head to the door as fast as I can but as I swing it open, I can’t resist the urge to look back at him. He hasn’t moved. He’s still flat on his back, one hand behind his head. He’s trailing a finger through the pool of semen on his chest. When I make eye contact with him, he raises his finger to his lips, tilting his head as if he’s looking at a goddamn breakfast food, and leans in to lick it.
