A soppy tongue had licked my cheek, stealing the endless stream of tears. And that was when it happened. The change I’d told Kite about. The ending. The beginning. The freedom of just letting go.
All my life, I’d been stressed with making a name for myself, building my career, loving my brother, being a worthy daughter. Bills. Deadlines. Reputations. Expectations. It all balanced precariously on my shoulders, moulding me into a quiet workaholic.
But at four a.m., in the kennels of the man who meant to kill me, I let it all go.
In every tear I shed, I said goodbye to control. I waved farewell to everything that made me live, but had also suffocated me, too. I didn’t have photo shoots to worry about anymore. I didn’t have concerns on what to wear, where to be, how to act.
All of that had been stolen. And there was no point crying or fighting against it.
The moment I embraced the freedom of nothing, I stopped crying. My headache left, and I drifted to sleep wrapped in the four legs of my new best friend.
Squirrel nudged my hand, bringing me back to the present and the waiting message from Kite. The past struggled to let me go, but I blinked, dispelling my forlornness.
“He wants to know where I am. What should I tell him?” I asked my entourage of hounds.
Foxhounds to be exact. Their black, tan, and white coats became visible as the sun rose, glinting off the glossy health of their fur. Their silky ears slapped their pretty heads as they lopped around the enclosure, waking up as the sun grew brighter.
They didn’t give me an answer.
Needle&Thread: Where I am right now doesn’t matter because I’m in a fantasy with you. I’m in your bed. Naked. Wanting.
It was much better than the truth: I’d slept on hay in a barn with eleven dogs secured by a giant padlock.
I focused on the huge roller door. I’d checked last night to see if there was a way out, but of course, there wasn’t.
Kite007: You took a while to reply. Did you pleasure yourself?
Throwing myself back into Kite’s sexual world, I replied.
Needle&Thread: I’m coming now. Both hands are between my legs, twisting my clit, feeling how wet I am. I’m crying out your name over and over. The neighbours might hear me I’m so loud.
Rubbing the head of Squirrel, I smiled. “Don’t tell him I released my tension by crying myself to sleep with you in my arms.” Lowering my voice, I added, “And don’t tell him I’ve never had an orgasm.”
The dog cocked his head, an expression of confusion on his face.
Kite007: I like it when you talk dirty. Keep going. I have my cock in my hand and want you to make me come.
My heart sped up. Reclining against the hay bale, I bit my lip. I’d never made anyone come. The drunken night of losing my virginity didn’t count because we were both so intoxicated it was a miracle he found the right place to stick it in. After a few half-hearted thrusts, he’d rolled off me to throw up, and I’d pulled up my knickers. I’d been silently horrified at the blood on the sheets.
The copious amounts of alcohol had stolen any pain I might’ve felt when he penetrated me. It’d also stolen the rush of entering womanhood, swapping it with age-old regret.
The night definitely hadn’t been a success. Or the next day. Because no matter how hard V tried to hide my hangover from Tex, he couldn’t prevent me from vomiting on my dad’s shoes when he plucked me from my bed and took me to the doctor.
I groaned in remembered embarrassment. “He found out, you know.” I scratched Squirrel behind his large ear. “The doctor told him I’d been taken advantage of. We’d used protection but it didn’t stop the endless STI tests or pregnancy exams.” Another hound slinked closer, plopping next to me, looking for a scratch. “That was the last time I was alone with a man other than my dad or brother. Sad isn’t it?”
The new dog panted, looking as if I’d told the world’s best joke.
Maybe Tex prevented you from dating, so when they came for you it was only his heart you broke—not a husband or children.
The sudden thought stole my vision with horror.
Was the overprotectiveness to shield others? Had he kept me locked up like some princess in a tower, all to stop me being my mother?
He’d fallen in love with my mother.
They’d had children young.
They’d come for her.
I rubbed my chest, unable to stop the epiphany shedding my father in a new light. Was it selfish of him to protect me from living, knowing I was destined an early grave? Or merely a tragedy that he prevented others enduring heartbreak by loving me.
Vaughn.
He would sense the moment my life was snuffed out. We were linked more than spiritually—but soul-glued and breath-bound. I’d known when he broke his collarbone from kayaking. He’d known when I’d dropped my heavy Singer sewing machine onto my foot.
Linked.
Don’t think about it. It hurt too damn much. Tears pricked my eyes but I blinked them back, trying to remain in my false little bubble of sexting. This was all I had. I could flirt with Kite with complete safety, knowing I would never be able to break his heart when the time came.
In a way, his fastidious request for distance protected him. And for that, I was oddly grateful.
Running a hand through my long hair, I sighed, re-grouping myself. I smiled softly at Squirrel. “If a drunken whoopsy daisy was my only attempt at making a man come, how the hell am I supposed to do it via a faceless message?”
Be someone you’re not. Act. Pretend.
“Fine.”
Swiping at the dirty mixture of hay, dog hair, and dust from the blanket Jethro had given me, I prepared to embrace my inner sex-kitten.
Needle&Thread: Imagine your hand is my hand. I’m holding you firm, tight. I’m kneeling at your feet while you sit on a large chair. A throne. Your hand wraps in my hair, pulling me forward. I obey because I know what you’re asking me to do. Your eyes don’t ask, they tell, and I lower my head into your lap. My mouth waters to taste you. You’re big. Smooth. Begging for my mouth.