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She walked into the living room and picked up her phone. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she contemplated what she was about to do. A wave of electricity sizzled through her belly as she started typing:
You have corrupted this fragile thing and brought out a writhing, mewling, bucking, wanton whore for your enjoyment and pleasure… Hurry, your whore awaits :)
Taking a fortifying sip of wine, she pressed send. The reply came an excruciatingly long two minutes later:
Thanks for that. I just lost a very lucrative hand. If you think adding a smiley face to a paraphrased Sade quote is going to make me go easy on you for getting me so fucking hard I can’t get up, think again.
She grinned and typed again:
Please show this newly deflowered sexter a little mercy.
My mercy isn’t little, baby. It’s a huge, hungry motherfucker. You poked it. You get to appease it.
About to respond, she jumped when her phone rang. Only it wasn’t her mobile, but her intercom. Frowning, she crossed to the coffee table and picked up the receiver.
“Hi there, Miss Michaels. It’s Alex from the concierge desk downstairs? I called earlier about your packages but there was no response, so I thought I’d double-check that you got them?”
“Oh… umm, yes.” She grimaced. She’d totally forgotten about her deliveries. “I got them, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. We’ve had another delivery. If you’re available now, I can bring it up?”
She reluctantly closed her texts and dropped her phone on the table. “Sure, thanks.”
Hanging up, she went to the door and brought in the three packages. Opening up the first one, she stopped to sniff the expensive gel and lotion she’d had specially made from her favorite bespoke perfumery in Palm Beach. She was putting away the mood-enhancing candles in her bathroom closet when she heard the knock.
She opened the door and gestured to the coffee table. “Thanks, Alex. Can you put it on there?”
He nodded eagerly. He was about her age, decent looking, and she’d seen him check her out a couple of times. In another lifetime, she probably would’ve found him interesting enough to date.
But in this lifetime, she belonged to one man only.
Alex turned. “Do you need a hand with anything else?” he asked.
Leia eyed the large square box, wracking her brain to recall what else she’d ordered besides the bath stuff. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Alex let himself out, and she walked to the package. It was a large brown box, sturdy enough to indicate whatever it contained was heavy. It was double-sealed with industrial-strength tape, and she would need a knife to open it. Grabbing one from the kitchen, she slid the blade under the lid, worked her way round and lifted it.
Horror engulfed her. The knife clattered to the floor as a scream gurgled in her throat, choking its way up before ripping through the air.
The three dolls were grotesquely life-like. But while the bodies were those of newborns, the heads were large and full-grown. And all three faces were as familiar to her as the nose on her face.
Shaking, Leia lurched to where she’d dropped her phone. A sob broke out as her fingers missed the dial button. Dashing her hand across her eyes to clear her vision, she tried again.
Noah’s phone rang four times before he answered it. “Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how tough it is to walk with this hard?—”
“Noah…” Her voice emerged a ragged croak.
“What the hell’s wrong?” he snapped.
“Some… something arrived… A delivery.” She shut her eyes as she caught the box from the corner of her eye. “Please, Noah… I need you.” Another shudder ripped through her. She curled her body into a ball and wrapped her free arm around her knees.
“Stay on the phone, baby. I’ll be right there.” Chairs scrapedhardwood floors. Pounding feet accompanied gruff male voices. Her heart hammered and her body shook as sobs rocked her.
“Ten seconds, baby. Hold on.” Noah’s voice was taut with anxiety.
A heartbeat later, the door slammed open and she was engulfed in strong arms. Phone slipping out of her hand, she threw her arms around his neck as he scooped her up.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded.