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“I told you not to call me that.”
“But—”
“Shut up and listen well, Annika. You’ll never get rid of me unless you shoot me again. But this time, make sure you aim straight at the fucking heart.”
She cries harder.
I pretend her tears don’t affect me as I hydrate her, make her eat, bathe her, and let her fall asleep cocooned in my chest.
With a knife in the bedside table. A knife she can grab at any moment and use to kill me for real.
If she does, then so be it.
Because I meant it. Death is the only thing that will keep me away from her.
36
ANNIKA
Aweek has passed.
A whole week of being trapped on an island where it’s only the two of us.
A whole week of being tormented by Creighton, brought to my knees in submission, stuffed with toys, forced to orgasm. Denied orgasms.
All of it.
A whole week of me fighting and negotiating and pleading. I tried to reason with him, to tell him that not only are my parents worried sick but his must be, too.
I tried to knee him in the balls again and run, but that only got me whipped until I cried while I orgasmed, and then he fucked me.
He punished me and brought me to the edge, where the only thing I could do was moan his name and hate myself.
Fully. Thoroughly.
I hate myself because no matter how much I want to leave, I want to stay, too.
I want to sleep cocooned in his arms, I want to be fucked by him to the point of insanity. I want to wake up all deliciously achy and marked.
I want him to put those marks on me and then carefully slather them with ointment. He’d kiss them, too, making me shiver in both pleasure and self-loathing.
Because how can I enjoy the company of a man who vehemently refuses to let us start anew?
How can I find pleasure in this situation when my family is probably suffering because of this?
I had a nightmare about my mom’s mental issues declining last night and couldn’t go back to sleep.
After I tossed and turned, Creighton woke up and he fucked me back to sleep.
He’s been an insatiable beast since we got to the island. No matter what I do, he’d be breathing down my neck like a pervert with the stamina of a sex demon.
If I jog on the shore in the morning, he joins me and then fucks me on the nearest rock.
If I try to cook, he annoys the hell out of me, standing near like the Grim Reaper, and then after the meal, he eats me out on the kitchen table.
Sometimes, that happens during the process of making food.
If I’m trying to practice ballet to keep in shape, he sits across from me, watching my every move like a hawk. Then he tears at my tights and mounts me on the floor.
