I did not touch myself.
That was the whole night. Door open. Toy on the nightstand, shiny side up, my slick dried on the head in a dull film. T-shirt still around my ribs because pulling it down felt like lying. My c**t throbbed in stupid little beats every time the house made a sound. I slept in pieces. I woke wet. I clenched on nothing and hated that he had been right.
Morning came pale through the street window. I heard him on the stairs before I saw him. Coffee somewhere below. Then the doorway filled again.
Cole stood there with a mug in one hand like this was ordinary. Black shirt. Same eyes. He looked at the toy first. Then at my thighs, at the dark patch I had left on his guest sheet, at my face.
“You listened.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what.”
The word sat in my mouth like something I ha
