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She wastes no time when I reach for the button on her jeans and pop it open, then pull her zipper down. Kayla helps shimmy her way out of her pants and her lacy thong, and when it all drops to her ankles, she toes off her boots and steps out of the pooled fabric. Who would have thought wide-leg jeans coming back into fashion would pay off?

I bite down on my lip as she straddles my waist, and I am thankful that the scrub pants I am wearing are elastic. She uses her free hand to release my cock, and when it springs free, she lifts and hovers herself over me, but she hesitates for a moment.

“I’m clean,” I tell her, hoping my word is enough.

Never have I wanted to fuck someone bare before, but I need to be inside her—she is all I have thought about for days. I hate when my brain latches onto something; it goes around and around in circles. But there is a high chance that once I fuck her, I will move on. I can’t help it. When I see something new and shiny, I need it, but then once I have it, I lose interest.

She exhales and whispers “fuck it” and impales herself on my cock in one move.

My eyes roll back in my head and I see stars; it could also be from the lack of oxygen from holding my breath while I waited for her to decide what she wanted to do next.

She rocks forward and back a few times, then increases her pace right before the thumping on the door starts. Kayla pauses and looks over my shoulder toward the door.

“It’s just Brawley. I hope you are ready to run because I am a dead man if you can’t.”

“What did you do?” she asks, continuing to rock shallowly in my lap.

This position doesn’t give me the room to fuck her the way I want, but it allows me to piss Brawley off, and he had it coming. Clay had a meltdown over Kayla putting his name on the form. Clearly, she knew it would piss him off, and it did, but Brawley took his side. What made it worse was that he did it in front of everyone.

Nixie gets the final say in who is paired, and I don’t know what Clay did to piss her off this week, but she told him he was in. That maybe he could use it to get what he wanted, whatever that means. Clay can do what he likes, but Brawley has always had my back, and his actions made me feel less than. I don’t like that feeling.

I explain it quickly to Kayla, ending with, “—so that’s what he did, now it’s time to get loud.”

I reach under her shirt and slip my hand beneath her bra, twisting her nipple between my fingers. She cries out, getting wetter instantly, so I twist again, and this time I lean forward and swallow her cries.

The beating gets louder.

“Is this really how you want to play it? This just got dangerous for you, Vero. Tick tock, motherfucker. I will be here waiting—you can’t stay in that room forever.”

“Oh god,” Kayla moans as she increases her pace.

I don’t know how much longer I can hold off, and I’m grateful when she clamps down hard around my cock. Removing my hand from up her shirt, I wrap it around her neck. She made a joke about leaving bruises, and I want to be the first. I squeeze hard and buck up into her as her tight little pussy strangles my cock and her face turns red. I fuck her harder, and when her lips part and her body starts to tremble, I squeeze a little tighter. The edges of her lips take on a blueish tinge, and a gurgled sound spills from her as she comes. I release her neck, and she gasps for air as I come right alongside her.

She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine, and I smirk when I see the white skin between her tattoos is bright red from my fingers. Knowing she will be bruised tomorrow has stroked my ego.

Something hard hits the door, and I chuckle. “That is our cue to leave.”

Kayla pulls back. “How are we getting out that door without him murdering you?”

“We’re not. There is a hidden exit over there—it’s how I get in and out. While he is beating that door down, we have a few minutes until he changes tactics and comes for that one.” I turn my head to the door. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good!” I yell, and whatever Brawley is using to beat on the door with gets louder.

Kayla slowly stands, and so do I. Then I tuck my cock away and help her put her jeans back on. She slips her feet into her boots, and I bend down and pick up her thong, balling it in my free hand.

I show her where the door is, and she pushes against it hard, causing it to pop open. We both move into the tunnel, and I hurriedly lead her out, not knowing how long it will take for Brawley to see that we are gone.

We get to the exit, and as we push through the doors, I hold my breath expecting him to be there already. When he isn’t, we run down the ramp, and I pull Kayla toward the cornfield. It’s my worst option, but my only option, and I get full-body goosebumps the second we reach the edge of it.

I hate this place.

Not the same way people hate the dentist or eating vegetables. I hate this place in a way that makes no sense. Yet there is something about it that sits wrong in my brain, no matter how many times I tell myself it’s fine.

Cave is in there; he’s always in there.

That’s the problem with Cave—he rarely leaves. Everyone else goes home, but Cave stays. You never hear him move, and you never see him coming. I have been on this island for three years, and I have never once successfully rattled him—it bothers me more than I will ever say out loud to anyone, including Brawley.

I’m not scared of anything. I’m crazy and everyone knows it, but my aversion to Cave is something no one knows about.

“Why did you slow down?” Kayla asks, pulling on the cuff—and by extension, my wrist.