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Turning to face my dad, I smile and nod. “Yeah, Daddy. Working hard. It’s a busy job, but I love it. How are you? Doing any gardening lately?” Gardening is something my dad used to love, but as far as I know, hasn’t done it in months. He still loves to talk about his plants, though.
He chuckles, slapping his hand on his knee. “Sure am. Those petunias won’t get away from me this year. They’re comin’ in great. Not as good as the marigolds, though. Those suckers are taking over half the fuckin’ yard.”
A burst of laughter escapes me. This is the man who taught me everything he knows, including my extensive dictionary of swear words. We spend the next few hours catching up over lunch, and surprisingly, it goes without incident. I consider talking to him about the Snow case and asking for advice, but I try to keep everything neutral. I want more than anything to tell him about Wolfe. Fuck, I want him to meet Wolfe, but…it’s not time. Not yet.
My dad stays lucid our entire visit, for the most part. He forgets a fair amount of words and dates, occasionally mixing up the day or time, but all and all, he was him. My dad. My best friend. The one who took me to buy pads and my first bra. The one who held me when I got dumped for the first, second, and third time. The one who gave up everything for me…
“Don’t wait so long to come around again next time,” Urma chides as she walks me to the door. I smile and nod, hugging her goodbye. I take one last look at my dad and find him standing in front of a picture of him and my mom with a sad look on his face.
My heart breaks for him. He loved my mom dearly, and losing her devastated him. I always thought that he’d finally get back out there once I was grown and left the house. That’s one of the reasons I worked so hard to get good grades and into college. I knew if I left, he’d have his life back. Little did I know it would be stolen from him again so quickly.
Chapter Nineteen
Ididn’tactuallyhaveto go anywhere, but I did have to work. Luckily, I’ve set up a second office space in my new apartment where I can work remotely if need be. I spent the better part of two days getting lost in menial jobs for no other reason than to give Ray some space. It killed me. Legit drove me insane. But I knew it was important.
Rayvn isn’t as insane for me as I am for her. Not yet, at least. She needs time to process, time to miss me. She likes her solitude. Quiet evenings in her apartment with her crime shows and what I’ve now learned is knitting and needlepoint. She needs time to decompress. From how closely I’ve observed her these past few months, I think she actually uses that time to disassociate, whether she’s aware of it or not. I don’t blame her. I hate people too. Except her. And Kat. Everyone else can fuck right off, for all I care.
After the fuck up of me getting sidetracked and not responding to the request for a picture of me, I made it up to her by FaceTiming her while naked and stroking my cock. I kept my face from the shot but let her see every inch of my body while encouraging her to show me her pretty pussy. And fuck, did she ever. That was one of the hottest experiences of my life. My Little Fox is a dirty little slut for me. She’s perfect. So fucking perfect.
Every day, I fall deeper and deeper down the hole that is Rayvn Porter.
My obsession is quickly developing into something else. Something more potent and firey. I know what it is…at least, I think I do. But I’m not ready to put a name to it. More than that—she’snot ready for me to put a name to it.
Today, I mailed her a gift. To her work. A claiming, if you will. It should be arriving any minute. I eagerly watch the camera feed in her office on one screen as I work on the other. She’s been in a staff meeting for the last few hours, and it royally pisses me off that I didn’t have the foresight to bug the entire building. I will eventually. Better yet, I’ll convince her to work from home. Her new home. When I move her in with me. If she doesn’t like my house in New Mexico and decides she wants to stay here, then I’ll buy her a new one. Or, we can share her apartment, I don’t really give a fuck where we live, as long as she’s coming home to me every night.Soon.
“Ms. Porter, a package was just delivered for you,” a kind voice rings through my speakers and a wide grin splits over my face.
Showtime.
Rayvn smiles at the woman, who I believe is named Carly and accepts the large, wrapped gift. Her eyes widen as notices the name on the gift tag and she quickly ushers the woman out before locking the door. A nervous energy begins to fill my body, one limb at a time. What if she doesn’t like it? This is new for me. I’ve never given one of my paintings to someone before, not like this. Is it good enough? Will she find it repulsive? Will she know what it is?
“Holy shit,” she gasps, tossing the paper onto the floor in a balled-up heap.
She stands the 18x24 painting up on her desk so she can fully take in the image. I have a perfect shot of her face and I find myself leaning in so close I’m practically licking my computer screen. Brows furrowed, her head tilts from side to side in discovery and observation. My nerves ramp up to a painfully uncomfortable level as regret begins to seep in.
Finally, after what feels like forever, she flips it over, realizing the thing was upside down, and immediately screeches. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
She gently sets the painting down on her desk and picks up her phone. Seconds later, mine is ringing. I debate not answering. I’m not even sure what I’ll say or how I’ll say it with my heart jammed in my fucking esophagus. Groaning, I accept the call, placing it on speaker so I can continue to watch her as she paces the length of her office.
“Hello, Sweetling,” I murmur. My tongue swipes my dry bottom lip, and I have the worst case of cotton mouth despite how utterly sober I am. “How are you?”
“Did you paint my pussy?” she whisper-shouts. I grin into my fist, barely containing a bark of laughter. “Did you paint my,” she clears her throat before whispering, “mybloodypussy?”
I have to say, I’m extremely impressed she can tell what the abstract painting is, especially considering the entire thing was painted in various shades of red. Her blood diluted with my cum. It took days. And a lot of paint thinner. And a heavy topcoat of lacquer to preserve it. But it’s one of my best and most prized pieces yet.
“Yes,” I say simply. “Do you like it, Little Fox?”
She exhales a shaky breath before walking over to her desk. I watch with rapt attention as she stares down at the painting. She makes a choked sound but tries to cover it with a cough. My brows furrow. Did I upset her? She leans forward, tracing her fingers over the delicate edges reverently. Unlike my usual acrylic works, this painting is smooth. The medium was difficult to work with, almost like watercolor, due to how thin it was. But it came out beautifully.
“It’s incredible, Wolfe,” she breathes. On camera, I watch as she swipes tears from her eyes. My heart clenches painfully. She’s crying?
I clear my throat, wanting to make sure I didn’t fuck this up. “You really like it?”
“I love y—it,” she sucks in a breath.Did she just almost? No, surely not.“I love it. It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever given me. I mean, I can’t hang it in my office, but,” she chuckles. “Thank you, Wolfe.”
On camera, I see her shrug as her fingers continue to trace the lines. I wonder how she’d react if she knew what it was made of? I smile to myself. I’ll never fucking tell her. I don’t want to ruin this moment, even years down the road. I’ll know, and that’s enough. It’s as much for me as it is for her. It’s a memory, frozen forever in time. Her hairless cunt leaking a combination of my cum and her blood after I’d pulled out. It was one of the single most erotic moments of my life.The night I gave her my first and took her last.
I ignore her thanks. She has nothing to thank me for. It’s me who should be thanking her. “Take the pills tonight, Rayvn. I already miss being inside of you.” With that, I hang up, knowing there’s something I need to do immediately.
