Page 10 of Haunting Goats

“I’ll read you one, but only because I don’t know you and hopefully I’ll never see you again.”

She scrunches her body and wiggles her sneaker-slippered feet in a way that tells me she’s uneasy. Good. I’m about to make it worse.

“Hopefully?”

What a silly little girl. If she thinks she’ll never see me again, she’s got another thing coming.

“Yeah. I’d rather not. You’re quite annoying and rude.”

Her eyes flick to me and back down to her Mac, a smirk on her face.

“Shut up and read me your poem.”

Lyr’s jaw drops and she sits there slowly blinking at me.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling,” I say.

Her brow furrows as she frowns.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she says, “it makes me not want to do the thing. Oh, and Attie, your stupid mustache is hanging off your real one.”

Goddamn. I love getting her worked up. She’s so fucking hot; I admire her lips, full and soft. All I want to do is stick my cock in her mouth. I haven’t registered that she knows who I am. I’m too lost in my thoughts of her cunt wrapped around my hardening length. Not wanting to embarrass myself, I push the thought away.

She moves her powder blue Mac to her bedside table. I wonder how she could afford something so high-quality and name-brand. She moves the old pillows around, fluffing them up and placing them at the head of the bed. I watch as a large puff of dust explodes from the middle. She doesn’t seem to notice.

Lyric sits with her legs folded like a pretzel. She offers a puzzled frown.

“Why are you still here?”

Because you’re mine, Strawberry Girl, and I’m going to own you in every way.

“Because. I want to make sure you’re okay.” I say instead, “And I want to hear your poem.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. I can tell she’s frustrated with me. I just don’t care.

“I’m fine.”

I walk over to her and sit on the edge of her bed.

Her pouting turns me on, and I let out an enormous sigh. “Please read it.”

She glares at me before picking her laptop up and pulling her poem back up on the screen. Lyr clears her throat and begins.

“Resting in pieces from her parasite

Choking on the dirt

Wilting without light

And water

I’ll always be your daughter

And you, sitting on my chest, pillow to my face

Smothered

Wishing away the guilt