“She’ll be taken down to one of the holding cells,” I assure her in as gentle a voice as I can manage, considering I want to burn the fucking school to the ground with Delilah still inside. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill hee.”
“We’ll go back to our room.” Quinton chimes in, pulling Aspen closer to his side. I would thank him for taking care of her, but even in my half-crazed state, I know how condescending it would sound. She’s my daughter, but she’s his wife. He has just as much of a stake in her life as I do, if not more so.
Quinton shoots one more murderous look toward Delilah before leading Aspen away. I notice she doesn’t look at the prisoner, and a blade pierces my heart. I allowed this to happen. I told myself it would be all right for her and Delilah to spend time together so long as they were supervised. The fucking lies I tell myself. When will I ever learn?
“Let’s go down to the cells.” Delilah only twitches slightly at that, probably surprised I’m going with them. If she is, she’s forgetting who she’s dealing with. As if I would let this be the end of it. Oh, no. Especially when the cells are soundproofed. Nobody will be able to hear her scream.
Except for me, of course, and I intend to savor every moment.
I follow a few steps behind, watching the men drag her down the hall. How could she? Is she that deeply broken? How much of what she’s told me is a lie? Was there ever a single grain of truth?
My daughter. There’s not a doubt in my mind about what Marcel intended to do once she was unconscious. Who’s he working with? There has to be somebody on the outside if he was able to get his hands on drugs strong enough to knock a grown man unconscious.
Am I kidding myself, thinking she’ll tell me? I saw what she went through when Quinton had her locked away, and she didn’t admit to a single thing then. What makes now any different? I won’t flatter myself into thinking I’ll make a difference since I haven’t up to now. Even knowing Aspen is my daughter, she still did this.
How much of this is anger over Aspen, and how much is anger for my own sake? Lauren would have a field day with this shit.
The guards shove her into the first room we come to. I have the sick satisfaction of watching her stumble and fall against the metal sink. “Thank you,” I tell them both as she struggles to get to her feet, her hands still cuffed behind her. “Now, leave us alone.” She gasps softly, and I have to wonder why she’s surprised. Doesn’t she know me by now?
I wait until the door closes before sighing. “I’m going to give you a chance,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “You have this one single chance to explain yourself. Tell me why you were there, who told you to do it, and you might make it out of this in one piece.”
When she doesn’t say a word, I can’t help but growl as all the old instincts rage within me. I’m barely holding them back now, hanging on by a thread. “Or you can pretend not to know a thing,” I continue, “and then I can’t promise you’ll live to see tomorrow. So which is it? Are you going to be upfront with me for once, or are you going to force me to hurt you?”
Not even that gets a response. She doesn’t even remind me it would be my choice if I hurt her. “Did you lose your voice?” I demand, my fists clenched. “Fucking answer me. Why did you do this? What was the purpose? What did you think was going to happen?”
Our eyes meet for one instant, but she looks away.
For some reason, that’s what does it. The fact that I know damn well she hears me and understands but is still too fucking obstinate to give me what I want.
My hand shoots out, taking her by the hair. I yank her head back, staring into her now fear-filled eyes. “This is how you want it?” I hiss in her face. “Is this how you like it? When I fucking hurt you? Then you’re going to love this, you lying little bitch.”
She yelps in pain when I pull her across the room by the hair before throwing her onto the cot. That yelp moves through me, lighting up all my darkest corners. It reminds me of who I am. Who I’ve always been. Who I get to be now while she’s helpless to stop me.
My hands are already at my waistband, pulling the sweats down low enough to let my cock spring free. “You don’t want to use your mouth for explaining?” I mutter, stroking myself as I lower myself to one knee on the cot’s edge. She tries to push herself as close to the wall as possible as if that’s going to help. The sound of her quiet little whimpers is music to my ears.
“Remember, you could’ve avoided this.” When she tries to turn her face away, I take her jaw in one hand and force her mouth open before slamming my cock inside. She gags hard enough that her body convulses. “Don’t like that, do you?” I slam into the back of her throat again and hold her there, nose smashed against my base as she groans and gags around me.
“It didn’t have to be like this,” I remind her while she struggles for air. “You could’ve stayed in bed tonight. You could’ve minded your business. Instead, you tried to kill my daughter. My fucking daughter!” I roar as tears roll down her cheeks.
I pull back, and she wheezes before I plunge in again, cutting off her air. “So far, I’ve been nice enough to let you breathe before you pass out. I’m not feeling so nice tonight. I might lose track of time.”
She sobs in response, urging me on, making it impossible for me to stop now. No, instead, I grind myself deeper, savoring her frantic attempts at sucking in a single breath.
She used me. Lied to me. Even now, she won’t be honest. She deserves this.
“You feel like talking now?” I ask, pulling back so she can breathe. The sight of her red, tearstained face is an aphrodisiac. “Sorry. I can’t quite hear you.” When she moans in dismay, I laugh, plunging deeper.
“That’s right,” I grunt, fucking her face while she weeps. “Get it nice and hard. Nice and wet, too. Trust me. You’re going to want it to be very wet when I put it in your ass.”
She squeals like the fucking pig she is, making me laugh again.
“What?” I taunt, thrusting in and out, using her the way she needs to be used. This is all she’s good for, anyway. “Don’t like that idea? Nobody ever fucked your ass before? That’s good. It’ll be nice and tight for me.” She tries to shake her head and scream out her refusal, but all it does is make me take her harder.
“Maybe now you’ll learn I’m not the guy you fuck with. Maybe now, you’ll finally remember.” God, it’s almost too much, the joy of giving in to the brutality still living in me. I know she’ll have bruises by the time we’re finished—that will be the least of her problems. And it thrills me. It makes me want to hurt her more.
“Please!” she gasps when I pull free, dripping with saliva. “Please, don’t!”
“Now, now.” I laugh at her attempts to fight me off as I roll her onto her stomach, her useless hands trapped behind her. “It’s too late for that. I gave you a chance, remember?”