Page 35 of About the Green

Vert sucking lightly… Warm tongue and soft pressure.

Shit.

I bet he would know exactly what he’s doing. The way he devoured them with his eyes alone…

I’m sure he is the kind of man to show more than tell you how he could—

If I were someone else, I might be embarrassed by how I'm dripping down my thighs enough to where he can see it without me even spreading my legs.

"You're so wet," he says, with a warm hand pressed against my thigh. Not spreading me exactly but…

The goosebumps begin to rise up on flesh that hasn't been touched this intimately—with this much care—in too long.

I don't know what to say, so I do my best to stop shivering. It's no use, as I am now trembling with something more than cold.

From where Vert is kneeling in front of me, he has to look up to meet my eyes.

Vert on his knees like this is illicit.

It should be illegal.

Honestly, I don't know how I was supposed to react in any other way.

"Are you still with me, doll?" he asks, and I focus back on staying in my body, staying present in this moment.

My mind had already begun to flutter away, trying to stay separate from the conflicting feelings of pleasure and pain and vulnerability.

Before, his nickname for me was derogatory and mean. It felt like a criticism and a critique over how I chose to live my life and present myself, but…

Now?

It sounds a little different.

I nod my head. "Yea, I'm... I'm still here."

He reaches into the box with all of the first aid equipment and pulls out a couple of swabs. "I'm gonna need to clean this now that I’ve got everything out, so it's gonna hurt…"

"Okay," I say, trying not to think about the pain that's going to be coming very soon.

"There's gauze too," he says, "and some tape. I should be able to get this covered up. Honestly, I don't know what you were thinkin’, rollin’ out of the car like that. You're lucky I found you, and someone else didn't."

I don't tell him that someone else did, but I looked deranged enough that they didn't want any trouble, and that I'm certainly not worth it. Instead, I shrug.

"Milkshakes make everything better," I say, "especially when they have mini marshmallows and tiny little pieces of graham cracker. Have you ever had something like that?"

He answers while he rips open one of the alcohol pads. "A fuck ton of sugar. Yea, I've had a fuck ton of sugar before. Don't recommend it. You might as well do crack or somethin’ like that for how much of a sugar high you get from drinkin’ somethin’ like that."

"Aren't you a dad? Aren't you supposed to say, like, stuff like, 'Just say no to drugs,' or something like that?"

His eyebrow lifts as he looks back up at me. Those gold flecks I had noticed before, shimmering with how directly the light catches them. "You do know what I do for a livin’, right, doll?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"And I know what you do for a livin’, so what's the point?"

"Well," I start, but he just shakes his head on a laugh.

"I was jokin’ anyway. I think your milkshake's way better than you snortin' a line."