Page 45 of Fatal Collision

I can’t stay here and do this. I just… can’t. It’s not right.

I tuck my cock away and walk out. Screw this. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to be here.

But I’m not fast enough.

I barely make it two steps down the hall before my father grabs me by the neck.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he seethes near my ear.

I refuse to look at him, and he throws me up against the wall and smacks me hard. He’s always been quick to anger, and the blow stuns me.

“What’s the fucking problem here?” He seizes my chin, bruising me with his firm grip.

A thousand needles prick my sore cheek. I grit my teeth, refusing to respond. Or cower. I’m not scared of him, not really… but I can’t get revenge if he kills me.

My father backhands me a second time and gets in my face. “Listen carefully, punk. You’re gonna go back in there and fuck the senator’s wife in the ass, understood? You’re my son. A pathetic one, but still my offspring. What good are you to me and the society if you can’t even get hard and fuck a woman?”

“And what if I don’t fucking want to?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

The incriminating evidence. The blackmail they hold over all of our heads to ensure we can never step out of line. Mine is exceptionally gruesome.

“Your mother will find out the truth about what you did.”

The manipulative bastard! I’m gonna kill him one day.

He knows I don’t fear prison. Or death. But Mom… She’s my weak spot. I would lay down my life for her in a heartbeat. He dangles that threat over my head every time he wants something.

“It would ruin her world.”

“And whose fucking fault is that?” I shove him back, storming past him to finish what I started, so I can grab Cash and get out of here.

“Who is the girl?” he calls out after me just as I’m about to enter the dining room. I stiffen, feeling him approach from behind. “Word on the street is that you were seen with a girl down at Dark Lanes.”

“There’s no girl,” I grit out, my heart thudding in my ears.

“No?”

He’s beside me now, smoothing my tie.

“She must have a tight cunt for you to break Mr. Evans’s wrist.”

He walks past me into the room, leaving me to swallow down bile while his casual threat slithers down my spine.

“Stay away from her,” I warn.

He spins around, his hands in his pockets. “Well, that depends on you now, doesn’t it?”

With that, he joins the senator at the table and gestures for one of the waiters to refill his tumbler.

I keep my eye on them as I cross the room. If the old man ever so much as looks in Jessica’s direction, I’ll skin him alive. I don’t give a damn about the consequences.

I unbuckle my belt again with trembling fingers, rage simmering beneath the surface like a pan of hot water. That dirty feeling? It spreads like a sickness across my clammy skin as I mount the senator’s wife.

No amount of scrubbing will wash this filth off me.

To be continued.