Cold. So intense that I shiver and rub at my arms to warm up, but the friction causes the skin to tear and I’m bleeding.
Crying from a child, loud and piercing, stabs at me until sorrow seeps from my pores like blood from an open vein.
I’m bleeding out. I’m dying. Kill me.
A shrill noise drowns out the sobs of the child and it’s calling me like a flare in the ocean. I follow until it’s loud and prominent in my mind, blocking out everything else. Reality washes over me.
I’m dreaming.
My eyelids try to lift but they feel weighted down with concrete as I try to pry them open. I need to wake up.
Pushing myself to a sitting position, I force myself to rouse fully.
The light from overhead burns my retinas as they finally open and gloss over with a sheen of tears. I swipe away the water droplets forming and breathe in gulps of air.
Taking in my surroundings, the quirky furniture and muted colors signal that I’m at the cabin, and flashes of me coming home and having a mild panic attack remind me that I must have fallen asleep.
Noise pricks my ears, the shrilling sound from my dream. Scanning the room, I follow the sound until I’m at the computer. It’s a Skype call.
Getting to my feet, the groggy pull of tiredness causes me to stumble a little, but I make it to the other side of the room and click the link when I see that it’s Garret calling.
A box opens and his flawless porcelain skin stretched over perfect symmetry features greets me.
Blue orbs decorated with a flutter of dark lashes blink a couple of times as he studies the woman staring back at him.
My image sits like a mirror reflecting back at me in the corner.
My hair is a tangle of dark curls on top of my head in the hairband I used to create a messy bun after my shower earlier.
The dark of my eyes are a direct contrast to the light of his.
My lips are full and pouting, his in a straight line, giving away no emotion.
“You look tired. Are the sleeping pills not helping?” Garret asks, concern lacing his tone.
My gaze falls to the clock, the time in the right hand corner of my screen.
He’s wearing a work suit, despite it being almost ten at night.
The grey pinstripes pull over the thick muscle beneath. I can’t see all of him, but I don’t have to to know what’s there.
“They make me sleep walk,” I admit with a yawn.
“Have you had any incidents?” He gets closer to the screen, to penetrate me with his concerned stare. When he’s this close, I can see the dark circles forming under his bottom lashes.
He works too late and doesn’t give himself enough time to relax. I could help him with that if he were here.
“No. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” I shrug, wiping a hand over my brow, still feeling the slight burn from the light intrusion moments before.
My feet flex as I straighten my legs and stretch. Everything is tight and bound like an overworked spring.
“Have you opened the box?”
His voice cocoons around me and strokes over places already sore from my own touch.
“Evi.”
He says my name sharply to grasp my attention. He always knows when my mind is wandering to bad places.
“Can you focus and answer my question?”
“What did you ask?”
The sigh from his lips whispers over my own and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from spiraling.
“Did you open the box?”
I scan the room, locating the box he speaks of.
“No. I was hoping you would come open it for me.” I half smile.
He smiles tightly in return and shakes his head. “It wouldn’t make seeing what’s inside any easier.”
How would he know?
“Maybe it would.”
“You’re welcome to bring it here.” He raises a brow and then rubs at the small growth of hair on his chin. He’s been working too much; it’s outgrown the usual length he keeps it.
A yawn pushes past my lips. “You know I hate the city.”
His eyes sparkle mischievously. “Maybe you would learn to love it.”
Can you learn to love things?
“Maybe you would learn to love the wilderness if you spent more time in it. We could swim in the lake and barbecue our dinner. Hike, and then finish our nights making love in front of the fire.”
He exhales and uses his middle fingers to massage his temple while closing his eyelids for a moment.
“My profession, Evi. It’s important…” I hold up my hand to cut off his tirade about how important his work is. It’s the same conversation on a different day.
“It’s my birthday for only two more hours and you haven’t even wished me a happy one.” I opt for giving him the doe look I know affects him because his own eyes always soften in response.
Leaning back in his chair, he folds his arms. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his forearms and those veins men have in their arms bulge with the strain.
I want to climb through the screen and mount him, make him bend to my will, mess up that perfectly styled hair, and cause those crystal orbs to darken with lust.
“Evi, are you even listening to me?”
“No. I wasn’t,” I answer truthfully, wishing he would shut up and rip open that shirt, sending all those buttons in different directions and advertising the granite muscles beneath.
He laughs; it’s broad and sincere. “I do admire your honest tongue.”
He would admire my tongue in a more pleasing manner if he just came here. I want to suck him like he’s an ice pop and I’m dehydrating on a hot summer’s night.
“I said you should get some rest. We can pick this up tomorrow.”
Don’t go. Stay and play with me.
“You still haven’t wished me a happy birthday.” I pout, needy and sticky all over with a sheen of sweat caused by lust.
I watch as the screen appears to dull and he shifts in his seat.
“Garret?”
He doesn’t answer.
My gaze lingers on the screen, searching, and then movement causes me to lose my breath.
I watch, mesmerized, as he begins to lower the monitor to his lap.
A thick outline signals his hard cock and my nipples peak and ache for his touch.
My chest seizes and my pussy throbs with need.
He unzips his slacks, slow and torturous, and I can hear my own heart thundering inside my chest.
The pulse between my thighs pumps in unison.
His cock springs free, thick and long, the end a shiny, bulging mushroom head, begging for my lips to taste the clear liquid beading of pre-cum. Wide, paw-like hands wrap neatly around the girth. Leisurely strokes trail the length, gliding over the tip, spreading the juices, and my fingers slip into my panties to ease the ache pounding there.
Rubbing against my needy clit, tingles shoot through my legs, all the way down to my toes.
I’m wet and my hands slip easily through my folds, teasing the swelling, needy hole.
He’s fisting his cock, stroking harder and harder, forcing my fingers to do the same.
A sound of an incoming text message steals my attention for a second, my head swiveling to the offending cell phone on the coffee table.
When I look back to the screen, there’s just a fuzzing of black and white static on the screen. Damn it. We must have lost signal.
Walking over to my cell, I snatch it up, feeling like I could explode. I’m tense all over and the old feeling of shame begins warming my cheeks.
I read the message once and then again.
Happy Birthday, Evi. Get some sleep.
How the hell did he text that while on chat. Dropping the cell, a frustrated sigh leaves my lips. The box from my mom glares at me for attention and I decide it’s time to see inside.