AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wishful thinking. Besides, I don’t hate my daughter. I’ll just have to fix it.
Not yet.
I’m not done enjoying my time here with Leighton. I need my woman here with me.
I won’t be sharing her with the outside world so fast. Won’t come face-to-face with what’s waiting for us out there.
I’m selfish and I don’t give a fuck.
All I need is a few more days.
After I return inside the house, I shower, throw on a heather gray T-shirt and a pair of old jeans. I’m not wearing my formal therapist attire. I’m not that person today.
Today, we won’t have a session. No talking or hypnotizing Leighton.
Today, we’ll focus on ourselves. On relieving her mind from all the work she’s done.
I’m quiet as I walk up to our bed. I stand at the edge, my shadow looming over Leighton’s sleeping form.
I’m pleased to see she’s exactly the way I left her. Thick, pink locks cascade on the cream-colored sheets. Her blonde roots remind me of her confession while she was in a trance.
She dyed her hair for me.
Before I ever considered her anything other than Rylan’s best friend, she idolized me. Looked up at me. Had a…crush on me. No. That was love.
Always love.
A surge of possessiveness almost has me wrapping my hand around her neck. To be able to own more than just her mind. Her body. Her breaths.
We’ll have time.
My gaze rakes leisurely across the rest of Leighton’s face. Eyes closed. Cheeks stained with dry tears. And inside her palm, my cum still taints her skin in opaque white.
Peaceful and filthy.
My girl.
Having had my fill, I leave the room, closing the door behind me. I enter the study, sit on the chair behind my desk, and fire up my laptop.
Time to check on Rylan. Another part I hide from Leighton for the time being.
Only I can’t see well with this fucking light coming from the glass wall behind me. Its blare is way too harsh today. I carry the laptop with me to one of the armchairs in the room.
Better.
As I’m settling in, I finally have a view of our Santa Barbara house.
As much as it pains me to admit it, the saying “No rest for the wicked” is agonizingly accurate in Ry’s case. My precious, albeit wicked daughter is already up, using God knows what resources on her laptop to find me.
The screen is hidden from me, but it doesn’t matter.
Her wicked smirk says it all.
She’s onto something.
I twist my bottom lip between my fingers. What, though?
Maybe she just got a message from Milo. Maybe—
