“Oh, Sully. Shit. Yes.” I lose sense of words and my body when a third finger sinks in and he flicks my G-spot over and over until the air in my lungs turns to fire and my bones melt into jelly.
My body spasms around his fingers and he pushes them in deeper. He sucks on my clit until it’s nothing but nerves. He lets me ride my orgasm out on his hand before gently removing himself.
“You smell sugary sweet.” He licks the stickiness off his fingers. There’s a glint in his eye and then he’s on his feet, pulling me up with him. Mylegs wrap around his waist and my arms tangle around his neck. “This is my favorite view.” He licks my nipple and gazes into my eyes.
He carries me into my bedroom and sets me on the mattress. His pants and underwear are kicked to the side and he nudges my legs open with his knee. “I hope you don’t plan on swimming straight tomorrow.”
“Don’t work,” is all I can say. My hand strokes his dick, my thumb rubbing against the head.
“Good.” He plunges into me. All I can hear is skin on skin and my heavy breathing.
Sully whispers in German, and I grab his balls, and he spills into me.
He falls next to me onto his back, his chest heaving. “Fuck. I gotta write a song about your body.”
I nuzzle under his arm and listen to his heart pound and slowly return to normal rhythm. “You want to write me a song, my sailor?”
He twirls my nipple gingerly between the pads of his fingers. “Sailor? Huh? Then you’re my mermaid?”
“As you wish.” I close my eyes and press my body to his, molding to him. The room smells of sex. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this satisfied.
The only light in my room peeks around the royal purple curtains as the sun rises, turning the sky cotton candy pink and chasing away the stars. I sit up and yank the blanket off before realizing I’m still naked.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, turning to Sully, but all that’s on his side is a pillow.
After a few seconds of searching the apartment, I learn I’m alone.
There’s a freshly brewed pot of coffee and a box of doughnuts on the kitchen counter. A note half hides under the box. I unfold it and read.
I fall into a kitchen chair and glance at the time on the oven’s clock. It’s eight in the morning. I touch my thumb to my ring finger to spin the mermaid ring I never take off, but it’s gone. I stare at my blank hand.What happened to my favorite ring?
My stomach growls, and I bite into a fluffy pink sprinkled doughnut. After, I shower and pull on some oversized sweats and a Kiss t-shirt. I refuse to check my text messages. Instead, I drink coffee while standing on my tiny balcony and enjoy a crisp California morning. The smog is minimal, and I can almost make out the Hollywood sign in the distance. A day off is sacred with my busy schedule, and I won’t allow anything to ruin it. I push my missing ring out of my mind and try to remain positive as I sip my delicious coffee.
17
Withmysecondcupof coffee gone, I decide to tear the place apart, searching for my ring. It might not be worth a lot of money, but it was the first gift I bought myself with the money earned from my first successful mermaid gig. It’s a promise to never give up and to do anything for my dream. I’ve had it for years and my finger feels incomplete without it.
First, I search the couch, between every cushion and underneath it. Nothing. I grab a flashlight and look on the ground. I move random things and search behind them. Not sure how the ring would slip off after wearing it all these years, but something happened to it. Finally, I search my room and the bed. Nada. Where the hell could it be?
Did Sully take it?
My phone buzzes.Is that him admitting his crime?
Unfortunately, the text is from my mom reminding me of our shopping date today. I look at the time. Shit. I’m late.
I rush into the bathroom to brush my hair and put on a little makeup. With fresh clothes on, I slip on my shoes and fly out the door with my purse.
Mom’s sitting in the bookstore’s Starbucks at a table with a coffee in hand as she leafs through a magazine.
“Hey, Mom. Hope you weren’t waiting long.” I sit in the chair across from her.
She glances up from the article she’s reading. “It’s fine. How are you? Your hair looks a little dull.”
I run my fingers through the hair lying on my shoulder. It looks fine to me. “Must’ve forgotten to condition last night. But I’m good. How are you?”
She’s still studying my hair. “It’s all that swimming. Those chemicals are not good for your hair.”
Of course it’s because of my swimming and not running out the door without more than a few strokes from a hairbrush.
