Page 19 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
‘Roman,’ she cries, her voice filled with a guttural need that proves my undoing. My name on her lips catches me so off-guard that I choke on my breath. Yet, it’s been so long since any of my dalliances knew my real name that hearing it moaned in the heat of desire has me coming hard, my eyes closing as I imagine her on top of me, taking every ounce of my cum while calling my name.
That one, desperate moan has me feral. Maggie reached through the wall unbeknownst and unlocked a part of me I’d worked to suffocate for so long.
Silence follows next door.
Shame flows over me in a hot wave as I sit in my wet towel, cum streaking my thighs and my dick softening in my hand.
I need to leave the little oddball alone.
Even if she’s having dirty thoughts about me.
If she knew who I am online to the rest of the world, she’d soon be cursing me rather than wanking over me.
7
MAGGIE
Staring at my phone doesn’t make the inevitable run-down call any less daunting. Dad always wants to check in after a contract has been met, or in my case, not met. He says we learn through analysing our actions, but really, I think he just enjoys hearing the gory details.
The call rings for so long that I consider whether to just not answer it. Pretend I’m busy.
As if anyone will believe that.
Unfortunately, ignoring my dad isn’t a realistic option.
The screen flickers before filling with anextreme close-up of Dad’s nostril.
‘Jeez, Dad. Back up,’ I say.
‘Can you see me?’ Dad always seems to shout into the screen, as though he doesn’t realise that we have volume switches.
‘We can seefar too much of you,’ Eliza says, her face popping into its own little box, her nostrils a perfectly respectable distance away.
Dad’s camera jerks. A lovely view of the corniced ceiling, then his jumper, before a tattooed hand fills the screen.
‘Tilt it up a bit,’ Fraser says offscreen.
‘Iamtilting it,’ Dad sighs.
‘Just let go and let me do it.’
‘Dad, you are young enough to figure out video calls.’ Eliza laughs.
‘That’s Priscilla’s department. If you all came home and stopped buggering off, I wouldn’t need to use this fucking technology.’
The image moves again and finally settles on Dad’s face. His less-than-impressed-looking face. He doesn’t even need to tell me he’s disappointed; it slaps me in the face through one pixellated look.
Brilliant.
‘There you are,’ he says, as if we’ve been the ones moving our screens.
I give a small wave, nerves bubbling in my gut. ‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Maggie.’
Even my name feels like an admonishment. As much as I don’t want to be a killer, Ihatebeing a disappointment.
Eliza leans closer to her camera, resting her chin in her hand. ‘Maggie, you look like you haven’t slept in days.’
