“Should we leave?”
Annika lifts her head from my shoulder and whispers so the people surrounding us don’t hear her.
Her voice is sheepish, reluctant. Two traits that I would’ve sworn she lacked.
But then again, Annika has always proved that she’s the exception to every conclusion I’ve drawn about her.
In the beginning, I thought she was nothing more than a hyper, spoiled mafia princess who was too sheltered to understand how the world works.
And while some of that is true, I know for a fact that she’s been trying her hardest to forge past the image her parents and upbringing have tailored for her.
The process is slow, but she’s determined to gain back control of her life.
If her persistence in getting my attention at the beginning is any indication, then that determination will pay off.
I slide my fingers through her hair and lay her head back on my shoulder.
It’s been a week since I fully claimed her as mine, and I’ve been having this urge to constantly touch her, her hair, beneath her jaw, over her shoulder.
Anywhere I can reach.
However, that proves to be a problem, considering we have different classes, don’t share the same living space, and she still has to hide from her brother’s watchful eye.
“Does that mean we can stay?” she murmurs, her voice hopeful and trusting.
“I didn’t say we have to leave.” Despite an annoying group at the back who’s focusing on eating and being a loud nuisance instead of watching the film.
“I just thought all the noise would bother you.” She stares up at me. “I want to go out with you all the time, but not if you’re uncomfortable.”
Would you look at that?
My Annika has been learning my patterns with a speed even I can’t fathom.
She’s considerate of my character, has developed a liking for dates in quiet places, and doesn’t push when I refuse to comment further about my past.
Instead of antagonizing me, she understands.
Instead of pressuring me, she steps back.
And I know that must take effort, considering her persistence traits.
I stroke her hair and can’t resist inhaling the scent of violets. It flows through my blood, slowly but surely becoming a part of me.
“I’m not uncomfortable when I’m with you, little purple.”
I don’t see her reaction to my words, but I feel it in the way she presses tighter into my side, wraps her arm around my middle, and even leans into my touch.
She’s a myriad of colors and a splash of energy. A very expressive person, whether through her fluid body movements or her words.
If I was told I would be into someone like Annika a few months ago, I would’ve considered the possibility insane.
But while that was a blasphemous idea at the time, the thought of reverting to the life I had before her fills me with inexplicable rage.
And emptiness.
I’ve never minded that emotion before. The bursts of hollowness have been a constant since I crawled out of death’s clutches.
However, it’s not a welcome emotion now.
After the film ends, I wrap an arm around Annika’s waist as she chatters on and on about the plot, the characters, the actors, and the special effects.
Everything.
I’m more interested in how her tulle skirt swishes up her pale thighs with every move. Or how her top molds against her tits and stops right at the waist of her skirt.
I stroke the visible skin at her stomach, up and down in a torturous rhythm that’s affecting the state of my cock.
It doesn’t matter how many times I bind, spank, flog, or fuck her. The moment I’m done, I need more.
More.
And fucking more.
The worst part is that it’s not only about sex with Annika. It’s about her. It’s about the way she submits to my dominance, the way she’s a masochist to my sadism.
The need to feast on her is constant, intense, and infinite.
“Did you like it?” she asks on the way to the car park.
I press my thumb against her skin, then continue my rhythm. “Very.”
“And here I thought you weren’t a fan of the movies.”
“I wasn’t talking about the movie.”
Annika must notice the change in my inflection, because she pauses, her lips parting, and pink splashes across her cheeks and translucent neck.
“You…you…”
“Are you actually speechless?”
She releases a breath. “I swear I only become like this around you.”
I smile and pull her further into me when some kids run by us to their parents’ cars.
“What are you smiling about?” She pokes my side. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s entertaining.”
“Happy to be of entertainment.” She sulks, and it looks adorable as fuck.
So adorable that I teasingly flick her on the forehead.
She glares up at me. “No, nope, don’t even try to flirt with me.”
“Was that what I was doing?”
“Uh-huh. You’re just thinking of ways to strap me to your bed and make me beg.”
“Me?”
“Oh, please. I can see the sadism shining in your eyes, you know. Sigh. If someone says it’s hard to be your plaything, I would totally believe them.”
“You’re not my plaything.”
She freezes, that pink hue returning to her cheeks again. “Then what am I?”
“Mine.”
“Is there a difference?”
“I never wanted to keep my playthings.”
“Until me?”
“Until you.”
She pokes me again while biting the corner of her lip. “You’re saying and doing all the right things today. Not that you don’t on other days, but you’re not usually this…carefree.”
