Cats In the Cradle

7. Daniel

Yay 100 reads already! Thank you so much!!! I know sometimes it's hard to get into a new "series." Is it weird picturing baby Daniel as a horny adult? lol

There will eventually be a second POV.

This book is going to get a little dark. 😅 You've been warned.

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"You're a fucking whore!"

I screamed at her, after I pried her away from the guy with the baby hands and hauled her dumb ass into my car.

I was literally shaking with fury.

I knew exactly what she was doing, of course. She'd done shit like this so many fucking times, hoping for this exact reaction. Hoping I'd spank her til she bawled and then fucked her raw.

But she had never taken it this far.

They were practically dry-humping, with that fucker's comically small hands wedged under her mini skirt, kneading her ass like bread dough.

And this bitch smiled at me.

It gave me an instant flashback to that first night, when she begged me to choke her. When I started to second guess myself—because who the fuck was I becoming?—and she encouraged me to take it further.

With that fucking gorgeous, malicious smile.

"I guess I am kind of a whore, huh? He really wanted to fuck me, and I was telling him I might be game." She goaded me. "So then what does that make you right now, baby? Dragging me away from that guy and forcing me into your car? My pimp?" She mused innocently, knowing full well that I was seriously about to snap.

I was furious with myself more than I was with her, though. I knew from Day 1 that something was off with her. She was annoying and kept pressing my buttons.

I knew from Day 2 that there were some serious red flags. I didn't even know her at that point, and she was already starting shit with another girl, acting like she was my wife. But I was blinded by the amazing sex and the fucking hero complex. I was blinded by her giant, beautiful tits and her wild, erotic energy.

I was blinded by the freedom I thought I had. The freedom to be a complete asshole. An abusive, toxic asshole. To yell and scream and fuck her black and blue while she cried and begged for more.

But my mom had always said I was kind.

And that was all decidedly...unkind. Consensual or not...it was definitely not nice. Not me. Not truly.

So what the fuck was I doing?

Why was I trying to save this toxic, draining, mutually abusive relationship? There was no future for us. And any "insane chemistry" we had was literally just...insane. Unhealthy-insane, not magical-insane.

Insane-insane.

I abruptly pulled over on the side of the road, a couples miles away from her apartment complex now.

"Get the fuck out. We're done." I told her, still shaking with fury and sadness and regret.

And shame.

She looked around slowly, then looked back at me, still clearly amused. "Daniel, where the fuck are we? I don't even have my purse, since you fucking dragged me to your car before I could get my things." She asked me incredulously.

"I don't fucking know. But there's a shopping center right up the road, I think. Use a store phone for a ride. Or you can just walk home. It's not my fucking problem anymore. Get out of my car." I told her quietly, trying desperately to rein in my rage. I was not going to let her use me for her sick obsession with my misery anymore.

"I'm not getting out. Take me back home." She said petulantly. She leaned back into her seat and folded her arms. I was still staring straight ahead, but I could feel her eyes on me.

"Sienna, I am literally afraid I will put you in the goddamn hospital if you don't get the fuck out right the fuck now. You're wearing sandals. It's 3 PM. You can walk the 2.5 motherfucking miles back to your apartment, and then you will never have to see me again. Go fuck Tiny Hands all you want. Go make his life miserable, sweetheart. Have a wonderful, fucked up life. But I need you to get out of my life. Right now." I focused on breathing deeply, speaking calmly, not giving her the rage she was waiting for.

Like I said, she excelled at nearly every art form. And one of the art forms she had studied and perfected the best was "pushing buttons." She knew everyone's pet peeves. Everyone's biggest triggers. She made detailed mental notes of all the things you hated and begged her to never do, and she went out of her way to "forget" every single one of them.

As far as I knew, the only thing she'd ever listened to were my demands that she never fuck anyone else...and never ask me for unprotected sex again.

And thank fucking God we always used condoms, because if she—

"Fine. Then whatever, we're done. But you need to drive me home. I'm not walking home in this heat, Daniel... Because I'm pregnant."