Surviving Raine

“We should probably see if it worked,” she said and then quickly moved over to me and caught my lips with hers.

I didn’t give a shit if the makeshift toothbrushes worked or not because Raine’s lips were on me, and that’s all I found particularly noteworthy. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer, reaching into her mouth with my tongue. I had become so accustomed to her scent and taste, they were almost as ingrained in my senses as my own. With her teeth cleaned, she still tasted like my Raine.

My Raine. Where the fuck did that come from?

Raine maneuvered herself onto my lap, placed her hands on either side of my face, and kissed me deeply. She backed off after a minute, her fingers trailing over the now smooth skin on my face. She scowled.

“You don’t like it?” I asked.

“I do,” she said, “but it does make you look very different. I was just wondering how you managed to get it so smooth.”

I pulled out my knife and flipped it open.

“It’s really, really sharp,” I said.

“Makes me wish I had one, too,” Raine said.

“You have something you want to shave?” I cracked a smile, unable to help myself and my wandering imagination.

“I’d love to shave my legs,” she said, a blush suddenly covering her face, “and my…um…armpits.”

She giggled, which made me laugh, too.

“Why the fuck are armpits funny?”

“They aren’t,” Raine said. “I’m pretty glad I’m in your shirt now instead of a bathing suit.”

“I really don’t give a shit,” I told her honestly.

“Well, I do. I guess it’s ingrained in me. The perils of popular female hygiene culture.”

“Let me do it,” I said suddenly. My cock jumped to attention at the thought, though I couldn’t have explained why if someone had asked me. The idea of shaving her was just…hot. Sliding my knife blade over her skin…yeah, I definitely wanted to do that.

“Do what?” Raine asked with her eyes narrowed.

“I’ll shave you,” I clarified. She started shaking her head immediately.

“No way! You give me the knife, and I’ll do it myself!”

“Have you ever shaved with a knife like this?” I argued. “There is no way you wouldn’t end up slicing yourself open, and in case you haven’t noticed, there isn’t a fucking first aid station around. I can do it without cutting you.”

“You are serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes big and round and glaring up at me.

“Very much so.” The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it. I looked at her legs, really just noticing that there was a decent amount of hair on them. I didn’t care, so I hadn’t paid attention before. “Let me do it.”

“You really want to?” she asked again, trying to comprehend my implausible suggestion.

“Raine, I really, really want to.”

“You are sick!” She laughed again and slapped me on the shoulder.

“Let me.” I was starting to sound like I was begging, and I didn’t give a shit. It would be worth it, so I’d beg if that’s what it took. My voice dropped low as I moved closer to her. “I want to. Please?”

Raine looked back into my eyes and obviously decided I was completely serious. I glanced away for a minute because I realized she was going to say no, and I didn’t really want to watch her refuse me.

“Okay,” she suddenly blurted out, “if you really think you can – without cutting me, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t cut you. I swear you won’t get cut.”

“All right, but this is against my better judgment.”

I smiled and motioned for her to come closer. I reached out and took her heel in my hand, pulling her foot into my lap. I felt my tongue dart out and slide over my lips as I looked down at her gorgeous leg. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about her wanting to shave even when my beard was starting to itch and annoy me in the heat. I’d been with women all over the world, and plenty of them didn’t shave, so it didn’t really bother me. The thought of shaving it off of Raine, though, was certainly an intriguing idea.

I slid my finger down the skin of her calf, brushing the stubbly hair on her leg all in the same direction. I heard Raine catch her breath, and I gave her a half smile before I did the same on the other side of her calf. The skin of her legs was ashy and dry from exposure to salt, and bits of it flecked off under my fingers. I found myself wanting to lick them to see if the smooth, caramel color would come back with the moisture.

“We need water,” I said. “Hand me the container on the left.”

“You’re going to use fresh?”

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