Fragile by A.K. Evans

Twenty

Demi

Three Weeks Later

“Are you wet?”

I was.

Then again, it wasn’t difficult to be that way when it was Cash on the other end of the line. We’d been doing this for weeks; it had become the norm for us.

Regular phone sex.

This wasn’t ideal, obviously, but it was our only choice. We would have much rather been in each other’s presence, but since that wasn’t an option, this was the next best thing.

And it wasn’t bad at all.

Cash was good at it. Of course, I’d always been fond of his voice when he was talking about anything. When he was talking to me like this, his voice was that much better.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice just a touch over a whisper. “What about you? Are you hard?”

“You know I am,” he returned. “I’m hard every time I think about you, so when I know you’re in your bed touching yourself, that’s definitely not going to be the exception.”

“I wish you were here touching me, Cash,” I rasped.

“Me too, Demi,” he replied. “Put one finger inside your pussy, babe.”

I did as he asked and moaned.

“I want my mouth on your cock, baby,” I told him. I sounded needy, and at that moment, I was. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have given to have him right beside me.

“My cock wants your mouth,” he said. “It’s sick of my hand.”

“Tell me what you’d do to me if I was there right now,” I urged him.

He groaned. “I’d do everything,” he began. “First, I’d kiss that pretty mouth of yours. Then I’d strip you out of your clothes and play with your tits for a bit.”

“Mmm. Would you lick them? Would you put them in your mouth?” I asked.

“Fuck yes,” he confirmed. “I’d suck on one side and use my hand to play with the other. I might even slip my other hand down between your legs. I’d put two fingers inside you and feel how wet you are.”

God, I wanted that. If he wasn’t all the way down in North Carolina, I would have hopped in my car and driven to him.

“What else would you do?” I questioned him.

“I’d kiss that pretty pussy next,” he went on.

Just hearing him say those words, it was like I could feel him doing that to me.

“Baby,” I whispered.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Keep going,” I begged, feeling myself get more and more turned on as I continued to work my finger in and out of my body.

Cash cleared his throat and continued, “I’d start gentle. Light, tender kisses. Then I’d use my tongue and taste you.”

I could hear a mild strain in his voice and smiled. Talking about eating me always got him particularly excited.

“Would you roll to your back so I could sit on your face and lean forward to suck you?” I asked.

“Jesus, fuck, yes,” he groaned. “I’d alternate between sucking on your clit and sliding my tongue inside you while your mouth moved all along my dick.”

“It’s so long and thick and hard, Cash,” I said. “Would I fit all of you in my mouth?”

He didn’t respond immediately, and I knew he was imagining what would happen. “You’d take as much of me as you could,” he finally said. “You’d take me in until I hit the back of your throat, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d be so greedy, baby,” I declared. “I’d take all that I could get. Would you come in my mouth?”

“Maybe. But if I did, I’d have to give myself a short break and have another go at you because I can’t have you in bed with me and not put my cock in your pussy.”

“I’d give anything to have your cock in my pussy right now, Cash,” I moaned. “Anything at all.”

He remained silent, though I could hear his breath quickening.

Feeling myself close and wanting him there with me, I continued, “I’m not sure what position I’d want to be in, but I definitely know I want it hard. I want to feel you pounding into me over and over again, feeling our skin slick with sweat. Maybe you’d be behind me. Would you like that? Would you like to fuck me from behind with my ass in your hands?”

“Fuck, Demi, I’m going to come,” he warned.

“Come with me, Cash,” I begged.

The next thing I knew, we were both moaning as our orgasms tore through us. It was never nearly as powerful or satisfying for me as it was when Cash was the one actually delivering it, but it was still enjoyable. And considering it was something I was enjoying with him, I wasn’t going to complain.

For the next few minutes, we didn’t speak. It was very much like it had been between us when we were together in Cash’s bed. We took the time to allow our breathing to return to normal; though, it never took nearly as long as it did in person.

I was the one who broke this silence this time.

“Tell me something.”

“What do you want to know?” Cash asked.

“Anything,” I answered. “Any random bit of information you want to share with me.”

Just like that we were falling into what had become the norm for us when we talked. Having phone sex, having that level of intimacy was important to both of us, but we also thrived on the rest of it, too. There was more to our conversations than just sex.

Truthfully, as much as I missed Cash and wanted to be wherever he was, there was also a small part of me that was grateful for this time apart. Obviously, I would have liked for it to be a substantially shorter period of time, but what was nice about it was that it gave us the chance to really get to know one another better. We weren’t distracted by physical intimacy when we weren’t in each other’s presence.

