Hissing in frustration, Quill once again emerges from my thighs, his fingers stilling inside me, and I arch toward him frantically.
“In a minute, Dad!”
That little pause somehow causes the pressure inside me to build even more, and I’m teetering over the edge when Quill returns his attention to me. A few more thrusts of his fingers while his teeth bite down on my clit are enough to send me soaring, my vision growing white at the intensity.
He pinches both of my already sore ass cheeks hard, and even though it hurts like hell, I’m actually thankful he’s chosen to pinch me instead of spank me, because the ringing smacks he likes to give me woulddefinitelybe heard by his dad.
Then he whispers in my ear, “Don’t you dare move.”
By now, the early spring air is making me shake, and when he sees that, he envelops me in his jacket. It’s the best feeling in the world to be fully surrounded by the scent of him, the heavy leather embracing me, as he pulls himself regretfully away from me. He first walks over to where my panties and jeans are lying, and I’m hoping he’ll toss them over to me, but instead, he puts the panties in his back pocket before tossing the jeans into one of the bushes that borders the house.
Then he walks toward the back porch. The door bangs shut behind him, and I blow out a shaky breath, my mind reeling from all the intense sensations he’s just given me.
But all of that is momentarily forgotten when I hear the sounds of his dad’s voice.
“You missed the soldier training session,” he barks out.
Thewhat?
“I was busy,” mutters Quill.
“Busy?” his dad spits out the word. “Nothing is more important than those sessions. I don’t think you realize how much I’ve sacrificed for you to take part in them. They’ll set you up for life. I did everything to secure a place for you. Each one of those contracts will bring you in tens of thousands of dollars. More, depending on who it is.”
“I’m not here to do Devil’s dirty work,” growls Quill.
I frown, trying to understand what they’re saying. I have a feeling that Quill wouldn’t want me to overhear all this. But he did tell me not to budge, and their words are reaching me easily. Muffled slightly by the walls, but still, perfectly clear.
“It’s not dirty work,” hisses out his dad. “You should be proud to be a Devil soldier. You’ll be doing important work.”
“Yeah, right,” scoffs Quill. “They subcontract their most important work to outside gangs. The soldiers exist to wash their fucking toilets.”
“Shut up!” hisses his dad. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. The most successful soldiers have made hundreds of thousands of dollars. You’ll be rolling in money, because you’re naturally gifted. And you’re about to get your first contract.”
“I don’t need money,” snaps Quill. “We’re rich enough as it is.”
“I’mrich, but if you think you’re going to see a cent of my money…” Bob Nelson trails off, muttering a few unintelligible words. “I made up a bullshit excuse to Devil to cover for you missing training. I smoothed things out. But you better get your ass to training tomorrow, or I’m going to make things pretty heated for you.”
“Fuck you,” hisses out Quill, and my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at hearing him swear at his dad. “What the fuck is wrong with you for forcing your own son into a life of crime?”
There’s a sudden loud noise, and I bite down on a terrified squeak as I realize his dad has just punched him. The force of it has Quill crashing back against something hard. Then his dad punches him again, and there’s a heavy thud as he must fall to the ground. I clamp a hand around my mouth, sick to my stomach as I hear him grunt, as though his dad is kicking him.
Oh, my God. Quill’s father is abusive.
My mind suddenly travels back to bruises I’ve sometimes seen on him. They’ve become a rare occurrence, but they were a lotmore frequent when he was a freshman and a sophomore. I always assumed he had just gotten into a fistfight, like he does so often. I never imagined his father was abusing him.
I crouch against the side of the house, listening helplessly to the sounds of Quill getting beaten by his dad. I feel so weak, unable to do a thing but listen to him suffer.
His dad lets up, finally, and tears are burning my eyes as I wait for some sign that Quill is okay.
I hear more noise, as though Quill is slowly standing up again, and I let out a shivering breath of relief. “One of these days, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he says in a low, neutral voice that makes me shiver even harder.
There’s a pause, as though his dad has grown nervous at the threat.
Then Bob Nelson fumes, “First, focus on training to kill those contracts. Don’t think I’m not aware of the… the kind of person you are. At least, this work will channel your urges. And tomorrow, you’d better show up for training. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Fuck you,” mutters Quill again, but his dad is already stomping away, before banging shut some other door.
My shivering has gotten uncontrollable, my back pressed against the outer wall of the house as though the hard surface, that feels cold even through the protective layer of the leather, can bring me comfort.
