Father

by Clarissa Wild

  Father

  Clarissa Wild

  Contents

  License Notes

  Books by Clarissa Wild

  Description

  Music Playlist

  Note from the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of Wicked Bride Games

  Prologue

  The beginning

  1. Naomi

  2. Naomi

  3. Naomi

  4. Max

  Excerpt of Dirty Wife Games

  Prologue

  Part I

  1. Hyun

  2. Hyun

  3. Hyun

  More books by Clarissa Wild

  About the Author

  License Notes

  FATHER

  By Clarissa Wild

  FATHER © 2017 Clarissa Wild

  Cover art by Clarissa Wild’s Booming Covers

  Copy Editing by Editing4Indies

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book are eighteen years of age or older.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Books by Clarissa Wild

  Standalones

  Mr. X

  Twenty-One (21)

  Ultimate Sin

  Viktor

  Dark Romance

  Delirious Series

  Stalker & Killer (prequel to Stalker)

  Wicked Bride Games

  Dirty Wife Games

  New Adult

  Fierce

  Blissful Series

  Ruin

  Erotic Romance

  The Billionaire’s Bet Series

  Enflamed Series

  Bad Teacher

  Visit Clarissa Wild on Amazon for current titles.

  Want to get an email when my next book is released?

  Sign up here and receive four free stories too: http://smarturl.it/newsletterbooks

  Description

  Confess your sin.

  People call me Father, but I prefer Frank because I’m the worst preacher you’ll ever meet.

  Days spent completely wasted pull a number on you, especially when you’ve got a truckload of baggage that comes with it.

  Until this beautiful girl in the back of the church takes my breath away.

  … And we end up committing sacrilege in the confessional.

  Did I mention I’m filthy?

  Bad doesn’t even begin to describe me, and after one taste of what she’s got to offer, I want more.

  Too bad having a dirty mind isn’t the only thing we’ve got in common …

  Our past is laced with sin.

  Contains disturbing situations, strong language, and graphic violence.

  No Cliffhanger. Complete at 72000 words. Standalone Romance.

  Music Playlist

  You can listen to the playlist on Youtube!

  “Nobody Speak” by DJ Shadow ft. Run The Jewels

  “Till It’s Gone” by Yelawolf

  “Get Away” by DJ Paul ft. Yelawolf & Jon Connor

  “Daylight” by Yelawolf

  “Devil In My Veins” by Yelawolf

  “Shadows” by Yelawolf ft. Joshua Hedley

  “Iron” by Woodkid

  “About Her” by Malcolm Mclaren

  “Ooh La La” by Goldfrapp

  “Get Some” by Lykke Li

  “Cold Cold Cold” by Cage The Elephant

  “Ain’t No Grave” by Johnny Cash

  “Going UpState” by Ritual Howls

  “Get Up” by Dorothy

  “Raise Hell” by Dorothy

  “Black Ajax” by Locksley

  “Boots Of Chinese Plastic” by The Pretenders

  “BLKKK SKKKN HEAD” by Kanye West

  “Voodoo In My Blood” by Massive Attack

  “Kiss It Better” by Rihanna

  “Deep Six” by Marilyn Manson

  “Personal Jesus” by Marilyn Manson

  “So Sophisticated” by Rick Ross ft. Meek Mill

  “Hustle Hard” by Ace Hood ft. Rick Ross, Lil Wayne

  “Believe Me” by Lil Wayne ft. Drake

  “Shit Just Got Real” by Die Antwoord

  “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” by Johann Sebastian Bach

  “William Tell’s Overture: Final” by Rossini

  Note from the Author

  THIS STORY IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND NOT ASSOCIATED WITH A REAL CHURCH OR RELIGION. IT DOES NOT FOLLOW ANY RULES OR MAKE ANY SENSE FROM A RELIGIOUS PERSPECTIVE. FRANK IS NOT A PRIEST BUT A PREACHER. THIS STORY IS PURELY WRITTEN FOR FUN.

  This book is not for everyone.

  It’s filthy. It’s vulgar. It’s downright offensive.

  But it’s oh so damn delicious with a capital D.

  If you are easily offended, please do not read this book. If you’re prudish or extremely religious, definitely don’t read this book.

  But if you like a bit of dark humor mixed in with raunchiness and brawling, then read on.

  You’ve been warned.

  Prologue

  A druggie, a criminal, and a preacher walk into a bar.

  I know you’re expecting a joke here, but there is none.

  Well, at least not yet.

  With a smirk on my face, I sit down on a stool and nod at Chuck, the bartender, who shakes his head at me when he notices me. “Save it; I don’t wanna hear it,” I growl. “Gimme a whiskey on the rocks.”

