Page 66 of Outlaws of Tulsa

His smile widens. “You know I’ve seen everything.”

I grab one of the remotes off the end table and chuck it at him. He closes the door and it bounces off the wood. I wait for the familiar reminder I’m in prison.

Click.

Locked in.

Fuckers.

On shaky legs, I ignore the pounding in my head from whatever pills Koyn shoved down my throat, and make my way into my bathroom. I strip out of Koyn’s comfortable clothes and frown at my reflection. I’m littered in bruises and teeth marks. His cum is smeared on my thighs, dry and crusty. Tears well in my eyes.

How could he do this to me?

I turn on the shower and hug myself. I’ll need to come up with a new plan. Last time was pure luck that I managed to escape my dad’s greedy clutches. Now, he’ll really fortify this place and his efforts in keeping me detained. I step into the shower and let the hot spray wash away all the pain. So much pain. It’s like all the horrible men in the world find me. They want to feed on me. They want to use and abuse me.

Quickly, I wash my hair and then my body. My pussy is sore from all the pounding it took from Koyn and my asshole is still tender. I wonder how long I’ll wear the reminders of him on my body. After my shower, I go into socialite daughter mode. Hair. Face. Nails. Skin. I spend an ungodly amount of time getting myself to Daddy’s specifications. He only accepts perfection. Just ask my mother. She never quite could achieve the level he required, hence why she took her own life. Then, his obsession went from her to me.

The bruises on my neck and tits are too dark to cover up. Not that I want to. A small part of me craves to rebel against my father. To let him know I went out into that world and was used by men. It’ll be the worst fuck you. With a smirk, I search through my closet for the most revealing dress, to showcase all my bruises. I settle on a fitted, red silk gown. It hangs off the shoulders and dips low on the chest. The slits are high on each side of the long skirt, revealing all the fingerprint bruises Koyn left behind. I step into some nude Jimmy Choo pumps and thendress up my ears and wrists with glittery jewelry. A pang of loss hits me in the gut when I realize my tiara headband was left at Koyn’s.

I blink back tears and straighten my spine. I can’t be weak. Not here. I walk over to my door and knock, knowing Renaldo will be waiting. With a soft click, he unlocks the door and rakes his greedy stare down my front.

“Cover those,” he snipes.

“I already tried,” I lie. “Now move, asshole.”

He allows me to push past him. I storm down the hallway with false bravado. Inside, I’m trembling. I don’t want to see my father. I don’t want to be here. Carefully, I make my way down the stairs and into the dining room. Daddy sits at the end. A chair is placed beside him. All the other chairs have been removed. A half empty bottle of cognac sits on the table and his face is ruddy, which means he’s halfway to being fucked up.

Great.

He turns his head and points at his cheek. Like the trained dog I am, I walk over to him and plant a wet kiss there. Before I can pull away, his hand captures my throat. His bloodshot eyes rake over my exposed flesh, making him snarl with fury.

“Koynakov did this to you?”

Koynakov?

“Yes.”

“Motherfucker.” He caresses my neck. “To get back at me?”

I tug from his hold and rub away the soreness. “What? No. Why would you say that?”

“Francis, bring dinner. My daughter is famished.”

I’m used to his ignoring me or changing the subject. This time, I don’t mind because it means he’ll leave me alone while we eat.

But what happens after we eat our meal?

After an exhausting dinner watching my dad get drunk as shit and ranting about how fucking rich he is, I managed to escape back to my room. Even though I was locked back inside, it felt like a haven. I stripped out of the dress and threw on a nightgown before falling back into bed. I tossed and turned, dreaming of Koyn.

Warm hand on my stomach.

Up, up, up to my breasts.

I moan and push my ass out, seeking the feel of his cock pressed against me. He ruts against me, his fingers tweaking my nipples. I beg and plead for him to push inside me. To come and make me his. He ignores my pleas, but instead slides his hand between my thighs. Rubbing and rubbing until I’m whimpering with pleasure.

More.

I need more.

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