Getting back on his knees, he tucked his head between my thighs and found my clit with his tongue, shaking all sanity from my head. He pumped the sunglasses in and out of me, flicking his tongue, thorough and deliberate, both a perfect combination that worked in harmony to each other. I flung my head back, whining out the roller coaster as he brought me to the brink of shattering.
I came on his tongue and on his red heart-shaped sunglasses. After I became a quivering mess. Dig pulled his sunglasses out of me carefully and I collapsed right there, into his arms on the floor. I closed my eyes, wandering through the bliss of the orgasm.
Dwelling in the heat of my release, Dig cradled me on his lap, my head tucked over his collar bone. He smelled like blood, like sex, like antique wine. Opening my eyes, I found the fabric of his black shirt, a scar along his neck and a hint of a tattoo.
He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.
I looked up.
“No!” He pushed my head back down. “Don’t look at me.”
“But—”
He slapped his hand over my eyes, blocking my sight.
His own chest was panting too. “You can’t look at me Princess.”
I frowned in the dark under his hand. “Why not?”
Keeping his hand over my eyes, he shifted his other and felt over my chest. Under his palm, my heartbeat dulled back into an easy rhythm. He sighed. “Not yet.”
34
Dig carried me to the bed and laid me down, placing the bouquet of wildflowers on the bedside table.
After checking the weapons in his belt and jacket, he pointed his finger to me with warning. “Stay.”
I rolled over on my belly, putting my chin in my palms and kicked my legs around in the air. “Stay here?”
“Stay there. Eat something. Keep hydrated. Have a bath. When I’m back, I’m making dinner and then if you want it, we’re fucking.”
This was all very tempting, but I had other plans.
He left.
During that time, I ate and drank and slapped on vitamin A undereye patches, fixed my hair and rubbed sunscreen wherever I was bare. I pulled on my boots, changed into my bra and another one of Dig’s t-shirts and packed my satchel.
The apartment was up four storeys and the staircase was a maze. When finally, I reached the ground stairwell, I pushed open the front apartment doors. Seams of white gold sunlight spilled over the city, desolate of people —
I twisted back to the apartment. “Oh, shit!”
I forgot about the upside-down man.
Making it back inside of the apartment, I was already sweating from the workout of four flights of stairs and so I had another shower, used a hair mask, moisturised and changed my t-shirt again and padded into the spare room.
The upside-down man hung upside down with the kiddie pool under him swirling with his blood and tears.
“Hey.” I flicked his cheek. “Wake up. I’m saving you.”
He did not. Still alive but sleeping.
“Rude!” I punched my hips with my fists. “This is not the time to take a nap—oh, wait. Dig knocked you out.”
I clicked my fingers in front of his face. Nothing.
It took a while to cut through the cord that had him strung up with the butterknife, but I refused to leave him hanging. Literally. Just as I was about to cut through the last thread, his eyes fluttered open, he moaned.
“Yay!” I almost jumped. “You’re finally awake!”
