Page 14 of Rox

I smile at that. Thinking back to how I felt before Angel showed up and pulled that assbag stunt, I was so happy. It felt real, it felt right, it was perfect. Being in his arms, even though he smelled like absolute horse shit, I had never felt better. He’d given me so much just by holding me. His lips on mine gave me something else entirely. Something I’ve never felt before.

“I want him so bad, Manda.”

“Girl, you act like that ain’t obvious.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out? What if he realizes that I’m not worth it?”

“Um, no. Don’t start that shit. We’re not gonna play this game. You’re not some hard person to take care of or love. You’re one of the best people in the world, and if I liked vaginas, you’d be mine. But alas, I don’t, so you have to settle for him.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever recover, to be honest.”

“I know, but you must. For the sake of your orgasms, you must.”

We continue to shoot the shit for another hour or so before her husband picks her up. I hop in the shower, and once I’m out and slightly dry, I take a long look in the mirror. Could I give him everything he wants, everything I crave, and not allow others in my life to influence it?

Fuck yeah, I can. I’ve been doing things my way, on my time, for years now. I’m not going to let anyone stand between me and Mimic. I want him. I crave him. And if Manda’s right, he wants me just as badly, if not more.

If his shouting after I left was any indication, I could tell him to come here now, and he’d be here in an instant. Smirking to myself, I pick up my phone off the counter. Pulling up his contact, I hit message. I pull back enough that he can see my body, but I’m covering all of the pieces that will drive him wild. My pink hair is still wet, and water drops from my hair are on mystomach. I snap the picture and hit send, followed by a simple text.

I’m wet, and I want you. Now.

Not even thirty seconds later, I have my reply.

On my way.

I can’t help the schoolgirl giggle, which pops from my lips in his reply. I know some talking needs to be done, but I’m not thinking with my head right now. I can feel the pulse between my legs more at the thought of him. What would he do to me without clothing blocking the delicious friction I crave? A quick knock on my door snaps me from my thoughts. I look down at the towel I dropped, and I debate for a split second on answering the door naked. But then remember that I live in a family neighborhood, and it’s still early. I grab my robe from the bathroom door and walk down the short hall to the front door.

The frosted glass on the front door shows me the shape of the person waiting for me, and I don’t see Mimic’s tall, bulky frame. This figure is shorter with broad shoulders. My shoulders sag because I know who this is, and I am not in the headspace to deal with him. Especially with who is coming over with what I can only hope is a long, hard cock ready to do unspeakable things to me and my bits.

“I can see you standing there. Open up,” his voice cuts from the other side of the door, killing the last of my lady boner.

“Hi, Dad,” I murmur as I open the door just enough to look at him but not enough to allow him to come in. Does that stop him from pushing the door open and walking right past me? No. “Please, come in and make yourself at home,” I tell him sarcastically as I roll my eyes.

“I know you and I haven’t seen eye to eye lately. I wish we could meet somewhere in the middle. It’s been weighing on me more and more,” Dad starts as he paces back and forth behind my couch. I close the front door and lean on it. He isn’t evenlooking at me. Knowing him, he rehearsed this speech, needs to get it out, and nothing is going to stop him until he does.

“The guys told me you were at the clubhouse last night. You showed up and then left. Actually, you didn’t even make it to the clubhouse. You pulled into the drive, stopped, and then turned around and left.”

When Angel showed up and started bitching, I almost understood it. Once I realized he’d been drinking, I really understood it. But this? This is borderline creepy as fuck. This immense helicopter parent thing he’s doing right now is doing nothing but piss me off. Judging by what he’s saying, he does not listen to himself talk. If he did, he would hear how damn insane he sounds right now, giving me a play-by-play of my driving. I’m positive my face isn’t hiding how this is making me feel, but he doesn’t notice as he continues.

“Angel went to check on you, but you called your mother, and he was dragged away. But no one would tell me why you showed up on the property only to turn around and leave. Not to mention, I have no fucking clue where Angel found you, he doesn’t remember, and your mother won’t tell me.” I smirk and he continues with his rant. “Your mom said you were safe when she picked up Angel, but that’s all she’ll tell me.”

“Yeah, well, I was perfectly fine,” I cut in and tell him, but it’s as if he doesn’t hear me.

He lets out a sigh, scrubbing his hands on his face, and his tone changes, “I can’t shake the feeling that you needed help, and you didn’t call me.” With that, he stops and looks at me. I can’t explain the look in his eyes as he looks at me for the first time since he barged into my home. “You needed help, and I wasn’t your first call. I have always been your first call, and there was nothing. I am now seeing how hurt you are by this, by this fight. Because I broke the trust you had in me, I wasn’t your first call.”

While my heart kinda breaks at how defeated he sounds, and I hate how it got to this point, I can’t help but be mad as hell. He’s assuming that something was wrong. I only showed up because I was in trouble. Sure, it’s exactly what happened, but it’s annoying that he immediately came to that conclusion. Also, it shouldn’t have taken me being in some form of danger for him to see how broken our relationship has become. So sure, I’m happy he’s seeing it, but he raised one stubborn and overly petty daughter. I’m a bitch, and at this moment, I don’t care about him being my dad. I care about him showing up for some bullshit reason.

“As I said, I was perfectly fine. Did it ever occur to you, even once, that I changed my mind? That I no longer felt like coming over? Or was it ever a thought that maybe something came up after I turned in, so I left to go handle that? No. What it is is that Mom has you on the couch until you fix this. Hmm?” I ask, looking down at my chipped manicure.

“Huh?” The hurt is gone, and now, his face is confused at my cool tone.

“Let’s put the bullshit of yesterday behind us. That doesn’t matter right now. We have been fighting for months about this. I haven’t called you in about that long. Any communication had been through Mom, or it turned into a screaming match with witnesses. Me showing up and not talking to you isn’t something new. The real reason why you’re here has to be because Mom stopped playing double agent and took my side. Because her being mad at you is the only reason why I can see you here when communication hasn’t been a problem until now.” I finish and walk past him into the kitchen. I need to get away from him before I let the little girl in me begging for a hug from my daddy break free and let him win.

“I pour my heart out here, realizing I have broken your trust in me, and you think it’s because your mom kicked me out of ourbed?” He seems baffled by my speaking to him like this. As if I haven’t called him a selfish asshole to his face more than once in these past few months.

“I mean, it makes sense, really,” I call from the kitchen. “You have been telling me your mind would never change over and over again. But here you are, hat in hand, telling me you now realize we’re broken. We’re only broken because you decided to be a dick-tator, and yes, I say that spelled as d-i-c-k rather than a loving and supportive father.” Changing my voice into that tone that all women do when they mock the men in their lives, “‘I am the head of this family and what I say goes.’ That man wouldn’t be here unless he weren’t getting the love and attention he is used to.” Before he can reply, my front door opens, and I can’t help the groan that escapes my mouth. Hasn’t he seen my dad’s bike in the drive? Why would he just burst in here?

“Mimic?” My Dad’s tone is cautious and questioning.

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