's. One solitary, fingertip was slipping between the puffy, hair fringed outer folds and gathering the syrupy nectar drooling from her velvety, sheath.

Her fingers, coated with the slick, syrupy juices flowing from her frothy, depths languidly, circled the swollen, pearl of her clit bathing it with her slick, secretions. Her breathing, coming in quickening pants as her pleasure threatened to reach a turbulent, crescendo.

She could feel the orgasm building within her. Her supple, fingertip circling the now quivering bud of her clit, playing out her orgasm for as long as possible, Her breathing getting ragged now as the waves of pleasure threatened to crest and consume her. Her thigh's beginning to quiver with the first faint stirrings of climax

Her taut, buttocks clenched and unclenched rhythmically as the tidal wave of her imminent orgasm began to break upon her. Her face contorting in ecstasy, her body trembling on the very edge of ecstasy until with a profound shudder she came in great, shuddering spasms, Her taut buttocks, clenching and unclenching as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure cascaded through her.

"Whew...," she panted as she tried to catch her breath after the turbulent, climax. It was almost as if her years of pent up desire had bubbled to the surface since she had met Trevor.

The sound of the doorbell, breaking her from her reverie, quickly smoothing her skirt down over her legs she arose from the kitchen chair and strode quickly to answer the front door. "Who could that be," she mused to herself?

She opened the door and saw the uniformed officer standing there and her heart sank. Instinctively sensing something was amiss. "Is anything wrong officer," she queried?

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," he began; "I'm afraid there's been an accident."

"Oh my God...," she gasped!

"Trevor isn't dead," she uttered, fear the worst. Her heart sinking and a lump forming in the pit of her stomach.

"No he is still alive...but the medics said it didn't look good," the officer added somberly. "If you want to go to the hospital I can take you...It's not a good idea to drive."

"No thanks officer I rather drive myself...I'm ok," she retorted.

The officer left and Kayla scrambled around gathering up her purse and car keys. Within minutes she was heading down the road towards town hoping he would still be alive when she arrived at the hospital. She drove faster then she had ever driven in her life.

She parked the black, Toyota in front of the sprawling, hospital and strode briskly inside the emergency room entrance. Preparing her for the worst she slowly, walked up to the reception desk.

"I'm looking for Trevor Watson...he was in a car accident," she queried excitedly?

"If you'll have a seat I'll have the doctor who looked after him come out and talk to you," the young, lady at the desk answered.

She went and sat in one of the waiting area chairs in the crowded waiting area tapping her foot anxiously. Trying to remain calm, she glanced around the waiting area at the little kid's with the sniffles that their anxious parents bought in. She wrung her hands anxiously. Her palms, moist with sweat, all kinds of thoughts were running through her mind.

"Excuse me were you looking for Mr. Watson," the young, doctor asked?

"Yes I am...is he ok...can I see him," she asked?

"I'm afraid he is in surgery right now," the doctor replied. "It's touch and go right now." The doors to the emergency room burst open and the doctor had to excuse himself abruptly.

She walked up to the reception desk once again and asked the lady there for directions to surgery. The lady pointed her in the direction of the elevators telling her to press the button for the second floor. She courteously, thanked the young, lady and briskly turned and strode off towards the elevators.

She waited anxiously for the elevator. When the doors opened she stepped inside and punched the button for the second floor. The elevator doors shut and began its ascent. In less then a minute the doors whisked open and she stepped out. The antiseptic, odor she hated about hospitals assailing her nostrils she maundered through the labyrinth of the hospitals corridors following the arrows on the floor. Eventually reaching the reception area of the surgical wing, her stomach roiling with anxiety and the almost overpowering odor of antiseptic she fought the urge to vomit.

The lady behind the reception desk looked up acknowledging her presence; "may I help you...?"

"Yes...I'm looking for Trevor Watson...I was told he was still in surgery," she inquired?

"Yes he is...if you would like to wait I will have the surgeon speak to you as soon as he's done," replied the receptionist.

"Thank you very much..., she murmured as she turned and maundered towards the waiting area. She perched herself in one of the chairs and breath a deep, sigh. Her hands, shaking visibly, anxiously, she watched the clock on the wall. Watching as the seconds turned into minutes.

Spying the coffee urn sitting on a nearby table she arose from her perch and walked slowly towards it. With shaking hands she managed to pour herself some in a Styrofoam cup. This couldn't be happening to her she thought to herself as she strode back to her seat.

The minutes, ticked by before she spied the surgeon still in his surgical scrubs approaching her, she stood up and met the surgeon halfway.

"Are you waiting for news on Mr. Watson," he inquired?

"Yes I am...how is he...please tell me he is going to be alright," she replied anxiously.

"Well he is very lucky...", the surgeon, began; "he made it through the surgery fine...his vital signs are stable...we were able to remove the clot putting pressure on his spinal cord...but its too early to tell if there is any permanent damage."

"Permanent damage," she queried, her heart sinking even more.

"When he brought in he had some paralysis in his legs...we won't know for sure for a few days till we do some tests," the surgeon explained.

"When can I see him..., she asked after taking a deep breath to calm herself down?

"Well right now he is in recovery...probably not until tomorrow", the surgeon replied; "You may as well go home and get some rest...I'll call you if there is any change...."

The surgeon was right there was nothing she could do there she was emotionally drained. She needed to go home and rest. It would do neither of them any good if she became ill. After leaving her name and number with the receptionist she slowly, navigated the labyrinth of corridors again heading for the elevators.

Eventually she found her way to the entrance she came in and ventured out into the parking lot walking briskly through the gathering darkness to her car. She opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. Sitting behind the wheel she took a deep breath and broke down weeping. It was the first time since she heard of Trevor's accident that she allowed herself to cry. The tears kept flowing from her eyes as she thought of him lying in that hospital bed alone.

