I press the button on the wand, and it vibrates in my hand.
Good girl, Ev. Now put it inside you.
It’s Wyatt’s gruff voice in my head encouraging me, making me wetter by the second. I lift my hips and insert the toy into my channel, the buzzing almost too much. I can feel the vibration in my fucking nipples.
Change the setting. You know which one I want you to use.
With my thumb, I press the button three times. The dildo doesn’t just vibrate, now it also thrusts inside me.
“Fuck,” I cry out, losing the battle to keep my eyes open. Not that it matters. Open or closed, it’s all too easy to imagine Wyatt, cock in hand, watching me, that pleased grin spread across his lips as he pumps in time with me.
Touch yourself, sweetheart. Do it now.
As the dildo moves inside me, I use two fingers to circle my clit.
Let’s come together, Ev.
In my very active imagination, I watch Wyatt stroke his cock fast and rough.Make yourself come. Do it now.He grunts as cum shoots from his tip.
That’s all it takes.
I lose it.
I come apart with violent tremors that nearly toss me off the bed. I cry out Wyatt’s name, clawing at the sheets as I picture him pushing off his chair, his cock covered in cum, and stalking my way.
I’m not done with you, Ev.
Shit! Abort!
I yank the vibrating toy out from inside me, turning it off and tossing it away. As though the thing is possessed. It’s one thing to picture my closest guy friend as I bring myself to climax. Wyatt’s fucking hot, and this is just a harmless crush. A crush I’ll soon work out its way out of my system. Then things will finally go back to normal between us. It’s just a means to an end right now, that’s it.
Still, it’s a whole other matter entirely to let that fantasy continue after I’ve achieved my goal. To crave that cum-covered rod inside me like some primal animal.
What the fuck is going on with me?
Because I refuse to ponder what this might all mean, I force myself out of bed to confront the challenge that matters. I turn on the lamp, kneel at the closet, and I pull the rose gold camera case from the corner. I’m determined to overcome my irrational fear while my brain’s too scrambled to process it fully. It’s ridiculous to be afraid of a fucking camera. It’s just an instrument. It didn’t cause any destruction. It’s harmless.
I open the case, feeling overconfident.
It doesn’t last.
The second the Nikon’s in my grasp, my hands start to tremble violently. I force myself to push through it, turning the camera on. “You can do hard things.” But my whispered words wobble as the growing panic builds. I’m frozen there on the floor as an image of a familiar neighborhood pops up on the screen. One that has haunted my nightmares for a year. The houses that once lined Deer Crossing Circle are nothing more than a pile of rubble.
I freeze, unable to breathe.
I can practically feel the death grip of Connie Wilson’s hand on my wrist, the glare of her cold, hard eyes so unsettling it’s painful.
My throat closes, tears dropping down my cheeks as though a water main broke.
I hope it was worth it.The malice—the hatred—in her hazel eyes will haunt me until the day I die.
“Everleigh?” Wyatt’s voice calls out. I search the room, but all I see is the splintered remains of dozens of houses in the cul-de-sac. I spin in a circle, too desperate to find the man calling my name to care that the memory is inaccurate. Ineedhim.
“Ev?” he says again, his voice gentler.
Wyatt wasn’t in Oklahoma that day, but I crave his presence just the same.
I’m desperate for the safety I feel in his arms.
