“What, you can’t get it up?” She mocks.
I growl, closing my eyes and imagining the kiss I just had with Clayton fucking Reeves.
My cock spikes up, harder than it was before, and it hits her in just the right spot. My movements are wild and unhinged, but it’s nothing to do with needing to fuck her so badly, but the anger running through my veins.
Her moaning plays out, loud and echoing against the walls of the bathroom.
My balls tighten, a funny feeling running down my spine and I pull out of her to cum in my hand.
Completely pissed off at the fact I had to imagine him to cum, I leave her wet and wanting. Packing myself back into my jeans, I do up my belt, wipe my hands on my jeans, and leave the bathroom.
All I hear behind me is her yelling for me, but I don’t listen.
Pushing through the crowd, I breeze right by my friends. I hear their voices, my name being called, but I don’t stop.
When I walk out of the dining hall, the world is quiet, but my nightmare isn’t over yet because my father is standing there. A hand is reached out, ready to grab onto the door handle.
His face is coated in anger.
“My office. Now.”
“How many times do I need to tell you to stop having parties in the fucking dining hall?” He sighs as he sits at his desk. The bag under his eyes heavy. My father is wearing sweatpants and a Sunrise University hoodie.
Before I have the chance to respond, he is speaking again. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing any of the shit you do? You don’t fucking listen. Do you have a screw loose in that damn head of yours?” He growls, voice full of the anger that’s clearly shown on his face.
This is the only time he ever notices me.
Not when my grades stay good. Not when I get awards for shit. Not for anything.
Other students seem to get his attention, but his own son? You can forget about it.
“Fuck you,” I raged. “Fuck you and the rules. Fuck you for being my father. Just fuck you!” I shout, arm flailing wide open. “You’re a piece of shit father. Maybe you should question your own ethics before you bitch at me.” He came to me at a bad time and I'm probably going to regret this, but right now? Hah. I don't care.
He rises from his fancy desk chair, walking around his dumb fancy oak desk and stands before me.
“What did you just say to me?” His voice is calm and that's the most terrifying part.
“I said fuck you. You're a piece of shit father!” I screamed in his face, shoving my finger into his chest. Nothing but muscle meets me and his body doesn't move even a millimeter.
His face turns flat. No anger. Every emotion is just gone.
I blink my eyes, longer than a normal blink should last it seems, but when they open again his fist is flying to my face.
The hit is brutal. Pain ricochets through my jaw and I thought for sure I'd heard it crack.
Regret hits his face the second his hand leaves mine.
“Example A, Randall.” It's all I have to say before I walk out of his office, slamming the door behind me.
It only takes a second before it swings back open and he's calling my name.
“Maxwell, I'm sorry.”
“What do you want me to say?” I whip my head over my shoulder. “You want me to tell you that it's okay? That your attention to everyone else but me doesn't matter and that it doesn't hurt me? You want me to tell you that I'm not mad that you hit me?” I fully turn around and really look at him. “All I ever wanted was your love and attention, Dad. The awards, the grades, it was always for you, but you never saw me. You always saw everyone else.”
“I-”
“Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it. The next time you drag me up here, you better be getting rid of me because I don't want to see you. Fuck you.”
