Page 95 of My Girl
Chapter29
Crave
The early morninglight follows me into the apartment. In the bedroom, Rae lies on her back, an unusual position for her. She’s completely gone, seduced by the cold medicine I saw on her counter.
She can’t stand to think about what it means to be my daughter.
Society believes it’s immoral to be intimate with our families. We can’t fuck them—no,never—otherwise, our spawn will be cursed to wear our sins on their deformed bodies.
I got a vasectomy not long after I raped Rae’s mother. The feeling of my piercings abusing my victims was too heady to give up, and in cases where I let them live, I didn’t want to have to take care of any brats. I don’t give a shit about society’s rules, but perhaps one day, the knowledge that we can’t have children will comfort Rae. Or perhaps it’ll depress her, knowing that I never wanted her to be born in the first place.
I don’t give a shit either way.
A sleepy grunt flares through her nostrils. The comforter lies loosely over her stomach, exposing the top half of her oversized shirt. Her eyes are closed, and there’s an innocence to her. She looks like an angel. Even if she is twenty-five years old, she’s nothing more than a child. Especially compared to me.
Family is nothing more than a prefabricated human need for survival. A bond that clings to you so that your group can survive the winter. But when you’re adopted into a group where the parents hate you, the word “family” takes on a different meaning. It’s not survival, nor is it a bond. It’s a relationship that’s chosen for you.
Samantha tried to save Rae. Tried to raise a child that would do good in the world. And by all means, she put in the time, effort, and love. That “familial love” was chosen for Rae before she was born. Even so, Rae still came looking for her father.
And she fucking found him.
Her laptop is open on top of her dresser. I drag my fingertips over the mouse pad.
A bus ticket to Vegas with an eight a.m. departure.
Funny.
She thinks she can run away, back to mommy. As if dear old Samantha is enough to save her from me.
My vision sharpens as I contemplate the years I’ve put into this insane experiment. I knew, from the day I found out about her existence, that I should’ve killed Rae and her mother. With the death of Michael and Miranda Hall, I needed to clean up the loose ends, including the one bitch I fucked while impersonating Michael Hall.
But curiosity won me over, seeing that dark-haired infant in the bitch’s arms. I snuck into the resort’s childcare center, posing as a maintenance worker, and I got the DNA sample for an acquaintance to confirm it off-the-record. With those results proving our shared blood, I knew what I wanted out of Rae.
An experiment. A daughter raised by a good woman. A woman who never intended to sleep with a man like me. How would our daughter turn out? Would she be good like her mother, or would the sadistic streak in her blood run so deep that shehadto let it out? Would she end up being my girl?
I rub my dick as I look at her body. In the beginning, my fascination with Rae was merely scientific. It wasn’t until I had her in my taxi the night I planned to finally kill her, that everything changed. The smell of her cunt and the devious look in her eyes intrigued me. She saw others, even me, as less than her. And I wanted more of that.
Her chest rises and falls, and her nipples are smooth under her shirt, like she’s begging for my attention. By all definitions, she is my daughter. My blood. Half of my DNA. But it’s not as simple as that. Family doesn’t mean anything to me. Why should family suddenly mean something when it comes to Rae? We’re simply bodies, and we both want more than “family” out of each other.
I pull the comforter down until she’s exposed. The oversized shirt. Her thong. The makeup stains dry on her pillow.
I slide onto my stomach, moving myself between her legs. I pull the fabric from her pussy lips, exposing her slit. I tongue her folds, tasting her. Sourly sweet, like forbidden fruit. She moans, and it reverberates down to her thighs. Her hand grasps my hair.
“Little girl,” I whisper, my words tickling her cunt.
She flinches sharply, then kicks me in the shoulder. I climb over her body and pin her to the bed before she can focus. Her eyes widen, shock huffing through her lips.
“What the fuck?” she screams. “You fucking freak!”
“You’re not making that bus,” I say. “You’re staying here with me.”
“No—”
I cover her mouth and press my hips down, my hard cock resting between her legs, the metal rubbing against her clit.
“This is who you are, Rae,” I murmur. “Accept it.”
She jerks her head to the side, desperate to get out of my grasp. I adjust my grip, pinching her nose and mouth in my fingers. Panic dances in her eyes as her face reddens, practically matching her cherry-red hair.
