Rox (Nameless Order: Heart Chapter #1)

9. Roxie

Nine

Roxie

I ’ve never felt so loved and revered during sex. I have had some fantastic sex before, but the way he moved, talked to me, touched me, there was something more to it all. That alone made the connection between us that much stronger. I pull close to him, running my nose along his peck where my head rests. His fingers slowly run up and down my spine, causing my muscles to twitch and react most deliciously.

I could lay like this forever.

“I think I’m going to keep you,” I mumble lazily.

His whole body bounces with his chuckle and almost rocks me to sleep. His fingers stop tracing my back, and he pulls me flush to him. Rolling on his side, tucking me completely under his chin. I could live in this spot. I have never felt the need to stay this close after an orgasm, let alone the thirty he gave me. I am the one to cum and run. There is no need to stay after the needs have been met. But with Mimic, there is more.

Then it hits me: I don’t know his real name. I am falling for, and now fucking, a man who I have no idea who he is. Just what he does and how he treats me. I sit up in bed, startling him. I’m suddenly awake and more aware of what is happening in this relationship. Situationship? Whatever the fuck this is.

“You okay?” Mimic sits up beside me, and the blanket falls, showing off his abs and the happy trail I want to run my tongue down again. I shake my head, pulling the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around me, and sitting at the foot of my bed.

Maybe by creating distance between us, I will continue to see clearly. But looking up at him, all I see are the bits I want to lick and suck and make him scream my name before riding him off into the sunset.

Jesus, maybe I am dick blind, or is it blinded by his dick? Ugh, I don’t know.

“Rox?” Mimic’s voice cuts through my racing thoughts. I can’t help the word vomit that comes out of my mouth.

“Now that you have had your dick, fingers, and tongue inside several parts of me, I think it’s only fair that you tell me your real name.” Really Roxanne? That could have been asked with more tact.

“Max Marsden,” The humor leaves Mimic’s eyes. He takes a deep breath, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them, looking down for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “My real, legal name I was born with is Max Marsden.”

“Why do you say it like that? Did you change your name to Mimic or something? Are you trying to be like Cher? Or Madonna?” I force a chuckle out.

Our eyes stay locked for a moment. He seems like he’s at war with something. I don’t know how long we sit here, me waiting for an answer and him internally battling about the answer he will give me.

Then he moves. He drops his legs, reaches to the ground, pulls out his wallet, and hands it to me. I look down at it in my hands, then back to him, confused as to how a simple question about his name had led to this. Who did I let in between my thighs? I open the wallet and see his license. The picture is Mimic, but the name listed isn’t Max or Maxwell. It’s…Tyson Berry? I look back from the ID in my hand to Mimic. I go back and forth a few times, trying to assemble the pieces. But I don’t feel any fear, just confusion.

He sighs before laying down on his back, scrubbing his hand against his mouth. I can see the battle behind his eyes. I know I’m asking a lot, but I deserve to know who the man I’m falling for is.

“Mimic, please. You tell me one name, yet your ID says something completely different.”

“It’s not easy to explain, Rox.”

“Well, I need you to try, Mimic. I just gave you myself.”

“And I gave myself right back to you.”

“Did you, though? Or was I given a lie?”

Is this fair of me to ask? Or demand? Why can’t I allow myself to accept him as simply Mimic? I know a lot of the men in the club don’t give their real names out. It’s something they hold near to their hearts. Is this any different?

As much as I want to say it isn’t, it is. It’s very different. There’s nothing I can tell myself at the moment that will make me accept the fact of not knowing his name. I want him, but I want all of him.

All of nothing, and frankly, having nothing won’t do for me either.

“Mimic…”

He takes another deep breath while closing his eyes. I’m quiet as I wait for him to say something, anything. Right as I’m about to give up, he finally speaks.

“Do you know why I’m called Mimic?”

I sigh while I roll my eyes. “Why would I know that? No one knows shit about you, Mimic.”

He chuckles softly, “That’s true. Anyway, I came here with my road name. It was something I gave myself.”

“I thought they were something you earned.”

“Normally, yes. But I knew who I was and what I should go by. My life wasn’t easy. I went through a lot of bullshit when I was younger. I’m the typical stepfather was a piece of shit, couldn’t save my mom, people died, origin story.”

“Mim—”

“—Don’t. Please don’t cut me off. I need to get it out,” he looks at me pleadingly. I nod in agreement so he’ll continue. “Thank you. Anyway, after my family, actually no. I don’t call them that. Only my mother was my family. After the pieces of shit who killed her died, I set out on my own.

“It wasn’t easy. Nothing about my life has been. I’ve been through so much shit that no one should have to experience, but it’s the shit hand I was given.”

He pauses for a moment. I wonder if he’s gathering the nerve or deciding what to tell me. I wish I didn’t promise him not to speak, though. I’m lost. I’m positive he’s leaving out information, but I don’t want him to stop telling me the story.

“I killed them: my stepfather and his sons. I killed them for what they did to her. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t get caught, so I ran. I wasn’t going to live my life in a cell for what I did to them. After what I found them doing to her, I refused. So I left.

“I knew I wouldn’t make it long while on the run. I wasn’t sure how I was going to survive, but I did what I had to. The answer to my problems came in the form of a friend who ended up overdosing and conveniently had all the paperwork saying who he was. I took it. I became him. I mimicked him.”

My eyes widen. I’m not sure what it was expecting, but I also know it wasn’t that.

“I don’t want to bore you with the details of every identity I’ve taken.”

I can’t keep my promise anymore. I have to ask. “Do you kill them?”

He looks at me and smiles. I don’t think that that’s a good sign. “No. Well, not really?”

“The fuck does that mean? Not really?”

“I’ve killed two. Out of every person I’ve mimicked, I’ve only taken the identity of two. I did it because it happened to work out, not because I wanted to be them.”

“How many “ thems” have there been?”

“Seventeen”

“ Seventeen. Jesus.”

My hand comes up to my forehead before I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees. He’s lived the lives of seventeen other people for reasons unknown. The first one was to escape a murder charge. I get that. But the rest? Do the reasons matter? In all honesty, do they change anything?

The simple answer is no. The men in my life do fucked up shit. Worse shit than stealing identities. What type of hypocrite would I be if I allowed this to bother me?

“It’s who I am, Rox. It’s what I do. I can assume an identity easily. It’s what I’m good at. It’s what your dad uses me for when needed. I can’t stop it.”

I look him in the eyes. “I’m not asking you to, nor would I expect it. I only want to know who you are, not the people you mimic. I want to know Max. I want him.”

“I haven’t been Max for a very long time, Rox.”

“Maybe not, but it’s who you are. It’s who your mom gave to the world. It’s who belongs to me.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Rox. Even your father doesn’t know. He knows who I am at the time, that’s it.”

I shift and straddle his lap, placing my arms around his neck. Leaning down, I give him a kiss. When I pull back, I look him dead in the eye. “Max is mine. Mimic is theirs.”