Page 16 of Text Me, Take Me

“This is wrong,”I imagine her moaning.“But it feels so right.”

I gasp, clawing my free hand against my chest as if it were hers, and pump my hand so fast that my dick feels like it’s on fire because her tight pussy feels like it’s wrapped around me, coaxing my release. “Fuck,” I roar, the only time I can remember actually talking while jacking myself off. The fantasy is so vivid.

A hot steam of come erupts from my end, gushing out of me in what feels like an endless wave. I collapse against the wall of the shower, trembling as more and more seed escapes me.

Finally, I open my eyes, staring at the shower wall.

Guilt grips me.

I wash myself and then sit on my bed in my towel, the burner cellphone in my hand, feeling like a lovestruck teenager as Idebate texting her again. But her last message is impossible to ignore.

She wants me to leave her alone… she claims.

It’s my responsibility to back off. I’m older. I’m richer. The power is mine here.

I throw the cellphone to the other side of the bed.

CHAPTER 6

EVIE

When evening arrives, the interactive ‘windows’ turn to nighttime scenes, and the lights automatically dim. I sit in bed with the jail broken cellphone in my hand, Meatball seeming restless because I am.

Every time I check the phone, Meatball looks at me accusatorially.

“I know I said I wanted him to leave me alone, but it’s been hours…and not even a single text? How am I supposed to seduce him – totrickhim – if he ghosts me?”

Meatball yawns. He’s not buying the ‘trick him’ angle at all. The way I see it, that’s my best shot to get upstairs and find a phone, call the cops, tell them some devastatingly handsome billionaire is keeping me prisoner and making me confront feelings I shouldn’t be having.

“Let’s say I gave into these feelings, then what? Do you seriously think I could have a future with a man who started as my kidnapper? It’s doomed… but that doesn’t mean we have to accept this situation.”

When I speak with Meatball, I sometimes entertain the more unlikely aspects of my life: a dream jewelry business, becoming rich… and now, an impossible relationship. It doesn’t mean I actually think anything could happen.

I almost drop the phone when three dots appear on the screen. He’s typing a message. I hold my breath… and then let it out when no message appears and the three dots disappear.

That means he typed something, then deleted it.

It’s almost midnight. Maybe he can’t sleep. Or maybe he’s already slept, but he woke after dreaming about me. Traitor tingles attack my body when I imagine him obsessing over me.

Losing my cool, I shoot off a text.

Evie: If you’ve got something to say, say it.

Dom: Excuse me, Evie?

Evie: You keep typing and then deleting a message. I can see the dots on my phone. YOUR phone.

Dom: That would imply you’re staring at the text thread, waiting for me to message you.

“He thinks I’m staring at the phone because I want him. He’s so deluded. It’s because I need todo something. I need a plan. A way out.”

Meatball looks like he’s tiring of my delusional justifications.

When I don’t reply, he sends another message.

Dom: I checked on your apartment. I saw your workbench. You’ve got serious talent, Evie. Those pieces were exceptional.

I love the compliment, but I can’t let him mess with my head.

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