And for weeks now, we’d done a lot of talking. Sometimes, the conversations were simple and easy. We’d discuss things like our favorite foods or movies. I’d often share whatever was happening day to day in my life or at the bar. Anytime I booked a new band, I’d tell him about it. Cash would frequently share whatever was going on with the band or any funny things that happened while they were performing.

There were times when our conversations went a bit deeper, though. Cash told me more about his childhood and growing up, and how the band all started. I would sometimes share what things were like for me, both before my father’s infidelity and afterward. When he knew I was going to visit with my mom one Sunday, Cash urged me to call him when I got home. He wanted to know how it went and what she thought about the fact that I was now officially dating someone.

My mom was thrilled to learn about my new relationship with Cash, by the way. She was beyond ecstatic that I’d finally opened my heart up to having this experience, and she loved that I was as happy as I was.

I couldn’t say she was wrong.

Ever since I risked it all and surprised him at his house, I was the happiest I could ever remember being in my life. My father’s infidelity had marked me in a way I didn’t ever think I could recover from. But Cash had been persistent, unwilling to walk away from me because I would be too much work.

And so, even though there were moments of sadness for me over the last three weeks simply because I missed Cash, on the whole, I just felt like I was on cloud nine. Life was better, and I felt utterly blissful.

What took things up a notch for me was a few weeks ago, not long after I returned from Pennsylvania, when Cash asked me for my address. When I asked him why he wanted it, he told me it was a surprise.

I saw no harm in giving him that information—it wasn’t like I didn’t know where he lived. I pressed him for more details about why he wanted it, but Cash refused to give me anything. Days went by, and just at the time when I completely forgot about the fact that I’d given him my address, I checked my mail. There was a postcard inside.

There was nothing particularly grand about any of the sentiments written on the card, but it was the idea that he’d taken the time to think of me, buy the card, and send it off to surprise me. With each new city he got to, he sent a new postcard. I had a stack of them now, and every time I looked at them, they made me smile.

Cash was doing everything to make me feel reassured in what we were building together. I appreciated his efforts and felt my heart softening even more toward this incredible man.

And every time we were on the phone and he shared something personal with me, I got more of that reassurance.

I never had to ask for it either. Sometimes he gave me the deep conversation; sometimes he gave me simple and easy.

I had no idea what I’d get now.

Cash was quiet a moment while, I’m assuming, he thought of what he wanted to share. When he finally spoke, I certainly hadn’t expected to hear what he gave me.

“So, remember how I told you that I don’t typically work on new material while we’re touring?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed, thinking it was crazy that he thought I’d ever forget anything he said to me.

“Right. Well, at the time I told you, it was the truth,” he began. “It’s no longer the truth.”

“Does that… are you saying—”

Cash cut me off and shared, “I’m saying that I’ve been feeling very inspired lately, so whenever there’s time that I’m not on stage, talking to you, eating, or sleeping, I’m writing new music. And I finished the song I’d been working on when you were at my house with me.”

I smiled.

“I would ask you to sing it now, but I think I’d rather hear it in person,” I told him. “Will you sing it for me when you finish the tour?”

“Absolutely.”

My smile grew huge. I was going to get a preview of new My Violent Heart material.

“But you need to prepare yourself,” he warned.

Suddenly, I sat up straighter, and the smile was wiped from my face. “Why?” I asked hesitantly. “For what?”

“A few of these songs will be unlike anything you’ve heard from us,” he explained.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

There was a brief pause before Cash answered, “For the fans, it could be either. Any deviation from the expectation is bound to be met with some criticism. But I’ve never felt more sure about any material that we’ve released as I do about this. I haven’t shared any of it with the rest of the band, but I think this one song has the potential to be one of our best if it’s got all the right instruments behind it. Bass, drums, and lots of synthesizer. It’s going to feel reminiscent of classic My Violent Heart material, but it’s going to have a sexier vibe.”

That sounded incredible. “I can’t wait to hear it,” I told him.

“I can’t wait for you to hear it,” he returned. “Oh, shit, hang on a second.”

“Okay.”

I heard some rustling around before I heard what I thought was Beck’s voice. “Hey, man, sorry to interrupt your call. I was just going to see if you were up for some food? I needed to talk. We can do it later.”

“No, no,” Cash insisted. “Come in. Just give me a minute.”

I heard a door close before Cash said, “Demi, I’m sorry to—”

“It’s okay,” I insisted, cutting him off. “He sounds like he’s got something on his mind.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll reach out later today, okay?”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

With that, Cash and I disconnected. I hoped everything was alright with Beck. I didn’t expect Cash would share any of Beck’s personal issues with me, but I had no doubt he’d at least confirm that everything was okay once he knew that it was.

