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"If you love me, truly love me, you'll leave me alone."
Those words would be carved on her tombstone. Poor Simon. She'd given him little choice. Expecting him to come storming after her and sweep her into a crushing embrace was fantasy. He truly loved her. He left her alone, while her heart and body ached from the loss.
Emily thought of going to him, telling him she'd made a horrible mistake. Each time she stopped herself, fearful of what she might see in his eyes--hate where love once reigned. So she took her deepest fantasies to bed with her at night. In the darkness she could pretend Simon still loved her, still couldn't wait to bury his face between her legs, still clutched her tight as that impressive cock slammed into her. She'd tweak her nipples, pretending it was his fingers that pulled them to life. She'd jam the vibrator deep, imagining his penis thrusting hard and fast. And in the dying embers of her orgasm, she'd curl into a ball and weep at all she'd cost herself.
She glanced at the crates around her, knowing in her heart this was Simon's doing. Did it mean he still cared? Was he reaching out to her through someone else? Or was he simply fulfilling a promise? Emily didn't know what to think or guess.
Answers. I need answers. I need guidance ... a sign.
She let the tears drift down her cheeks as she stripped off the cotton gloves. "You tried to help me once before," she whispered to the idol. "You did help me. I'm the one who ruined it all." She scooped it into her hands, caressing her thumbs against the ancient curves carved there. "Help me again, please. I swear I won't screw it up this time."
The sound of soft footsteps pulledher head toward the door. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Her heartbeat nearly drowned out her thoughts. She clutched the idol harder, praying she wasn't seeing things, afraid to move for fear the illusion would dissolve.
"Simon?" her voice squeaked out.