Sick Bastard Read Online Free Page A

things I don’t want it to, at least not with him.
    “I'm busy working, if you hadn’t noticed. I'll be with you in a moment.” But he doesn't go.
    “Now,” he growls. What the fuck is wrong with him? I don’t know who this man is or what his problem is with me, but to keep from causing a scene, I agree to go with him.
    I look at the men at my table …hell, at all the tables. We’ve become the center of attention. The back area of the restaurant is dark and dingy with old rusty lights keeping the hallway poorly lit and shrouded in darkness. Being back here alone with Mr. Marx gives me the creeps. Taking a few more steps down the hall I stop, but he doesn’t. He takes my hand and begins dragging me to the back door, which leads into the alley. This can’t be good.
    He doesn’t let me go even when I try to pull away. He just shoots me a warning look when I try to dig my heels in to stop. My heart’s in my throat and my stomach’s in knots as he shoves the door open, which obviously wasn’t even locked, and pulls me into the alley behind the restaurant. All kinds of crazy shit flies through my head. Is he going to rape me? Kill me? No, he can’t. Too many people saw us together so there’s no way he’d do such a thing, at least that’s what I’m hoping.
    I begin to shiver, and it’s not from the temperature, but from the dark look on this man’s face. He makes no move to do or say anything. He just looks at me, breathing heavily and twists his watch around his wrist like it’s a calming exercise. He looks deranged and unhinged as he continues to do this repeatedly.
    As freaked out as I am, I also have a big mouth that gets me into trouble quite often, and just when I’m ready to let loose, I reign myself in and breathe through my nose a few times before I speak. “Mr. Marx, what is it that you want from me?” I say in a defeated tone, “And please, would you stop with the watch? It’s unnerving.”
    “Sure, if you’ll stop letting those fucking perverts touch you,” he fires back.
    Where is this coming from? He doesn’t even know me so why is he making an issue out of this? Maybe it’s not so much to do with me, but something else. Maybe he just doesn’t like to watch women get groped, but who knows. “I appreciate your concern, I really do,” I say as he continues to glare at me, “but what I do and how I do it is none of your fucking business. I can handle them and I can most definitely handle myself. So, your concern is appreciated, but not needed.” I assure him.
    “Watch your fucking mouth,” he barks at me.
    “Watch your fucking mouth,” I counter, giving him as much attitude as possible. So he can curse, but I can’t? I hadn’t realized he was my father. He's pushed me too far at this point. “If that’s all, Mr. Marx, I've got customers to take care of.”
    I start to walk away, but he's not finished with me yet. “I wish you'd have more respect for yourself. Those pricks only see you as a piece of ass. It's wrong. You should never give them the impression that you are.” I stop and whip around to see his face, but he’s not angry now. He looks… sad? And was that pity I detected in his tone? He thinks I don’t have respect for myself? I respect myself more than he'll ever know. He steps closer to me, bringing us face to face, although I have to look up. There’s no anger there because it’s been replaced with something else―lust.
    Before I can process his intentions, his lips are on mine. I know I should stop him because really, he’s a perfect example of a man who would be cocky enough to kiss a lion, even if it would tear his face from his body. He’s dangerous. Normally, someone like him would have me running away as fast I can, but something about his brand of arrogance has me giving in, and grinding into him. I have no shame at this moment as he moves me up against the brick wall. He’s a sexy as fuck puzzle that I want to piece together, and I love a good