“Dad,” I wheeze.
Tears sting my eyes as I look past Justin’s shoulder. My father relaxes in his seat and watches in silence, refusing to help me as Justin smashes his lips against mine. Justin curls his other hand into my hair and yanks at the strands to tilt my head back for a deeper kiss. I shake my head and throw myself to the side, but Justin is one step ahead of me. His mouth covers mine again, ignoring the fact that I’m not returning the kiss. He nips and sucks at my bottom lip as I use what little air I have left to get him off me.
Justin ends the kiss and whispers, “I plan on returning the favor to your brother by sending videos of me coming insideyou. Every hole you have will leak with my cum, and I can’t wait to see Ryder’s face when you gag on my cock and suck me dry.”
I grimace. “You’re disgusting.”
He bares his teeth. “Not as much as you. Maybe I’ll even cut off three of your fingers and send them to him as a gift for taking mine.”
My eyes widen as he releases my hair and flashes his left hand in front of my face. Bandages cover three stumps where his thumb, index, and middle fingers should be.
“I’m glad he took them. You’re stupid if you think I’d ever let you touch me,” I snarl.
He chuckles and tears my leggings and panties down my legs. “Never say never, wife. Until then, I’ll take what’s rightfully mine.”
I cringe as he drags his tongue up my neck and under my jaw. He leaves wet kisses on my throat and cups me between my legs with his right hand.
“Get off!” I scream. “Dad! Please, help me!”
“No,” Dad says calmly. “If you had just been a good daughter and done as I told you, then this wouldn’t be happening right now.”
Justin ignores me and dips his fingers between my folds, finding my clit and smashing his fingertip against it in hard strokes that do the complete opposite of what he intends. Or maybe this pain is what he intended after all.
What happened in the bathroom at the restaurant was abhorrent and scary, but this is terrifying. Justin won’t stop at forcing me to give him a blow job. No matter how much I fight to get away from him, he overpowers me and has every intention of raping me as my father—who’s supposed to love and protect me—sits aside and watches.
“Go for the eyes. Throat. Dick and balls.”The memory of Ryder’s voice fills my head, reminding me I’d tried calling him.
My gaze drops to my phone on the floor several feet away. The screen is lit up and showing a connected call.
Ryder’s listening. He’s been listening this whole time.
Fuck. I’m sorry, Ryder. I’m so sorry you have to listen to this.
Angry tears sting my eyes, and I bite my tongue to keep from making any more sounds while Justin dips his fingers outside my entrance. He shoves two inside, then stops short when he feels resistance. The scream lodged in my throat lets loose when Justin pulls out the tampon and tosses it aside with little care before he thrusts his fingers inside me.
My mind blanks as Justin pins me against the wall, his fingers pounding into me as he kisses my neck like an animal. He grinds his erection against my stomach and moans with every thrust. I lock up, unable to move or close my eyes. I stare past Justin’s shoulder, at my father palming his erection outside his pants. He shifts his hips to get more comfortable.
Bile rises up my throat, and I raise my tongue to block the vomit from spewing out of me.
I’m tired of being scared.
I’m tired of men controlling me.
I’m so angry about not having any power over myself and my life.
No one is here to help me.
“Go for the eyes. Throat. Dick and balls.”
Tightening my hold on Justin’s shoulders, I use all of my strength as I knee him in the balls. Justin grunts and stumbles backward, his hands cupping his groin.
“You little bitch!” he wheezes.
I hook my arm back and swing, throwing all my weight into the punch. White-hot heat flares through my hand and arm as my fist connects with Justin’s throat. He falls backward and lands on his back with a gurgle. I climb over him and straddlehis stomach, not giving a damn that I’m not wearing any pants. Angry tears blur my vision as I punch him repeatedly. I put my all into every punch, hoping he can feel my hatred and anger.
Dad grabs me from behind and tosses me to the floor. I scream and straighten to sit up, only for him to grab my wrists as he crouches behind my head. He pins my arms to the floor and shakes his head at me as though I disappointed him by fighting back.
“Stupid girl,” he mutters.
