Hurt or Fuck

"Holy shit!". Clinton Hudson, abruptly stepped on the breaks right before he could hit the woman who'd suddenly jumped into the road. He was a slender male in his late thirties and with short brown hair.

"Hmm", Jason's brows furrowed as he looked ahead to find the familiar face of a woman who they'd almost run over staring before scurrying off. "Well, what are you waiting for?". He interrupted Clinton's reverie before the engine roared back to life.

"Sorry, sir".

The drive back was dead quiet.

Jason was often silent unless he couldn't avoid speaking. And people often complained that holding conversations with him was a hassle since he rarely made any changes in his facial gesture. Expressions were important when communicating after all.

But Jason's was always plain and unapproachable.

Although, the only person who had the guts to complain to his face was his mother.

After the burdensome conference had ended earlier, all he wanted to do was go into seclusion as he'd usually do. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option anymore since he now had to run his family's business.

'What a hassle'. Jason leaned back in his seat, his line of thought shifting to the woman from earlier. 'And what a small city'. His finger tips unconsciously moved to touch his bottom lip in recollection.

"Umm...is anything wrong sir? Should I head directly to the office or back to your place?". Clinton had grown accustomed to reading Jason's empty expressions after getting a hang of his father's similar disposition.

"I'm fine". He got out his hip flask from the door pocket before gulping down half of its contents. "Clint", Jason's hoarse voice was plain.

"Yessir?". He gulped.

"Who exactly do you work for?".

"Huh? You, sir", he felt sweat trickle down the side of his face as if knowing what direction the questioning was heading towards.

"Then why do you keep telling my mother about my personal matters?".

"Sir, I...", he trailed off thinking twice before denying it since his boss's temper was as unpredictable as the weather. "Forgive me".

"Make sure it doesn't happen again". He leaned back in his seat before looking out the window.

Neither one of them pushed further on the topic till they reached the highrise building that was their destination.

Clinton stepped out before opening the back door for Jason who walked towards the building. His hands buried in his trouser pockets as the breeze pushed through his black leather coat which clung to his broad shoulders.

Inside, he received greetings left and right from his staff before reaching the elevator. As the doors were closing, he watched Clinton rush towards it carrying a load of paperwork in his arms.

The driver who doubled as his personal assistant, used his foot to hold the doors open before stuttering in to catch his breath. "I swear I'm not paid enough for this", he mumbled and Jason placed a hand on his shoulder somewhat comfortingly.

No matter how nonchalant he seemed, he valued a lot of things regardless of not knowing how to fully express himself.

His father had died an unnatural death over two months ago so he had to step in as the CEO of the Timberlake Group. Before now, he'd mostly just handle the dirty work his father assigned to him—like some bot who could only obey orders. Although he didn't have any deep attachment to his father, his mother had fallen ill after hearing of his death, and the thought of losing his mother bothered him.

Although she was better now, the doctors had advised both him and Anthony, his younger brother to visit her frequently regardless of all the staff working in their family estate, she needed to be with her children.

Jason sighed before spinning his chair to look out the transparent glass wall that loomed over the entire city. Wealth was something he'd been born into so he'd never known the definition of 'insufficient funds'. But ahead of him was an even taller building, the one belonging to his father's rivals.

He wasn't the type to hold ancient grudges but Lord help him—if they decided to witch-hunt him in place of his father, he'd wipe them off the face of the earth.

He unconsciously cracked a finger before realizing the sudden urge to hurt someone was coming over him.

He placed both hands on the glass desk, fiddling and tapping. His whole body gradually began to itch...

'Fuck...it's happening again'. He'd done so many twisted things under his father's orders ever since he was a teenager and now whenever he couldn't balance his emotions....he had the urge to hurt someone.

Diane Lambert was a woman he'd personally hired to have sex with him the moment a phone call was made. Whether in his office, in a car, in his home, or at a social gathering.

Whenever he felt the urge to hurt someone, she'd take his mind off it with sex.

But she recently said he was too aggressive during sex and unromantic which made Jason remind her that she was merely a disposable latrine. Her job was to satisfy his urges and get paid while doing so, so what right did she have to demand his affection?

It all ended the day she tried taking a picture of them both while he'd been half asleep but forgot the flash was on. He'd broken her phone as well as her face and they'd never seen again.

Normally, he always left after having sex but was quite exhausted that day and asked her to leave while he took a short nap. Taking pictures of each other was against their contractual agreement anyway.

A few days later, she'd contacted him to apologize and arranged a meet up. It was probably due to the fact that he'd destroyed her acting career with his influence. Fortunately for her, he was in need of a sex partner and agreed to show up at the usual suite.

He wasn't a fan of bedding multiple women and that was why he made contractual agreements with whomever he was sleeping with.

Jason began to itch his wrist while wondering what his next move could be since his options were limited to either hurting someone...or having sex.

And he was out of alcohol...