intense waves.
It was only as the pleasure dissipated that I felt the terrible burn in my limbs. I'd really done a number on myself fighting the restraints.
I collapsed in a tired heap. Ethan wasn't far behind, but he held himself up, sliding off the bed and wandering across the room for a wipe to clean me up.
“Did you really mean what you said?” I asked. My wrists flexed happily as soon as he freed my hands.
“I'm not the kinda guy who says what he doesn't mean. One of these days, I will get you pregnant Cat. You're not the only one who's itching for a baby in these parts. Good women are hard to find out here in the country. And beautiful, perfect women – well, that's another story altogether.”
Outside, the humid morning air reminded me of his kiss. The long walk had drenched my jeans and panties in sticky wetness, and not just from my body desperately cooling itself.
I remembered our sex, how close we'd come to making what any normal person would've thought was a terrible mistake. But to me, in that moment, I wanted his baby more than anything in the world.
It was right to me. I didn't care what the rest of the world thought.
I steeled myself as I rounded the spot near Pa's memorial. The silvery cross had sunken sadly into the moist soil.
My heart grew heavy, and I moved quickly toward it, intending to straighten things up. But as I got closer, I soon noticed it wasn't just the cross that was out of place.
A bleached white object with a tiny hat sat beneath the sunken cross. My stomach did a loop, and I bent myself to catch my knees when I was only a couple feet away.
There was no mistaking it. Someone had thrown the heavy skull of a cow near his grave, and capped it with a miniature straw hat – the very same shape and color he used to wear.
I turned into the weeds near the side of the road and heaved.
I didn't lose my breakfast, but I came dangerously close. Thank God for small favors.
What the hell is going on here? What kind of savage fucking lunatic would do something like this?
My nausea waned, replaced by seething anger. I aimed my boot and kicked the skull as hard as I could.
The new boots were thick enough to block out any pain, but I felt the harsh recoil through my leather.
The big mass of bone rolled a few inches, tipping its hat to the ground.
“Pa...God, I'm so sorry.”
My hands dove into the mud. I felt for the base of the cross and struggled to get a grip. Finally, it began to rise, catching the faint sunlight straining its way through the clouds.
When it had grown several inches, I stood, satisfied for now. The skull – the warning? – lay halfway on its side.
Sighing, I picked it up, despising the leaden weight in my hands. I retreated to the house and dropped it in the garbage can outside.
Back in the kitchen, using pumice soap to strip the dirt off my hands, my knees buckled. I grabbed for a towel to dry my hands, but ended up using it to blot away the uncomfortable sweat pouring off my throbbing head.
I barely made it over to a chair near the table before I collapsed. It was like some evil spirit had sucked all my energy, leaving me a walking shell of a woman.
Shell shocked, I thought, recalling the term from a European history class I'd taken to satisfy an arts requirement in college.
Widespread panic attacks among soldiers in the First World War had made psychologists sit up and take notice for the first time.
It's okay. You need to breathe.
It took nearly a full half hour before I could rise again. When I was on my feet, I leaned across the table, reaching for the phone.
I started to dial the police, but stopped halfway through. Lips tense, I slammed it back into its place, only to pick it up again several seconds later.
The man I needed to deal with this didn't wear a uniform or keep regular hours. Ethan answered after about ten rings. I smiled, knowing he was probably sleeping in a little after our long night together.
“Ethan, it's me,” I said, the
It was only as the pleasure dissipated that I felt the terrible burn in my limbs. I'd really done a number on myself fighting the restraints.
I collapsed in a tired heap. Ethan wasn't far behind, but he held himself up, sliding off the bed and wandering across the room for a wipe to clean me up.
“Did you really mean what you said?” I asked. My wrists flexed happily as soon as he freed my hands.
“I'm not the kinda guy who says what he doesn't mean. One of these days, I will get you pregnant Cat. You're not the only one who's itching for a baby in these parts. Good women are hard to find out here in the country. And beautiful, perfect women – well, that's another story altogether.”
Outside, the humid morning air reminded me of his kiss. The long walk had drenched my jeans and panties in sticky wetness, and not just from my body desperately cooling itself.
I remembered our sex, how close we'd come to making what any normal person would've thought was a terrible mistake. But to me, in that moment, I wanted his baby more than anything in the world.
It was right to me. I didn't care what the rest of the world thought.
I steeled myself as I rounded the spot near Pa's memorial. The silvery cross had sunken sadly into the moist soil.
My heart grew heavy, and I moved quickly toward it, intending to straighten things up. But as I got closer, I soon noticed it wasn't just the cross that was out of place.
A bleached white object with a tiny hat sat beneath the sunken cross. My stomach did a loop, and I bent myself to catch my knees when I was only a couple feet away.
There was no mistaking it. Someone had thrown the heavy skull of a cow near his grave, and capped it with a miniature straw hat – the very same shape and color he used to wear.
I turned into the weeds near the side of the road and heaved.
I didn't lose my breakfast, but I came dangerously close. Thank God for small favors.
What the hell is going on here? What kind of savage fucking lunatic would do something like this?
My nausea waned, replaced by seething anger. I aimed my boot and kicked the skull as hard as I could.
The new boots were thick enough to block out any pain, but I felt the harsh recoil through my leather.
The big mass of bone rolled a few inches, tipping its hat to the ground.
“Pa...God, I'm so sorry.”
My hands dove into the mud. I felt for the base of the cross and struggled to get a grip. Finally, it began to rise, catching the faint sunlight straining its way through the clouds.
When it had grown several inches, I stood, satisfied for now. The skull – the warning? – lay halfway on its side.
Sighing, I picked it up, despising the leaden weight in my hands. I retreated to the house and dropped it in the garbage can outside.
Back in the kitchen, using pumice soap to strip the dirt off my hands, my knees buckled. I grabbed for a towel to dry my hands, but ended up using it to blot away the uncomfortable sweat pouring off my throbbing head.
I barely made it over to a chair near the table before I collapsed. It was like some evil spirit had sucked all my energy, leaving me a walking shell of a woman.
Shell shocked, I thought, recalling the term from a European history class I'd taken to satisfy an arts requirement in college.
Widespread panic attacks among soldiers in the First World War had made psychologists sit up and take notice for the first time.
It's okay. You need to breathe.
It took nearly a full half hour before I could rise again. When I was on my feet, I leaned across the table, reaching for the phone.
I started to dial the police, but stopped halfway through. Lips tense, I slammed it back into its place, only to pick it up again several seconds later.
The man I needed to deal with this didn't wear a uniform or keep regular hours. Ethan answered after about ten rings. I smiled, knowing he was probably sleeping in a little after our long night together.
“Ethan, it's me,” I said, the
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