Preston starts undoing his belt buckle.
“What the hell? Is he—?” I wave my hand at the screen, where Kingston’s dad is now unzipping his slacks.
“Holy shit,” Bentley exclaims.
I don’t want to watch, especially when Preston takes his dick out of his briefs, but I can’t seem to look away. His cock is two inches in front of Peyton’s face, and she doesn’t seem surprised in the least. The way the camera is angled, we can see every damn thing right now.
“I’m well aware of the stipulations of your father’s will, Peyton. Don’t worry about my son; I’ll take care of it. Now...” Preston strokes himself. “I think it’s about time you apologize properly, don’t you?”
Peyton's hand goes to the top of her head. "Let me just take this off, so it doesn't keep getting in the way again."
Preston’s hand slams down on Peyton’s, preventing her from removing the wig. “No. Leave it on. Like I told you the first time I made you wear it, the wig makes it much easier to pretend you’re someone else. I don’t give a fuck if you’re uncomfortable.”
Peyton says nothing for a moment before hanging her head. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“Lose the coat.”
Peyton unbuttons her coat and slides it off her shoulders. I can’t tell if she’s wearing any undies, but she’s sure as shit not wearing anything up top.
Preston pushes his dick against her lips. “Good girl. Now, open up.”
Preston grabs the back of Peyton’s head with both hands and instantly starts shoving himself into her mouth, grunting as he roughly fucks her face. When she starts gagging and gasping for air, yet he makes no move to let up, I turn my head away, no longer able to stomach it.
“Turn it off. Please.”
Kingston reaches forward and slams the laptop shut. All three of us sit in complete silence for a few moments, processing the whirlwind of disturbing shit we’ve just learned.
“It’s all about money,” I whisper, turning to Kingston. “Your dad...Peyton...they almost killed me for money.”
Kingston’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “I don’t think it’s just about money, Jazz.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Kingston’s jaw works back and forth as he seemingly tries to formulate words. Whatever’s running through his head, he doesn’t want to say it out loud.
Bentley clears his throat. “Baby girl, Daddy Davenport wants the money, sure, but he also wants...you.”
“What?!” I squeak. “That’s...that’s...”
“Royally fucked up,” Bentley supplies.
“Yeah, that.”
“And unquestionably accurate,” Kingston adds.
My eyes find his. “What are we going to do?”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kingston look so furious. So...determined.
He swallows hard. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”