“I’m not carefree.”
“No one else would accuse you of that. But don’t worry, I’ll do the carefree part for both of us. I’ll take care of the things you can’t and vice versa.”
“And what are those?”
She wrenches herself from my hold and stands in front of me, then starts counting on her fingers. “I’ll plan all the dates and make sure there aren’t a lot of people around. I’ll plan birthday parties and invite our friends, but when I feel you’re annoyed, I’ll kindly kick them out. I’ll also talk to all the people on your behalf since you don’t like them. I’ll take care of decorations and pretty aesthetics. Oh, I’ll also dance for you, like a swan, though you’ll probably shred my beautiful dresses afterward because you can be savage. But anyway, that’s a breakdown of what I’ll do.”
I raise a brow. “What will I do then?”
“You can punch people if they annoy you. Though I prefer you don’t, but you said you need to purge energy, so I guess it’s fine once in a while or at the fight club. And oh, you can totally kidnap me out of any social situation if you feel I’m uncomfortable and have resorted to faking it. No one will mind if it’s you, because everyone is used to your blunt personality.”
I can’t help the smile that lifts the corners of my lips. An occurrence that happens more often than not around Annika.
“More importantly, we should talk about stuff.”
“What type of stuff?”
“Everything. I know you’re used to keeping your emotions in a vault, and I respect that. But since we’re in a relationship, you should tell me how you feel sometimes, so I can understand you better. Mom once told me that communication is the key that can make or break a couple and I don’t want to break us, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
“It doesn’t come naturally, but I will try.”
“Trying is a good start.” She grins then lifts an index finger. “Oh, and I forgot something very important. I will do all the cooking since you don’t know how.”
I internally wince. “We should probably outsource that.”
“But why? You like my food.”
Because you put effort into it, not because it tastes good.
“Is there something wrong with my cooking? Ava calls it horrendous and Papa flat-out ordered me not to cook anymore back home and Jeremy barely touches the dishes I make for him. And now, you said we should outsource it.”
I stroke her hair. “You can cook if you like. I just don’t want you to exert yourself.”
“Aw, really? I knew you were my favorite.”
“Don’t.” My tone hardens.
“W-what? What have I done?”
“Don’t say I’m your favorite when you tell everyone else that exact sentence.”
Her lips part, then clamp shut before she clears her throat. “You’re at the top of my favorite list, so don’t be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m territorial.”
Her eyes widen and then she smiles a little. “Wow. That was intense.”
I open the car door. “Let’s go to my place and I’ll show you what intense actually looks like.”
“Uh, I’m supposed to spend the night with the girls at the apartment.”
“No.”
“But, Creigh…”
“Either you come amicably or I throw you over my shoulder.”
“Territorial and a caveman. Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?”
“No.”
“It was a rhetorical question.” She releases a breath, then pauses when her phone beeps. Upon checking it, she scrunches her nose.
I step beside her to see what she received. It’s a selfie Harry took with me earlier today at the shelter as I was about to wash up.
Harry: I’m stealing him from you, Anni. Muahaha.
“I’m going to mess up his pretty hair next time I see him and he’s totally not getting any more skincare tips from me,” she mutters, then basically punches the screen of her phone.
Annika: He’s mine. Stay away from him.
“I thought being territorial was over the top,” I whisper near her ear and she jumps, then hides her phone.
“Uh, Harry is an antagonistic little shit and I just had to make a statement. He’s the admin of your fan club that keeps growing tremendously, and he kicked me out because of a ‘conflict of interest.’ It’s not that I’m jealous or anything. Okay, maybe a little.”
“Of a man?”
“He’s gay.”
“And I’m not.” I slide my fingers into her hair. “You’re the only one I want. Everyone else is just white noise.”
“Oh.” She blushes, then grins. “You’re really saying all the right things today. Be easy on my heart, okay?”
“Not unless you come home with me.”
She spreads her palms on my chest, touching, exploring, sinking her nails into a part a lot deeper than my skin. “And what do you have in mind for me?”
I grab her by the arse and slam her against my front, relishing the sound of her gasp. “I’m going to strip you until you’re only wearing this skirt and then I’ll shred it to play with your every hole. No, not play. Fuck. You’ll be taking my cock like a good little girl, won’t you?”
She nods frantically. “But are you going to hurt me?”
“Oh, I will.” I kiss the top of her head. “But I promise you’ll enjoy every second of it.”
