Six(40)

Untangling my legs was a bit difficult as they’d gotten stiff, but when I managed to stand, he slipped out, along with a gush of warm, wet pearly white come. I glanced down, staring at the puddle on his abdomen and knowing there was still more deeper in.

He didn’t say a word, just stuffed his soaked cock away and buttoned up his jeans. At least we were only a block or two from the hotel.

My * was wet with an aching tingle as I found my panties and pulled them back on. He left me on the edge, and I wanted to jump him.

Looking down at the basket of bikinis, I pursed my lips. “Hmm, I only got to try on one.”

He leaned over and rifled through, holding each one up to me before throwing it down. About halfway through he kept one and sat back.

“This one.”

I shrugged, and picked my bra off the floor along with the rest of my clothes and put them back on.

In the end, the bikini didn’t really matter. Whichever one he picked would be fine. After all, he was paying for it and letting me wear it on the beach.

At least he picked one of the prints I liked the most—a stripe with geometric shapes that resembled a kaleidoscope of colors.

I made Six walk through the curtain first, and I trailed behind. There were a few new customers in the store and some of them turned to stare at us.

We were heard.

I tried not to be embarrassed, but when I caught the nasty glare of the clerk at the register, heat flooded my cheeks.

On our way to the register, I weaved through the racks, picking up a pair of shorts, a tanktop, and flip flops. He said I was going to get my beach day, so I topped it off with a towel, sunscreen, and a beach bag.

I couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a month, I was going to do something I wanted to do. Something I enjoyed. I was going to savor the f*ck out of whatever beach time he gave me.

It may have just been fulfilling a dying woman’s wish, but I didn’t care. I had a date with the ocean.





Six let me have the next afternoon on the beach. Warm sun and sand, salty waters, the whole shebang. Though I had to admit it wasn’t as much fun by myself, even with the rented chairs and umbrella complete with a waiter that brought me a Six-approved fruity drink.

Six was simply a guardian, making sure I didn’t pursue my swim to Cuba idea or get carried away by one of the meatheads tanning his over-muscled, over-tanned skin. Glued to his phone, he only left the lounger to get his feet wet in the waves. He even brought his gun with us, stuffed in the beach bag and under his chair.

Digby and I had talked multiple times about going to Miami for vacation, but it never happened.

“Your burn faded,” Six said the next morning.

I turned in front of the mirror to get a look at my back and shoulders. Sure enough, the color had evened out. Though, no matter how tan I got, I still looked burned.

By evening, pink had begun to blossom on my skin. Even applying SPF 50 every few hours wasn’t enough to protect my pale skin from the intense Miami sun.

It didn’t hurt. I’d been burned so many times in my life that mild burns didn’t even phase me. I let out a small laugh, remembering the time my olive skinned friend got her first burn. It was mild, and she was a big baby about it.

I spun back around and was about to say something when a giant cockroach flew in front of my face. I let out a scream, swatting at the air and moving back.

“I hate this place!”

Even Six’s lips turned down in disgust as he hunted the motherf*cker down. It was the worst of all of the motels. Old and dilapidated, outdated—sure, I could handle that. Disgusting, dirty, probably hadn’t been cleaned in months, and infested with bugs was too much. Why wasn’t the place shut down?

“At least they shut down the restaurant. I can’t imagine how bad that place would be,” I said as I shivered in disgust. “Today’s special is our Joe’s Apartment burger, topped off with locally cultivated roaches. So local, they come from our own walls.”

Six picked up his gun and stuffed it under his shirt in his waistband. “Let’s go get some food.”

I stared at him. “Do you have a sense of humor?”

“Maybe.”

I rolled my eyes and followed him out the door. “How can you even think about food after that?”

“It’s a bug.”

I stuck my tongue out with a gagging noise. “A nasty-ass bug.”

“I’ve eaten worse.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Eew. I’ve kissed that mouth.”

He started down the stairs and turned back to me. “Sometimes you do whatever you have to in order to survive.”

Damn if I didn’t know that. “Story of my f*cking life.”

He didn’t respond. In fact, I was lucky to have gotten that far.

After a yummy lunch at a diner a few blocks down, Six didn’t head back to the hotel.

“Where are we going?” I asked, confused to be going in the opposite direction of the disgusting place we slept.

Then again, it might have been good we weren’t going back right away—I liked what I had for lunch and wanted to keep it down.

“To meet someone.”

“About something? Then we’ll go somewhere?” I asked in a chipper voice, earning a glare for my fun.

After a few blocks, he turned down an alley and we popped out on the beach. I sighed as I stared out at the waves. The day before had been so much fun, and I wanted nothing more than to run back into the surf.