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I retrieve my phone fully intent on ignoring the call. When Aspen tries to pull away, I keep one of her hands hostage on my chest.
Her wrist is thin, frail, and I’m starting to notice how slim she is. Has she lost weight?
Or maybe she’s been this size all along and I’m only just now paying attention to it. Granted, before, I didn’t see her as a woman, but more of a constant headache and a pesky complication.
Correction, I didn’t see her as a woman I want to ram my dick inside.
She was always a woman to me. Infuriating as fuck, but a woman nevertheless.
Admittedly, ever since I found out she’s Gwen’s mother, as in the same femme fatale who played the main role in the unforgettable erotic/thriller night of my life, things have changed. Not only do I want to hate-fuck her until we’re both spent, but I also need to control her in some way.
In any way.
I refuse to believe this unwanted tension and destructive energy has anything to do with some unresolved issues from the past. I simply don’t allow my brain such disgraceful behavior.
The name flashing on the screen murders my thoughts and almost kills my hard-on.
Almost.
Aspen sees “ANGEL” written in capital letters and she quits her attempts to escape me.
I clear my throat, think of elderly women, bestiality, necrophilia, and Susan.
The last one is enough to put the boy down.
“Daddy!” Gwen squeals from the other end of the line with contagious excitement.
“Who is this?”
“What…? It’s me, Dad.”
“I thought the police were calling to inform me of your disappearance since you seem to have forgotten my existence.”
Aspen rolls her eyes. Gwen bursts out laughing.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Dad. I only skipped last night’s call because I was…busy.”
Two thoughts stab my brain. The first is that I didn’t need that image of my angel, and the second is an honest question of why I didn’t kill that bastard Nate again?
“Anyway, we’re having loads of fun, but I miss you so much. I’m going to hug the hell out of you when I get back, so you better be ready for the attack.”
“Always ready for your hugs, Angel.” And I hate the things with an undying passion.
Aspen’s long lashes fan her face, but she’s focused on the conversation. Judging by her expression, she can probably hear Gwen’s voice on the other end.
My fingers splay over hers when they clench until they’re flattened on my chest again.
Gwen continues speaking about her adventures with Nate, the nonsexual ones, because even I have limits. She chatters happily, saying she bought me things, plural.
“…we had local wine last night and it was strong! I got so drunk after one glass and couldn’t even walk.”
“Gwyneth Catherine Shaw, what did I say about drinking before you’re twenty-one? Where’s Nate? Let me talk to the bastard.”
“Oh…uh…the reception…is getting bad… Gotta go, Dad. Say hi to Aspen for me…”
Beep.
The little shit can’t lie to save her ass, and that bad reception lie was the worst performance in years.
