Page 49 of Entangled
“Do it harder,” I growl.
She slams it inside and whimpers. “Oh, God…”
“Don’t fucking stop.” I squeeze my dick, roughly stroking it up and down to mimic her movements. My legs are shaking, I’m clenching every muscle in my body, and I can’t rip my eyes from the screen. Watching the gold length disappear inside her, bottoming out with every thrust, I’m no longer a man. I’m a goddamn animal. “Fuck that pussy, baby. Fuck it hard.”
“Oh,Henry.”
My eyelids flutter with the way she says my name. “I’m here, Princess.”
“I’m already close.”
“Me too. Turn it on.”
“I love when you’re bossy.” She twists the base, and a low hum reaches my ears. Her moans get louder.
“Put it on the highest setting.”
“I don’t know if I can handle—”
“Do it.”
She turns it up all the way. “Oh, Henry, fuck!” Hips bucking, thighs trembling, she moans and wails her pleasure. “I’m gonna come.”
Watching her wet pussy spasm around the toy, I stroke my cock like a madman. Because that’s what I am now. Feral and unhinged. She has me so lust-crazed, there’s not an ounce of sanity left. When I finally can’t hold back any longer, I follow her over the edge.
“Rowan, baby, fuck!” The guttural bellow comes from my toes as my dick jerks and spurts. My release hits my stomach, but I don’t give a fuck. The orgasm was otherworldly.
Rowan is a sex goddess.
“That was intense,” she says, gasping.
I grunt because I can’t currently form words. Intense doesn’t begin to describe it. I’ve never experienced anything like what we just did. Ever. It blew my mind to feel so connected with someone who wasn’t even in the same room. Rowan can share her brand of interactive fantasy with me anytime. I thought she captivated me before. Well, now I’m fucking obsessed.
Her flushed face appears on the phone’s screen. “You good?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t usually show my face during calls.”
The elation racing through my body grinds to a screeching halt. She doesn’t “usually” show her face. Right. I’m a fucking idiot. This was just another performance for her. Part of the routine. I’m not special—I’m just another cock in cyberspace. The pain of the realization makes it hard to breathe. The connection I felt—down to my fucking soul—was fraudulent.
My chest feels hollow, and I need a drink.
“I gotta go.” I disconnect the call and toss my phone onto the nightstand.
Maybe if I stare at the ceiling for long enough, I’ll be able to hold it together. Now that I’m alone in my silent room, I remember how easy it is to crumble.
22
ROWAN
Mood Music: “Kiss Me” (guitar version) by Dermot Kennedy
The portraitI’m painting is coming together nicely. Good thing, since the other stuff I worked on today was a hot mess. Eugene got into my yarn this morning, and I still haven’t untangled it all. Then I spilled a container of teeny tiny seed beads, which fell into the cracks of my hardwood floor—ten minutes after I cleaned up the broken shit from last night.
Thanks to the chaos, I managed to distract myself from thoughts of Henry. Mostly. Who am I kidding? I’ve been moping all day. I can’t believe he ended our call so abruptly. Here I thought I was doing something special. Even virtually, I felt the connection between us, but I guess I imagined it. I tried to shrug off the hurt but failed miserably. That’s twice now I’ve cried myself to sleep over him.
My phone rings from where I have it propped on my easel. It’s my father.
