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Ava's real glad when she's strong enough to take a shower without Boyd waiting outside the door. Not that he's not real nice about it, sometimes even looking at her like he's Charlie and she's the golden ticket. Which is by-God flattering after she'd been laid up. But sometimes a girl just needs time alone. Boyd didn't know what a gift he gave her with the handheld shower head with all the settings and stuff. Or maybe he did...she'd almost like to tease him about it to see the hardened criminal blush.She stepped in with some confidence now, more sure than she's been in a while that those great legs can do their job and support her weight.
She will, however, miss Boyd's hair-washes;like many an ex-stylist, she gets a tremendous pleasure from getting her hair washed and it surprised her how good those thieving fingers felt on her scalp.She did tell him that once, and he got boyish and awkward. He must of liked it though...he never got a compliment that wasn't about blowing shit up. The water laps at her skin like soft rain or a lover's warm tongue, just from the way she moves around, "performing her ablutions" as Boyd calls it, like everybody doesn't do it, except maybe those filthy Bennets. Just thinking of them took her baby thrill away.
Well, shit. She hadn't been planning on a marathon, but she *had* been pleasuring bodies since she was...what? Fourteen? She'd never leave anyone she'd been with like that, and she shouldn't do it to herself, neither."It's okay. Just relax. Ava knows what to do," she whispered. Talking to herself, and like she was her own reluctant trick, too. Maybe that bullet wasn't her biggest problem.
No matter...she leaned back, on Johnny's old bath bench, let the water flow, and just kind of let her brain empty out. She's not conscious of thinking of anyone special at first...the pulsations against her clit are their own reward, but then she knows it's one special cowboy's mouth that she remembers, despite believing she'd put away childish things. "Damn you, Raylan Givens," and it's almost like her high school fantasies all over. Except Ava's daddy would have worn her out if he'd suspected she'd had a taste for such unnatural acts back then.
But it probably paled next to what Boyd would do, if he knew that, in this way, at least, his rival is one of the best she'd ever had. Guess all that target practice is good for something, she thought and smiled. Still, if he knew that, Boyd might kill them both, which, far from being the lady-boner-killer she might expect, inflames her till she doesn't know what kind of noises she might of made or what planet she might be on."Oh, God, Raylan," she moans, finally, until the pleasure is just a dull roar of blood in her ears.
A surprisingly gentle tap on the bathroom door. "Ava, are you all right in there? I thought I heard sounds of distress."
Poor Boyd. It really had been a while since he'd been with a woman outside Audrey's, or those screaming banshees on the porn videos. She took a deep breath. "Just having a little pain, but it's okay, " Dang. Even when she wasn't coming her brains out, she'd often thought she should put a bell around that man's neck. Especially if it wasn't his name she was screaming out.
"It emphatically is not okay... I should talk some sense into that doctor of yours."
Ava wrapped herself in a towel. "Don't do nothin' stupid, Boyd."
It was nice to know he cared, but people Boyd Crowder talked sense into often emerged worse-for-wear. "The doctor said it would be three steps forward, two steps back. You know that," she reminded him, coming into the living room in the towel and pecking his cheek.
"Thanks for refreshing my recollections," Boyd told her, looking sharply into her eyes. "I trust that rosy glow you're now sporting will announce your eventual return to health. Although, currently, it's a trifle hectic for my liking."