Does It Hurt? (35)

She lifts her head, her blonde curls brushing against my nose. She smells of the ocean, and I fucking hate it. It's my favorite scent, and she doesn't deserve to wear it.

“You're not as good at many things as you think you are.”

The implication is loud, and I'm happy to let her make assumptions. Truthfully, Sawyer could make me come with a single look.

Even still, I'm being honest. She's a fucking godsend when it comes to sucking my cock, but she can't lie to save her life. Now that I can look beyond the cloud of lust, I see everything she doesn't say. She thinks she's good at what she does, but really, she's only made it this far by dumb luck. And based on her circumstances, that shit has run dry.

“I will stab you. Get away from me,” she bites out, her tone colored with hurt.

“No.”

She hisses between her teeth, only I continue before she tries to prove a point that she'd really regret.

“There's something right at your feet. Let's see if you can do one thing right, aside from ruining lives.”

A strong gust of wind whips through her hair, sending the tangled curls over her face. My fist tightens, ignoring the urge to gather it in my hand and use it to hold her still while I fuck her mouth.

Whether it's because she's rising to my challenge or simply trying to ignore me, Sawyer slowly lifts the spear, immovable as she tracks the dark shadow swimming around her legs. Part of me is surprised by her ease in the ocean. There could be anything lurking beneath the surface, but she doesn't shy away as it nears.

I hope it's a jellyfish.

One moment, she's frozen. The next, she's plunging the tip of the knife into the water. And then she straightens. I can feel the victory rolling off her in waves.

Peeking over her shoulder, she cuts me a look, staring up at me beneath thick lashes, a smirk tugging up the corner of her lips.

Without looking away, she lifts the weapon, a kingfish stuck on the tip.

Dragging my gaze back to hers feels like two cars colliding head-on. The air between us thickens, and lightning races down my spine when her eyelids droop and her blue eyes heat.

“I win.”

Then, she turns and goes to walk past me, gearing up to shoulder-check me, but I'm stopping her before she even makes it an inch. My hand snaps out to the side, wrapping around her throat and causing her to stiffen once more.

“Bravissima. Now do it again.”

“Excuse you? Get your own,” she chokes out, her tone dripping with malice.

Her hand grabs my wrist, nails digging into my skin as she tries to free herself of me, but it only invigorates me. Before she can blink, I release her and pluck the dead fish off the makeshift spear.

I finally give in and fist her hair with my other hand, bringing her in close.

“We're a team now, baby. Do what you do best and kill anything unfortunate enough to come near you.” By the time I finish my sentence, my hand has moved to her jaw, my thumb swiping along her puffy bottom lip, a cut on it from when I bit her.

Instead of her face flushing like I had expected, she pales, her eyes dimming like when the sun dips beneath the horizon.

Carefully, she raises her trembling hand and removes my hand from her face. Then, she turns and wades farther into the water wordlessly, resuming her search for another fish.

I can only stand there, both confused and suspicious over what the fuck that was about.

Ultimately, I walk away, deciding that I don't really care.



Sawyer doesn't bring back just one kingfish, but three.

I cock a brow, in the process of gutting the first one she caught when she tosses a bundled t-shirt onto the counter.

She reaches over and unravels the fabric, proudly displaying the dead fish within. The sight disgusts me. Fucking humans and their greed. They've overfished so much that even three kingfish being killed damages the ecosystem.

“Wow!” Sylvester exclaims, in the process of trudging down the stairs, when he catches sight of the fish. “How’d ya manage that?”

Sawyer shrugs, an effortless smile gracing her lips, back to her old self as if she didn’t completely shut down only an hour ago.

“A spear.”

Sylvester scoffs, impressed. “So that’s what ya needed the cane for? Usually, I just shoot ’em with my gun. Took me a lot of years and wasted bullets to get my aim that precise. Seems you’re just a natural.”

“Apparently a hidden talent of mine,” she answers breezily. I arch a brow. Not even going to touch on that statement.

With her t-shirt now being used as a net, Sawyer is left in only her jean shorts and bikini top. Something she seems to be regretting now that Sylvester’s stare is boring into her. Twin bright spots form on her cheeks, and her shoulders curl inward. Che stronzo. I clench the knife handle, preparing to gut him instead.

He must sense my furious glare and the threat on the tip of my tongue because he quickly turns his beady eyes to me. It’s not enough to abate the need to spoon them out from his skull anyway.

“Is cooking yer hidden talent?” Sylvester asks.

I narrow my eyes, reluctantly swallowing down the warning.

“I've always known my way around a kitchen, though I don't eat fish, so we'll see how this turns out,” I answer, my tone cold.

“Ah,” he says. “Never known a man to turn down good meat.”