“Leave it,” she said, still on top. “I’ve used it up. I’m finished with it.”
I thought I detected a hint, and was ready to promise anything as we moved with each other, against each other. “Need a new one?”
She leaned down, hair and breasts grazing my face. “You’ll get a new thing for me—a new old thing, very old—and bring it next time? What day is it?” She straightened up on me, closed her eyes, rocked her hips. “Monday. Very early on Monday. You want to be my Monday?”
“Sure. Yeah. Sure.”
“Then here.”
She offered a third n****e, a tiny one right below her left breast. I ran my tongue over it to hear her sigh. I found myself suckling her there, a liquid thick and sweet. Like something produced by a flower or a bright insect. I saw that island again, bright on the breast of the ocean.
