Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
As the image of her fucking herself on my cock plays out in my mind, I stroke myself faster and faster, my grip growing tighter. I imagine my hand is her cunt, squeezing me so tight and perfect, like only she can, taking my cum and thanking me after.
“Fuck,” I hiss through my teeth, the pleasure in my balls reaching a new high.
“Fuck me, Quinton. Take me harder. Come inside me.”
I can practically hear her saying the words, and it’s enough to make me explode. Like a teenage boy, cum spurts from my cock and onto my stomach. I let out a sigh, releasing my cock, and open my eyes. I reach for the tissue box on my nightstand and clean myself up.
It’s then that Aspen’s phone rings, drawing my attention back to the screen. The sound startles her. She pushes herself up quickly and reaches for her phone. As soon as she looks at the screen, her eyes go wide, and I wonder if her mother finally called.
My guess is proven wrong when Aspen answers the call and starts speaking. “Dad?”
“Hey, sweetie,” a man’s voice meets my ear.
“Dad, the school has been trying to reach you and Mom—”
“I know. I’m sorry, Aspen. They just told me what happened, and I haven’t heard from your mom either.” I can’t see him on the small phone screen, but I can hear him take a deep exaggerated breath. “I knew he would try to get to you. It’s not enough for him that I’m in here.”
“Who? They said the helicopter had technical issues.”
“Don’t be naïve, Aspen. Xander tried to kill you. I know it was him.”
I grind my teeth together, wanting to forget that my father had anything to do with this. Unfortunately, I know Aspen’s father is right. My father was the one who made Ren do it.
“You need to use what I told you against him. Tell Quinton that it was his father. That’s gonna rattle them.” I lean closer to the computer screen at the mention of my name. “Hell, maybe Quinton is gonna take out Xander himself for what he did. You’d be a whole lot safer then.”
“I can’t… I can’t tell, Quinton.”
What the hell are they talking about?
Their words run through my mind, but they don’t make sense. It’s like a puzzle with a few pieces missing.
“He is the one who saved me, you know? Quinton came for me when no one else did. How can I possibly tell him what his father did to his mom? It would break him.”
Everything stops. The world around me stills, my vision blurs, and all I can hear is the soft echo of Aspen’s voice… what his father did to his mom.
The last piece falls into place, completing the puzzle I’ve been trying to solve for months.
My father killed my birth mother.
The statement runs through my mind, but they are just words, a string of letters that make little sense right now. It can’t be true.
My father killed my birth mother.
I test out the words again, but I still can’t grasp their meaning. My lungs burn, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Sucking in a deep breath, the room suddenly spins, and bile rises in my throat.
My father killed my birth mother.
Slowly, like a dripping faucet filling up a sink, the gravity of what I just found out sets in. Because of him, I’ll never know my birth mother. Not only did he take her from me, but he also tried to cover it up and erase her, like she never existed at all.
Images of my father ripping me from a faceless woman’s arms fill my head. Did she cry, beg, and fight for me? Was I there while he did it, crying for her? Did he make me watch?
Fucking Christ. I shut the laptop so forcefully I’m sure I crack the screen. A million questions, but not a single answer. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the longer strands as hard as I can without pulling it from my scalp. The pain doesn’t even register. I’m numb. Overwhelmed. So many emotions run rampant that I can’t feel a single one.
How could he do this to me?
I don’t understand how anyone could do this to their child, but I know that I have to ask him face to face. I need answers.
On autopilot, I get up from my desk and walk across my room. I grab my bag from the bottom of my closet and start stuffing essentials in it. I grab my jacket and slip into my boots on the way out of my room. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I head straight for the door, walking past Ren without even noticing him.
“Where the hell are you going?”
I stop and turn toward him just as he is getting up from the couch.