  “Hi to you too,” he growls back, chewing on a toothpick as he turns around to grab the liquor. “You know, I could save you time and just give you the bottle.”

  “No, I’m good. I prefer booze when it’s slow and painful,” I retort.

  He snorts and shakes his head again. “Sometimes, I really wanna tell you to get the fuck outta here.” He grabs a glass and tosses in some ice cubes then pours my drink.

  “But then you’d be missing all that sweet cash,” I reply.

  He slides it my way. “You found my weak spot.”

  “That’s my job,” I muse, taking a sip. The kick immediately hits me in the guts, but it only makes me want to take another. I’m a sucker for pain.

  “Maybe you should go easy on yourself tonight,” Chuck says.

  “You don’t have to look out for me.” I put down my drink and look at the cold moisture gathering on the outside of the glass. “I’m a lost cause anyway.”

  “That ain’t
true, and you know it.”

  I shrug, taking another sip. I fucking hate talking about this shit.

  “Everybody needs someone to look out for them once in a while.”

  “Yeah, well, I got it covered,” I say, blowing out a sigh. “You want my money or not?”

  He nods. “You know I damn well do.”

  “Then stop talking and pour me another.” I shove my glass forward and stare at him until he grabs the bottle again and starts pouring. “Keep going.”

  “You got anyone to drive you home tonight?” he asks.

  “No. But I know you’ll get me a cab.”

  He smiles when he realizes I know him all too well.

  Right before the whiskey hits the edge of the glass, I hold up my hand, and he stops. I take a big gulp of the whiskey and let out a breath. “Fuck, yes. Exactly what I needed.”

  “What you need every damn day of the week, you mean.”

  We both laugh.

  However, the smile disappears from his face the moment two shadows block the light.

  “Hey, you there.”

  I don’t reply. My name isn’t fucking ‘You there.’

  “You deaf or something?” one of the guys behind me says, but I just keep drinking.

  Meanwhile, Chuck turns and starts washing the dishes like he doesn’t know who they are even though he damn well does. They come here every other Friday, trying to start a fight with a random guy so they can shake him for cash.

  This time, they picked the wrong one, though.

  “Hey, motherfucker. Turn around.” One of them taps my shoulder.

  Frowning, I put down my drink and glance over my shoulder, still not answering their catcalls. “Got something to say?”

  Two ugly fucks stand in front of me. One with a bald head covered in swastikas and the other covered in pimples that are bursting as he talks.

  “Yeah, who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?”

  “None of your fuckin’ business,” I reply, taking another sip of my whiskey.

  The little pimpled one mutters, “Jesus, isn’t he some kind of pri—”

  “Who cares,” the bald one growls. “He can’t be here. This place is ours …” the bald one growls.

  “Is your name on the sign?” I ask, raising a brow.

  “The what?” the pimpled one says.

  “The sign. Outside.” I point at the door. “You’re welcome to go look if you need some help.”

  “Fuck you,” the bald one curses, showing me his gold teeth.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty lady,” I muse.

  He presses his thick thumb against my chest. “Shut your fuckin’ pie hole, you Bible thumper. Now give me your fucking money or else …”

  “Or what? You’re gonna hit me?” I say, unimpressed.

  “Yeah … and worse,” the pimpled one threatens.

  I gaze at Chuck who seems to be hiding his laughter in his sleeve while he tries to dry the dishes. “Hey Chuck, did you hear that? They’re gonna hit me. Me.”

  Chuck makes a face and rolls his eyes, and I burst out laughing. “Good one.”

  The bald one gets so mad, he grabs my collar and almost pulls me off my stool.

  This is a point of no return for me.

  Normally, I would let them off with a warning, but he crossed a line right there.

  No one, and I mean no one, touches my collar.

  That thing is sacred.

  “Chuck …” I mutter.

  “Frank”—he sighs—“can ya not—”

  “Go,” I interrupt.

  “Money or pain. Choose,” the bald one growls while Chuck slowly backs away into the supply room.

  Grinding my teeth, I say, “Neither.”

  He lifts his fist ready to attack. Right as it comes close to my face, I lean sideways and narrowly avoid it. I quickly grab his wrist and hold him in place as I jam my knee in his face. Then I kick him away fast enough to protect myself against the knife the pimpled one just pulled.

  He tries to slash me with it, but I block it and grasp his wrist, twisting it hard enough to break. He screams, and I punch him in the jaw, making him fall backward.

  The bald one gets up and grunts as he tries to bulldoze me. I jump away from the bar just in time, and he rams his head straight into the wooden bar, knocking himself out. I laugh as the other one gets angrier by the second, his face so red I’m almost worried it might explode. That’d be a sight to behold.

