Page 3 of Bred Hard

Her gaze hardened at my words, and it turned my lopsided smirk into a wolf’s grin.

In a sloth-like movement, she rose to her toes, her button nose and lips inches from mine. “Father will never believe you,” she said, sucking in her cheeks as she lowered to the floor.

“I know.” I inhaled. “But making tears seep from your little whore eyes will remedy that lost victory.” I let my words drip into her ears before biting the soft flesh of her earlobe.

She jumped back, nearly tripping over herself as she caught my gaze. I loved it when she did that, the way she looked at me with an inkling of hope and desperation. But she deserved none and nothing got my blood flowing like the way her throat lurched with a hard swallow of uncertainty.

“Silas, Tabitha.” Our father’s voice broke the stretch of silence and we found his gaze.

He motioned us to sit, and the little lying whore found her rightful place next to our father. With an eyebrow arched, and her nose pointed high to the heavens, she held the imaginary crown sitting on her head in place, and I wanted nothing more than to rip it off. I took a seat across from them and settled in as I waited for the shit show to begin. It’s been four years since I’ve been home and the annoyance running through my blood was at an alltime high. I kept my eyes on Tabby as I nursed another drink. She talked about college, and all her stupid-ass ideas for the company once she graduated in the spring. A small part of me wanted to drag her into the hallway and seal her mouth shut with tape while I fucked the audacity out of her little worn-out cunt.Never say never.

Twenty minutes into dinner and stale conversation, father raised his chin and narrowed his gaze as he stared at the empty seat beside me. Everyone was here for the big announcement, except Sawyer.

“Will he be joining us?” Father asked with a mouthful of chicken.

I stabbed my fork into the sauteed vegetables. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t really care for the pony-fuck show, but—”

“Language!” our mother hissed before raising the glass of wine to her lips.

Twenty minutes in and she’s on her second glass. Classy. Real fucking classy.

“Honey, don’t bother scolding,” he said as he swallowed down the meat and scraped his fork against the porcelain plate. “Fix your attitude and maybe you’ll see yourself at the head of my company sooner than you think, son.” He nodded and returned his attention to the messy concoction of lemon chicken and potatoes sitting below his eyes.

“Doubt it. Not with that a rotten plague of bitchy flesh attached to your ball sack,” I mumbled under my breath.

Did I want him to hear? Yes, but I didn’t have the fucking energy to argue with the asshole. I was jet-lagged, pissed off, and hadn’t blown a load in days because of the stress of work and coming home. We continued to eat our dinner. A cacophony of useless conversation hammered against my eardrums and I had a hunch to get up and leave. I almost did until I caught the little minx whispering in our father’s ear like a damn five-year-old. Father’s brows arched, then creased as his eyes tightened at the corners before they shot open.Fucking hell.I sat back in my chair and stabbed the chicken with my fork as I leveled a glare in their direction.

With his expression dull and lips pursed, he wiped his napkin on the corners of his mouth before lowering it to the table.Oh, great. Here the fuck we go.

“What lies does she have you believing now?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ve been home for less than twenty-four hours and you’re already tainting the fucking air with your—“

“Don’t you dare talk to your sister like that.” he deadpanned.

“Or what?” I braved his gaze. “We both know you’re never going to put that mouthy bimbo brat at the head of the company. Right, Mom?”

“Silas,” our mother snapped

I slid a smirk up one half of my face. “Silas, my ass. Aren’t you the one who always tells me not to worry about Tabitha because daddy’s a sexist stingy bastard who wouldn’t let anyone with a pussy and tits near his empire?”

“Out,” Father said as he rose to his feet.

I stood and slammed my napkin on the table, refusing to give him another chance to speak. The shackle of his gaze burned the side of my face as I rounded the table to leave the dining room. Although my pulse slammed into my eardrums with anger, a small part of me was more than happy to get sent to my room in the middle of dinner. As I leaned against the wall in the long hallway, my phone buzzed.

SAWYER

On my way. Be there in 15.

SILASHurry the fuck up.SAWYER

Pissed off father already?

SILASThat little whore of a sister of yours.SAWYER

She’s your sister too.

SILASHate her.SAWYER

I’m sure the feeling is mutual…

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