Page 18 of The Sugar Maple Inn

WildTrailGuide: Hell no.

AutumnDreams87: But you said—

WildTrailGuide: I’m in control. STOP.

A pause. Then:

AutumnDreams87: I’ve stopped, you bastard.

He smiled.

WildTrailGuide: Count with me. Three…two…one…

AutumnDreams87: Three…two…one…

WildTrailGuide: Good girl.

AutumnDreams87: Not been called a good girl since I behaved for once after my Girl Scout leader told me I was “too opinionated” for badge duty.

WildTrailGuide: Talking about Girl Scouts isn’t helping here. You wanna start again?

AutumnDreams87: Nope.

WildTrailGuide: Right answer. Now continue. Faster. Circling. Applying pressure.

He drove himself to match his own words, every nerve strung tight. Suddenly, unbidden, he got an image of Grace lying there, doing just what he was instructing AutumnDreams87 to do.

WildTrailGuide: Talk to me. How you feeling?

AutumnDreams87: …oh God—nearly there.

WildTrailGuide: You don’t come until I give the order.

AutumnDreams87: Please.

WildTrailGuide: Insert your fingers now. Imagine it’s me. You doing that?

AutumnDreams87: Yep.

Reese’s grip tightened on the phone, stroking himself with his other.

WildTrailGuide: Slow down again. I want to picture it. How many fingers?

AutumnDreams87: Two. God.

He groaned under his breath.

WildTrailGuide: Bet you can take more. I have big fingers. Insert another finger. You doing that?

The dots blinked hard, fast.

AutumnDreams87: Yeah.

WildTrailGuide: Faster. Deeper. How’d that feel?

Her reply was a mess of letters at first, then—

Seven