“Wh-what are you doing, Quill?” gasps Dad as he stares at me, his features frozen.
“I said,” I growl, “take one step closer and I shoot. In fact, you’d better back the fuck away, right now.”
He swallows hard as he takes a few steps back. “Listen, Quill. I’m not going to beat you up. I just want to talk.”
Dad’s never talked to me except with his fists, so I know that’s bullshit. Well, itwasbullshit, though he’s clearly been scared right out of his initial intention.
But I don’t give a fuck about a beating. I can handle a lot worse. Even after the beating just a few hours ago, at Tragen’s hands, which still has me sore all over.
The only thing I care about is the girl I’m currently fingering the fuck out of, and there’s just no way I’ll ever let him see her like this.
If his eyes so much as fall on the blanket that’s currently hiding her, he’s dead.
His eyes land not too far away as his shocked features contort into repulsion.
“Are you… are you masturbating?”
I repress a snort. I guess that’s how the shaking of the blanketover my fingers driving into Piper’s cunt must look to him.
By now, Dad’s edged back to the doorway, and, realizing I’m not going to answer him, he continues nervously, “I wanted to talk about the fuck-up yesterday.”
His eyes are once more glued on the barrel of the gun I still have cocked to his head.
“I realize it’s not your fault,” he adds hastily. “It was Aaron’s, and I understand he’s been dealt with.”
“Tragen put a bullet right through his skull,” I confirm, and I feel my cricket tense at the words, even though she’s dripping at the continued fingering.
She’s being a good girl, not making the least noise or moving in the slightest, which makes me realize she definitely has it in her to do that. And that means some part of her must like the nipple clamps that tug at her with every squirm, since she definitely wasnotkeeping still before.
Dad has also paled, though I’m sure he knows all about Aaron’s death. But he understands my unspoken words:you’re one wrong move away from a bullet in the skull yourself.
“Tragen told me he’s giving you more responsibility from now on, and he’ll increase your pay,” continues Dad, his eyes still fixed on the gun. “From now on, no one on your team shoots but you. You’ll also get to choose your team henceforth. Those are all incredible privileges for someone who’s just starting out as a soldier.”
This time, I don’t repress a snort. “So I guess that’s why you decided to beat my ass.”
His jaw clenches, but he must realize there’s no use denying his initial intention. “I wanted you to understand the consequences, son.”
That word again. “Or maybe, just maybe, you’re fucking jealous everytime I show myself to be the kind of man you’ve always wished you could be, you fucking coward.”
Anger flashes in his eyes before he once more remembers the gun. And I suddenly realized I’ve hit the nail on the head.
All those beatings I took for punching the shit out of the other kids, or now, by getting promoted by Tragen—none of that really was about consequences. Just him, on some desperate power trip, because everything about me reminds him of how weak he really is.
“Get out, Dad,” I lash out.
“Quill,” he stammers, “I’m not done talking…”
“I said,” I roar, “GET THE FUCK OUT!”
And when he still doesn’t move, I move my gun just an inch and pull the trigger, causing a detonation that absolutely destroys the wall beside him.
At the very same time, I give a few hard pumps to my girl, while roughly pinching her clit between my thumb and pinkie.
That’s all she needs to come, but I guess the fear and the arousal from believing I just killed my dad causes her to lose her ability to stay calm for once, and she cries out, her pussy clamping down furiously on my fingers.
But Dad doesn’t even process that sound, his face white as he staggers backward, imagining for a second he’s been shot.
I aim my gun again, this time at his head, and I’ve never seen someone run away as fast as he does. The fucking coward.