And for me, I was simply happy that I was starting my day off on the right foot. Then again, I’d been doing that every morning since Cash came into my life.

It seemed impossible that things could ever get better than they were right now.

I wasn’t wrong.

Things getting better wasn’t possible.

What was possible was things getting worse.

Something happened. I didn’t know what it was, but there had been a profound change. A bad one. Something that just didn’t feel right.

About a week after the call I had with Cash when Beck interrupted us, I noticed the change. I was relatively certain it had nothing to do with Beck because Cash had confirmed for me later that same day that all was good. And for the next few days, everything was as it had always been between us.

So, I had no reason to believe there was anything wrong there.

But there was still something wrong.

For the last two weeks, Cash had been different with me. We still had our morning phone calls; though, there had been two instances when I called and Cash hadn’t answered. He never missed my calls. On both occasions, he did call me back, but he didn’t offer an explanation as to why he hadn’t answered.

I tried not to think too much about that because it wasn’t as though he’d made me wait hours to hear back from him. No more than ten minutes had passed when he returned my call.

It wasn’t just that, though.

While we still talked with the same frequency, the conversations were different. Cash seemed distracted, less interested. Phone sex had dwindled.

I was terrified to think what that meant. Cash enjoyed sex. He enjoyed phone sex. The fact was that he wasn’t nearly as interested in that nor was he as playful as he had been with me from the beginning, I couldn’t help worrying.

The other problem was that he wasn’t talking to me. Yes, we spoke on the phone still, but he wasn’t sharing whatever was on his mind. Everything was very much focused on facts, not feelings. He’d tell me whatever was happening that day, where they were traveling to, or what time they were heading to the venue.

And finally, one of the things that had really made me think about the state of my relationship with Cash was the postcards. I’d gone from receiving one just about every other day to only once or twice a week.

I didn’t understand what happened.

I even tried coming right out with it and asking him about a week ago.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I just have a few things on my mind that I’m working through right now,” he said. “But I’m okay.”

I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to that. Should I have just called him out for being a liar? He was telling me everything was fine. Even though I knew it wasn’t, I couldn’t exactly force it out of him.

I wanted to believe he had just had a bad day or two, something we all experienced, but when his mood never turned around, I could no longer ignore it.

So, I thought about it.

The only thing that I could think was that perhaps Cash was simply frustrated with the distance between us. We’d been talking on the phone every day, but it wasn’t the same as being close enough to touch.

Maybe he needed that.

I knew I did.

For the last couple of days, I thought about it and came to a decision. I was going to fly to Cash and meet him at his next location. We’d be in Florida, and they were scheduled to play two shows there with a day off in between. Maybe we could spend that day together getting ourselves back on track.

But because I’d already done the whole surprise thing with just showing up somewhere, I thought it might be better to call him ahead of time. I mean, perhaps the sooner he knew that he’d be able to see me, touch me, hold me, and kiss me, the better his mood would be.

Cash and the rest of the band were currently in Texas. They’d had a show last night, and from what Cash told me, they were going to be flying out later tonight to head to Florida.

I couldn’t wait to tell him my plan. It was earlier than I’d usually call him, but I didn’t think he’d mind, considering the news I had to share.

And because I wanted to see his face when I told him I was coming to see him, I decided on a video chat.

I tapped the button on my screen to call him, and that was the last moment of peace I had.

Two rings later, I felt sick to my stomach.

My face met that of a woman, and it was clear to see she was in a bed. Staring at her, feeling my heart pound wildly in my chest, I asked, “Where’s Cash?”

“Oh, he’s in the shower right now,” the woman answered.

“Who are you?” I pressed.

“I’m one of the bands biggest fans,” she told me. “I came back here last night.”

I was going to be sick. I didn’t want to believe this. How could he do this to me?

When I didn’t respond, the woman sat up in the bed, and I belatedly noticed she was only wearing a bra on her top half.

Oh God.

Oh God.

She started walking, and I should have disconnected the call. I’d already seen enough. But something kept my eyes riveted to the screen. Something made me continue clutching my phone in my hand.

She eventually stopped moving outside a closed door. Her face filled half of the screen while the door filled the other. The woman knocked on the door, and I heard him.

“Be out in a minute.”

I didn’t know why I thought that this woman was lying. I didn’t know why I thought he wouldn’t be the one to respond.

I was stupid, obviously.

That was the only explanation.

A moment later, my whole world came crashing down when the door opened and the devastatingly handsome man that I’d fallen in love with stood there in a towel, fresh out of the shower. We locked eyes for only a moment, his going wide with surprise, before I disconnected the call, threw my phone down, and ran into the bathroom.