Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

I stop. Excuse me? I turn, glaring at her so hard my eyes feel like they’re
on fire.
“I don’t give a shit about what those ‘woke’ assholes try to tell us,” she
spits out. “There’s something mentally wrong with people like Olivia
Jaeger.”
I reach out, grab her by the collar, and haul her ass into an empty
classroom. She stumbles, and I let go, yanking the door closed behind me.
“It’s not natural, Clay,” she argues. “Just stop. Right now. I’m not letting
you throw your whole life away.”
I advance on her, and she backs up.
“Clay, you’re not gay,” she tells me. “She’s confusing you. You’ve been
through shit, and you’re an easy target.”
“Shut up.”
I drop my bag to the ground, and she bumps into a desk, quickly stepping
away.
“So, you’re telling me we’re going to raise our kids next door to each
other someday? You, a man-hating dyke with a shitty haircut and your sperm
donor offspring, and me with my kids asking why Auntie Clay is groping the
babysitter?”
I grab her by the collar with both fists and slam her up against the wall.
She whimpers and tries to push me off, but I grip her hair at the scalp
with one hand and dig my fingers into her stomach, pinching the skin there
with the other.
She cries out. “Clay!”
“Shhhh…” I whisper over her lips.
She squirms, but her hair is wrapped around my fingers, and she’s
trapped.
“Stop,” she snivels.
But I’m not listening. “If you ever speak to me this way again, I will
knock your teeth out.” I stare down into her eyes, a new energy filling me
that kind of scares me, but I won’t fucking stop. Nothing comes between Liv
and me. “Do you understand?”
Fear fills her blue eyes, and I squeeze harder as she tries to shift out of my
grasp.
“Do you understand?” I bellow.
“Clay—”
But I’m doing the talking now.