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“Never let your guard down because you never know when someone is going to take you by surprise,” he snaps at me a moment before his wet thumb presses into the tight ring of my ass, making me gasp.
“Fuck,” I curse, feeling the burn.
He presses farther into me, and the feeling of having both my holes filled has my imagination thinking about what it will be like to have both Zig and Oz inside me at the same time. The visual is enough to have me detonating around him. I squeeze him so tight that he has no choice but to come with me.
Afterward, we collapse into a hot, sweaty heap on the ground as we struggle to catch our breath. Zig rolls toward me, his eyes searching my face for any signs of distress, but all he’ll find is a very satisfied woman.
“I like fighting with you, Zig,” I muse, making the man laugh loudly.
“I bet you do. I lose all fucking control when I’m around you.”
I get a thrill knowing that I make this man unravel.
He lifts his arm and looks down at his watch with a frown. “Oz should be back by now.”
I sit up and look down at him, a frisson of worry snaking into my happy high. “You should go look for him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Zig climbs to his feet and yanks his shorts back up.
“I’m sure he is too, but after last time…” I let my voice trail off, thinking about the snakebite all over again.
“Fuck. Fine.” He walks over to his backpack, pulls out his spare gun, and hands it to me.
“I have Oz’s knife,” I protest. I’m good with a knife. Guns, not so much.
“And now you have a gun too. Humor me, little one, and keep them both handy.”
If it gives him peace of mind, what’s the harm? “Okay. I’m going to go for a quick swim and wash off while I wait for you to come back. Don’t be long.”
He presses a kiss on my lips. “If he comes back before I do, make him wait here.”
“I will. Be safe.”
“You too.”
Another hard kiss, and he’s gone. I could sense his unease about leaving me, but it’s not like Oz to be gone this long, not when he knows we need to be back before it gets dark. I grab the knife I left in the target earlier and take it with the gun over to the water’s edge and leave them on the large flat rock with my T-shirt before diving in. The water is cool and refreshing, and after I use a small amount of our dwindling shower gel supply to clean up with, I float around on my back until my worry starts to get the better of me.
With a sigh, I climb out of the water and sit on the edge of the rock, wringing out my hair. The sun beats down on me, drying my skin as I close my eyes and lean back. I sway my feet in the water and relax. Zig and Oz will be back soon, and then we’ll have to begin the trek back, my least favorite part of the day. Still, it’s worth it just for this. Sitting here, it’s easy to pretend I’m in a tropical paradise. I guess, in a way, I am, just as long as I don’t think about what’s going on outside this bubble we’ve created.
A rustling sound has me opening my eyes, expecting my men. Only it’s not them at all. I freeze, sure I’m hallucinating, until my hallucination freezes too.
“Oh my God.” My hands fly to my mouth in shock as I take in the little girl three feet in front of me.
Her shock wears off first as her eyes move down my body, which is when I remember my nakedness. I grab the T-shirt from beside me and pull it on over my head. It’s the only time I lose eye contact with her.
As I sit here, my hands shake, so I cross my arms over my chest and tuck my hands under my armpits to hide them. She can’t be more than seven or eight, but the sight of her makes my heart beat wildly out of control.
“Hello?” I say softly.
She doesn’t answer, but she tips her head, her long black braid falling over her shoulder. She’s wearing what might have started out as a white sundress, but even from here, I can see the smears of mud across the front of it. She takes a step closer, so I stay still, not wanting to scare her away.
“How are you here?” I can’t help the words that slip out.
She says nothing but walks closer. She’s fearless while I’m sitting here shaking like a leaf. It’s not that I’m scared of a kid, but of the reminder of what she represents.
The bubble has burst, and Zig, Oz, and I are no longer alone.
She stops in front of me and touches my hair. She says something in a language I don’t understand, but her eyes widen in awe. I reach up and remember that I had spent time earlier putting little fishtail braids across the front of my hair to keep it off my face before pulling the back up into a messy bun.
