Read Online The Inheritance (Volume Three) by Zelda Reed - Free Book Online
Authors: Zelda Reed
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I close my eyes the sounds amplify to a deafening noise.
Ashleigh sinks down onto Chris’s cock and rides him in my father’s living room, fucks him on my father’s couch.
I bet it’s liberating, fucking someone between the four walls my father used to pin up other women. Officer McManus in the hallway towards his room, his office assistant against the windows leading towards the bar. Despite her guilt, I bet my father’s face pops up in her mind and she tilts her head back and smiles. Grinning towards the heavens. Take that, you asshole.
Her moans grow louder and the sound twists in my stomach. Does she know I’m home or is she past that point of ecstasy; the marker where you no longer care about the rest of the world, it’s only you and the person beneath you.
Chris is quiet. The occasional groan escapes his chest but I imagine he’s focused on watching Ashleigh move atop him, her hips swinging in a slow circle, her breasts heaving beneath her dress.
Her breath quickens, small squeaks popping out of her throat like a deflating blow-up doll. She’s close but Chris finishes first, a three-second groan drawing out of his stomach. Ashleigh follows behind him, her moan light and airy like her voice.
Seconds tick by like minutes, silence stretching between the two of them as they collect their breaths.
Chris shatters it. He says, “Hey…Don’t…What’s wrong?”
The guilt in my stomach grows towards my mouth, a small smile tugging at the corners.
Straddling Chris’s lap, Ashleigh bends forward and sobs against his shoulder.
Eight
Alanis calls at eight a.m. “Did you sort everything out with the property?”
“Sort of,” I say, stretching in bed. I’m used to being functional at this hour, but during the summertime I force myself to sleep in.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“The property doesn’t belong to me. My father gave it to Neal.”
Alanis is silent for a moment. Then, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. That’s what Martin told me.”
She curses beneath her breath. “Alright. This is a good thing. I’m going to get the papers from Neal and then come and get you. Be ready by one.”
I feel young for fretting over what I should wear, like a teenage girl deciding on an outfit for her first date. I push sixteen-year-old-Caitlin’s clothes to the right, focusing on the outfits I brought to Chicago. The ones washed in dark colors and long fabric. Respectable clothes that make me look several years older than I am.
I choose the black dress I wore to my father’s funeral, plucking the same pair of shoes from my suitcase.
In the bathroom I have a moment of hysteria, thinking of how fitting this all is. Lee Geon is dangerous. He could kill me without a second thought. There I would lay, on the dingy floor of the Chinese restaurant, dressed in the perfect funeral garb, the midnight fabric soaking up my blood.
Ashleigh and Chris are nowhere to be found. The condo’s empty, silence stretching from one end to the other, the living room cleaned up from last night’s antics.
I have breakfast in the kitchen and try not to think about Neal in his boxers, slaving over a pan of eggs, on the morning I knew I loved him.
Neal Dietrich.
The man who does nothing but lie to me.
______
Around one there’s a knock at the door. A knot grows in my throat as I grab my purse from my bedroom and slip on my shoes in the foyer.
It’s time to face Lee Geon but I’m not yet ready.
I pass the mirror by the door and instantly pick up on my fleeting confidence. My shoulders are rounded forward, my lips quivering nervously. My fingers curl into my palm to stop the shaking.
I can’t face Lee in this condition. I’ll vomit all over his shoes.
“I can’t do this,” I say, whipping open the front door.
Suzanne is standing on the other side, her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, held together by sparkling chopsticks. She plasters on a wide grin when our eyes meet.
“You can’t do what?”
Ashleigh sinks down onto Chris’s cock and rides him in my father’s living room, fucks him on my father’s couch.
I bet it’s liberating, fucking someone between the four walls my father used to pin up other women. Officer McManus in the hallway towards his room, his office assistant against the windows leading towards the bar. Despite her guilt, I bet my father’s face pops up in her mind and she tilts her head back and smiles. Grinning towards the heavens. Take that, you asshole.
Her moans grow louder and the sound twists in my stomach. Does she know I’m home or is she past that point of ecstasy; the marker where you no longer care about the rest of the world, it’s only you and the person beneath you.
Chris is quiet. The occasional groan escapes his chest but I imagine he’s focused on watching Ashleigh move atop him, her hips swinging in a slow circle, her breasts heaving beneath her dress.
Her breath quickens, small squeaks popping out of her throat like a deflating blow-up doll. She’s close but Chris finishes first, a three-second groan drawing out of his stomach. Ashleigh follows behind him, her moan light and airy like her voice.
Seconds tick by like minutes, silence stretching between the two of them as they collect their breaths.
Chris shatters it. He says, “Hey…Don’t…What’s wrong?”
The guilt in my stomach grows towards my mouth, a small smile tugging at the corners.
Straddling Chris’s lap, Ashleigh bends forward and sobs against his shoulder.
Eight
Alanis calls at eight a.m. “Did you sort everything out with the property?”
“Sort of,” I say, stretching in bed. I’m used to being functional at this hour, but during the summertime I force myself to sleep in.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“The property doesn’t belong to me. My father gave it to Neal.”
Alanis is silent for a moment. Then, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. That’s what Martin told me.”
She curses beneath her breath. “Alright. This is a good thing. I’m going to get the papers from Neal and then come and get you. Be ready by one.”
I feel young for fretting over what I should wear, like a teenage girl deciding on an outfit for her first date. I push sixteen-year-old-Caitlin’s clothes to the right, focusing on the outfits I brought to Chicago. The ones washed in dark colors and long fabric. Respectable clothes that make me look several years older than I am.
I choose the black dress I wore to my father’s funeral, plucking the same pair of shoes from my suitcase.
In the bathroom I have a moment of hysteria, thinking of how fitting this all is. Lee Geon is dangerous. He could kill me without a second thought. There I would lay, on the dingy floor of the Chinese restaurant, dressed in the perfect funeral garb, the midnight fabric soaking up my blood.
Ashleigh and Chris are nowhere to be found. The condo’s empty, silence stretching from one end to the other, the living room cleaned up from last night’s antics.
I have breakfast in the kitchen and try not to think about Neal in his boxers, slaving over a pan of eggs, on the morning I knew I loved him.
Neal Dietrich.
The man who does nothing but lie to me.
______
Around one there’s a knock at the door. A knot grows in my throat as I grab my purse from my bedroom and slip on my shoes in the foyer.
It’s time to face Lee Geon but I’m not yet ready.
I pass the mirror by the door and instantly pick up on my fleeting confidence. My shoulders are rounded forward, my lips quivering nervously. My fingers curl into my palm to stop the shaking.
I can’t face Lee in this condition. I’ll vomit all over his shoes.
“I can’t do this,” I say, whipping open the front door.
Suzanne is standing on the other side, her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, held together by sparkling chopsticks. She plasters on a wide grin when our eyes meet.
“You can’t do what?”
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