She wasn't sure how long she had sat there weeping. It could have been minutes or hours. She was broken out of her reverie by the cacophony of rain drops pelting the windshield from a sudden summer storm. She started the car and turned on the windshield wipers as she pulled from the parking lot and drove home.

She drove slowly and carefully on the half hour drive back to the plantation. The pelting, rain making it difficult to see the road even with the wipers running full speed. Pulling onto the lane leading to the plantation she pulled up to the main house. Opening the car door she made a mad dash to the porch.

The house, seemed eerily, quiet without Trevor's presence as she opened the door and ventured inside shutting it behind her and searching for the light switch. She walked slowly up the staircase to her room. The only sound being the creaking of the stairs and the rain peppering the windows.

She quickly doffed her clothes and donned an oversize tee-shirt and a pair of shorts and slid beneath the coolness of the sheets. The lingering, scent of their love making assailing her nostrils, she lay there for some time, exactly how long she wasn't sure listening to the insistent, tattoo of the rain against the windows.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it began and the house was eerily, quiet. The only sound was the ticking of the alarm clock on the nightstand. She found herself unable to sleep her eye's open staring at the ceiling thinking of Trevor. Missing his arm's enfolding her. His laughter, the warmth of his body next to hers, wondering if she would ever feel that again, rolling over on her side in a fetal position she clutched a pillow and hugged it tightly her eye's finally shutting as she fell asleep.

The shrill tinkling of the telephone roused her from her restless slumber. "Hello", she answered groggily. Her stomach lurching as she recognized the husky, male voice on the other end of the phone. "How did you get this number", she queried?

"That's not important Kayla," replied Devon Kincaid; "What is important is that I need to see you."

"I already told you Devon that it's over between us...," she replied, bile rising in her throat as she fought back a wave of nausea; "I don't think there is anything more to discuss."

"Ah but that's where you're wrong my dear Kayla," Devon's, husky male voice replied "Meet me tomorrow at one o'clock sharp at the Southern Belle Cafe I think you will find it very worthwhile."

"I'll be there, Devon but after that I don't want to hear from you again...do I make myself clear," she said, bitterly.

"We shall she my dear...we shall see," he said hanging up the phone.

The morning sun peeked over the horizon. The beckoning, rays alighting on her slumbering, figure. Her eyelid's fluttered open. She stretched her willowy, torso and threw the cover's from atop her sliding her legs out from beneath the sheets. She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and noticed it was almost seven. She hardly slept a wink all night tossing and turning as she pondered the meaning behind the late night phone call from her ex lover. Wondering why anyone in their right mind would be awake at this ungodly hour of the morning. The sun, barely peeking over the horizon she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and forced herself to start a fresh pot of coffee. The aromatic aroma filling her nostrils.

Pouring her a steaming, mug of coffee, she sat at the kitchen table quietly reflecting on her life as she sipped the steaming, beverage. Her parents, had endured troubled times in their marriage. Both of them guilty of having illicit affairs, her mother, had remarried an older man. Eventually they divorced when she was just turning twelve. Probably for the better she began to realize as she grew older. After the divorce, she turned her attention to her schoolwork. Graduating from high school with an A average and a scholarship to Harvard University.

Trevor's accident was forcing her to reevaluate her life. Forcing her to realize just how fragile her very own existence was. How in the blink of an eye it can all change. Forcing her to face the realization that she could lose Trevor forever, her goals she had set for herself. The novel she was working on all that suddenly seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things all she wanted all she needed was to have him back with her again.

The coffee was helping to rejuvenate her wee bit as she stood up and padded over to the coffee maker in her pink, furry bunny slippers. Pouring herself another steaming cup of liquid energy, glancing at the clock on the wall she found she was running late she had barely enough time to shower, dress and race to the hospital for visiting hours.

She arrived at the sprawling, hospital complex just as visiting hours started. She quickly made her way upstairs to the Intensive Care Unit and caught the young, surgeon from the day before just as he was leaving. "Hello doctor...is there any improvement in Mr. Watson's condition...can I see him...," she queried?

"I wish I could give you better news...", the surgeon began; "he seems to have lapsed into a coma...but his vital signs are stable at this point...yes you can see him...but please just for a few minutes...." The surgeon opening the door to his room and ushering her inside letting it shut softly behind her.

Her mouth, opened in a silent, gasp as she saw him lying on the hospital bed. Tubes and wires protruding from every orifice, Gathering her courage she walked closer to the bed and pulled up a chair. "Trevor I love you so much. You have to come back to me...I'm not ready to lose you...," she spoke softly, looking for any sign of response from him. She sensed that he could hear her that he was still with her. She bent over the bed and kissed him softly on the cheek.

She arrived at the restaurant shortly after one o'clock. She spied him almost immediately and get felt a knot form in her stomach. He was standing at the bar. He motioned her over and she moved as if she was in slow motion. "Hello Kayla...how nice it is to see you again...," he smiled.

"Cut the crap...," she replied, venomously; "what is it that you want...?" Taking a long, lingering look at him she noticed that he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Obviously his nose had been broken before as it was slightly, misshapen. His skin was tanned with just the shadow of stubble. His eye's, was dark and mysterious and yes even dangerous. Eyes a woman could lose herself in. The knot in the pit of her stomach growing into a gnawing ache as she continued her cursory, inspection, her eyes, roaming over the rippling, muscles of his chest and the corrugated, washboard like abdomen.

"Please so much hostility...," he said; "may I buy you a drink."

"Thank you...," she smiled at least trying to act civil.

"Bartender another vodka martini for me and let me guess...a white wine for the lady...," he said. "This weather down here must be agreeing with you Kayla you look positively radiant."