Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Lauryn thanked me but added she wasn’t sure where put it, because it didn’t match the colors in her room.
Neither of the paintings is at my house now. They might be packed away in storage, but I doubt it. Before moving, they sold everything they didn’t want. So I assume the paintings were sold, too.
Reed steps back, tilting his head, narrowing his eyes—which makes me realize that he still might not be focusing at one hundred percent.
“Do you need me to tell you what to look for?” Unlike the Bigfoot painting, where the change is unmistakeable, this one is more on scale with the ants. The original was of a farmhouse and field in autumn golds. A peaceful, bucolic scene. But now the back corner of the porch is smashed and someone is peeking out from the cellar.
“I think I’ve got it.” He gestures to the porch, the cellar, then the fields. “Are these giant footprints?”
Biting my lip, I nod. “It was originally called ‘After the Harvest.’ Now it’s ‘After the Kaiju.’ I’ll be adding the tip of a giant tail here, going off the canvas. Because it’s gone, it’s passed through. The damage is done.”
“And that farmer in the cellar got lucky.”
“Very lucky.”
He spends another quiet minute looking, then abruptly straightens. “Wait a second. I have two of these. Or like these.”
“Of mine?” I sell them, but the orders are made online and I package them up myself. I’d have noticed if I shipped out a canvas to a Reed Knowles.
“I suppose they must be yours. They’re not the same style but— They’re from the house. Before it was razed.”
“What? How?”
“I was there.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if examining the painting so closely made his head ache. “I wasn’t going to be. Not after the gloating. But the day of, he called me up, said he was running the bulldozer himself, and asked if I wanted to take down half of the house. And he sounded drunk, so I was just, ‘fuck.’”
“You had to go save him from himself?”
“Or save everyone else. Usually in a demolition, all the utilities are disconnected and inspected before the go-ahead. But he got the permit so fast—and if he was drunk off his ass, who knows how much shit he could damage. So I told him to wait for me. I got there and made sure the electricity was cut, that the sewage and water and gas lines were all capped—thankfully it had all been done. Then I asked if he’d finished the walk-through, because even after a house is abandoned, you still end up with people in there. Sometimes the owners refusing to leave, more often a squatter. But he said if a Walker was still in there, all the better. So I did the walk-through, saw those paintings in the garage, and thought the Walkers had no taste at all.” At my sucked-in breath, his head whips around. “Shit, no! Abbie. Zero taste for leaving them behind! Because they were clever and funny and right up my alley. But I had no idea there was an original painting that was altered. I just put that together now after seeing this one. Anyway, I took them home. Bigfoot is over my fireplace, and the ants are in my kitchen.”
My heart leaping, I grab hold of his shirt and pull him in close for a hard, quick kiss. “I am going to fuck you silly, Reed Knowles.”
I drag Reed to the bed (though it doesn’t require much dragging). Though my intention is to fuck him, about ten minutes later, I’ve somehow ended up with his face between my legs and his fingers pumping deep, and I’m about one lick away from coming.
“Grab that condom for me, Abbie girl.” His voice is rough, his thumb taking over for his tongue and rubbing, rubbing. “As soon as you come, I’m gonna be inside you again.”
I fumble for the packet beside my head. Rubber number three. I tear it open and sing, “On the third fuck of Christmas, my enemy gave to me: Three fingers in, two loads of cum, and a cock in a latex sheath!”
Reed sputters with laughter against my pussy. Just like I hoped. I take advantage of his distraction to push and pull and twist us around until he’s on his back, where I roll the condom down his thick length and swing my leg over his hips.
“Abbie,” he groans as I take him in. “It gets better every damn time.”
Every time. I sink down, feeling that luscious stretch, the almost-too-deep feeling of his cock as I seat him fully inside. His jaw clenches, air hissing through his teeth, then he grips my thighs and bucks beneath me.
Lights burst behind my eyes. I fall forward, bracing my hands on his chest, shaking my head.