A loud crack splits the air as I stumble slightly and lift a hand to my cheek. Dad’s hit me before, but never this hard, never in such a rage, and never where the kids might be able to see. I lick my lower lip and feel the copper taste of blood, then shake my head and stand back up to my full height.
“Mom?” Skylar asks uncertainly. She sounds terrified, and in
stead of breaking my heart like it normally does, it makes me angry.
It means they saw.
And the only way to rectify the fear they’re feeling is to do the unthinkable.
I pull an arm back and slap Dad as hard as I can, watch him stumble, and then fall onto the couch, a look of shock and appreciation on his face once he’s had a chance to shake away the disbelief.
“See, that is why I love you so damn much,” he says with a grin. “Because you’re not afraid of me, but I’ll tell you what, little girl. If you ever raise a hand to me again, you’ll find out how much of a bastard I can really be.”
“Tell them to go outside,” I shoot back defiantly.
Dad tilts his head to the left, looks me up and down for a moment, then sucks his teeth as he gets back up to his feet.
He walks past me and heads toward where the living room opens into the foyer and looks down at our children.
“You mind what your mother tells you to do,” he instructs them, putting a hand on his hip.
The children quickly scramble out the front door, with Richter tightly holding onto Cleo’s hand and dragging her out behind him. She was crying, yelling that she didn’t want to go, but she’s not the hero of our story.
I am.
Dad’s hair is balled in a fist in my hand. He has me on the couch, legs spread open, his tongue buried deep inside of me and I’m trying so hard not to feel good about what he’s doing to me.
I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t, but the body will react to things that bring it pleasure no matter how desperately the person that it belongs to what’s nothing more than to just die.
He moans as he pulls his tongue out of me and gets to his feet. Leaning down he crushes his lips against mine, kissing me like a hungry animal, and uses a finger to force me to open my mouth. I think of biting him for just a moment, but I don’t. Now is not the time to be a hero, now is the time to give him what he needs.
His tongue makes its way into my mouth and I try not to cringe. Not because he’s kissing me like this—I’m used to it. No, it’s because I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue, in his hunger, and I don’t know if I can take it much longer.
He must take notice because when he finally pulls away, he chuckles lightly then begins to undo the buckle on his pants.
“You know I have to punish you for being a bad girl, don’t you?” he asks in bated breaths. “How long did you think you get away with mouthing off to me before I turned you over my knee?”
What?
Dad pulls his belt loose with the flick of his wrist, and when his pants fall off, he steps out of them. I can see his erection pressing against his briefs and I look up into his eyes.
Is he going to fuck me or flog me?
* * *
Whack!
Another lash from his leather belt. By this point I’ve counted twenty and he shows no signs of stopping. I’m sure that I’m bruised and bloodied at this point, but I won’t give in. He wants me to beg him to stop and I won’t do it.
“This is getting boring now, Darbs,” he says as he reaches for my hair and pulls my head up roughly. “You about ready to move on since you suddenly seem to be such a little bad ass?”
I grunt and as best as I can, causing him to let go. He slaps my bare ass with his hand and as I move to get to my feet, he tsk, tsks, and pulls me back down onto the couch.
Onto him.
“Lift your head up and say your prayers,” he instructs nonchalantly.