Landmine - Post Malone

7

Dillon's eyes snap open, and she smiles when she sees she managed to wake up before Austin. She won't let him leave her in this trailer for another day. She will go crazy. So she is going to get dressed and ready before him and then demand he take her with him for the day. She knows she will just end up sitting off to the side but she won't be alone and caged up in this trailer. She slips out of the bed as quietly as she can then tip-toes into the bathroom.

She cleans her face carefully in the sink with water and a clean cotton pad. She looks even worse than she did the day before. She doesn't look like herself. She has two angry thick black streaks under her eyes, and her eyes are swollen. Her entire left cheek is swollen due to the stitched-up cut, and her lips are swollen too. She also realises she has angry black bruises on her chest and both her upper arms. Luke did not hold back on his beating and Dillon understands Austin not even considering letting her speak to him. But Luke knows something, so if she is ever presented with the chance to talk to Luke, she will take it.

She also has faint red lines on her neck, but they are not from Luke. They are from the lead before Luke who had her up against the wall by her neck. But she broke him down eventually, and he confirmed that he had bought drugs from Isla's boyfriend once. She has banked that information for now because she doesn't know what to do about it. Isla would never have supported that. She sighs and turns on the shower, then puts up her hair and steps under the spray, being careful not to wet her face and ruin her nose splint. The hot water relaxes her and she sighs happily as her muscles melt.

The shower curtain is then drawn back suddenly and Austin appears, looking at her with an expectant face. "I am coming with you today. I can't stay caged up alone in this trailer anymore. I will go crazy," she says. She says it sternly so he knows there is no room to argue. He smirks and steps into the shower.

"I mean it. I won't take no for an answer."

"Of course, ma'am," he says, still smirking then sinks to his knees in front of her. "What are you doing?" she asks. "Breakfast," he mumbles taking her leg and hooking it over his shoulder. "Oh..." she breaths out then squeaks when he hooks her other leg over his shoulder too and stands up, his face buried deep between her legs. Her back hits the wall and she grabs the top of the shower curtain rail. "Fuck," she breathes out, sinking her fingers into his hair as his tongue flicks into her. He is unrelenting, his tongue going deep into her while his nose rubs against her clit. She is at his mercy and can do nothing but hold on while he thrashes his tongue inside her and teases out her orgasm. It hits pretty quickly, her fingers curling and grabbing a fist full of his hair. "Shit. Shit. Austin!" she cries out arching her back and squeezing his head between her thighs. He pushes his face deeper into her folds and kneads her ass as he pulls out every last ounce of her orgasm while she whimpers. "Fuck," she moans and rolls her hips into his face. Then his tongue softens as her orgasm slowly starts to fade. He runs his tongue in lazy circles around her folds while her body melts, and she succumbs to the softness of his tongue sweeping over her.

"You going to continue to eat me out all morning," she whispers then giggles when he hums as he continues. She won't stop him. But, then, eventually, with her thighs still shaking, he places her down on her feet, cupping her cheeks and kissing her. "Get dressed," he mumbles into her mouth, tapping her ass, then turning around and soaping himself up. With her brain still in a delicious haze, she steps out of the shower and dries herself, but before she steps out to get dressed, she hears him mumble softly from inside the shower.

"Buckle, darlin'."

She freezes and stares at his shadow through the shower curtain, sucking her lips in to try and control the giddy grin that creeps onto her face. This man has her fucked up. So with jelly-like limps, she slides open the draw and rakes her eyes over the belt buckles. They are all beautiful, but she settles on one with an eagle on it - call her patriotic if you like, but she would very much like to feel that eagle pressed to her thigh. She takes it with both hands, it's heavy and solid in her hands then places it down on the counter next to the sink, still trying to contain her giddy smile before she slips out of the bathroom. The man has her walking on a soft feathery cloud.