  “You motherfucker! You’ll pay for that!” the pimpled one screams, grabbing his knife again.

  He thrusts it at me, slashing along my cheek. The blade leaves a small slit, and blood seeps down my face, but I don’t even notice the pain.

  All I can focus on is grabbing him by the back of the head and shoving his face down onto an empty glass on the bar. He squeals as the shards enter his skin while I slide his face along the bar like I’m serving up some arrogant little shit with a side order of bald scum.

  “Think you can pull that trick on me? Not today, bitch,” I whisper into his ear, ramming his face against the wood again.

  He fights back by throwing punches into the air, so I quickly grab his hands and force them behind his back.

  “Didn’t expect that, did you?”

  The asshole under my grip whimpers from the pain, and as I tighten my grip, he begins to cry. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks.

  “Sorry, my ass,” I hiss, holding him down firmly. “Who else did you steal from this week?”

  “No one,” he says.

  I twist his pinky until he squeals like a girl. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie to a preacher?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We only stole two dollars from Chuck.”

  “Chuck!” I yell. “C’mere.”

  As Chuck scurries back from the supply room, I hiss into the boy’s ear, “Where’s the money?”

  He sniffs. “In my back pocket.”

  I glower, not wanting to get my hands anywhere near his ass, but I need to make a point here. Guess every once in a while, I have to sacrifice myself for the greater good.

  I reach into his pocket with disgust and take out two one-dollar bills, placing them on the counter. “There you go, Chuck. They’re yours.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “But that won’t cover the broken chairs.”

  He points at the mess behind me, and I make a face at him. “C’mon, Chuck, work with me here.”

  He shrugs and holds up his hands. “Whatever.” Then he goes back into the supply room. “Tell me when you’re done.”

  “Tell him you’re sorry,” I growl at the crying little shit.

  “I’m sorry!” he shrieks as I twist his other pinky.

  For a second there, I wonder if I should take it one step further, but that would make me just as bad as they are. I need to set an example. That’s what preachers do. Or so I’ve been told.

  I’m not a priest, and I don’t pretend to be one. I’m just your average joe preaching to the people. However, I won’t stand for bad behavior.

  “Good,” I growl, lifting him off the bar and throwing him near his buddy. “Now get the fuck outta here and don’t come back. And take that sorry-ass racist with you,” I spit, grabbing my drink.

  “We won’t,” he mutters, grabbing the bald one by the shoulders. Being a shrimp himself, I know dragging a bull of a man outside is a tough job. Especially when no one gives you a hand.

  I don’t even give a shit. I just watch, mildly amused by the silliness, while I sip on my whiskey.

  “You done now?” Chuck calls out.

  “Yeah,” I reply, still staring at the door until the two have disappeared.

  “Fucking hell, Frank. Why? Why do you always have to mess up this place?”

  “I’m sorry, Chuck. I know I’m shit ‘cause I attract a lot of flies.”

  He snorts while shaking his head then grabs a broom and walks to the front of the bar, holding it out to me. “Here. Help me clean.”

  I nod a
few times and take another sip of my whiskey.

  “You’ve got something,” Chuck says, “here,” and he points at my cheek.

  Without looking away, I grab a napkin and wipe the blood off my cheek, throwing it down on the floor with the rest of the trash.

  “Really?” Chuck raises his brow at me.

  I shrug. “What? It’s getting cleaned up anyway.”

  He pushes the broom into my hands and says, “You’re one weird-ass motherfucking preacher, you know that?”

  I laugh and take my last sip then put down the glass.

  “You never change,” he adds.

  I grin as we get to work on the broken tables, chairs, and glass. “Nope. Never have. Never will.”

  1

  I run. Faster than my legs can carry me. Faster than the air my lungs can breathe. Faster than the speed of light. But no matter how fast I try to be there, I’m never on time.

  In the distance, I hear a scream.

  The sound reverberates in my ears, over and over again, until I hear nothing but her voice screaming my name.

  “Frank! Frank! Help!”

  Faster, faster.

  Seconds feel like minutes, and when I finally arrive, I’m too late.

  Two men have her arms locked in their grip. They’re dragging her to a car.

  Another scream comes from the car, this one much higher and louder.

  It pierces my heart, crippling me, but I won’t give up.

  I’ll never give up.

  I run toward them as fast as I can. But before I can catch up, the two men have already pushed her into the car and jumped in after her. Right as I touch the back, they hit the gas, and the car shoots away right from under my fingers.

  The last thing I see is the faces of the people who put their trust in me. And I failed them.

  Everything fades in front of my eyes, and I black out … only to wake again in the darkness covered in sweat. Rain pours down from above as I stare at the woman lying on the dirty ground underneath my feet.