Physical abuse is nothing compared to the scars she’s left in my soul, scars it will take me a long time to heal.

But I’ll get there. I’ll build back my life, and she won’t be a part of it.

“Touch her and I’ll burn your studio down,” Dad speaks in a non-negotiable tone.

She stops right in front of my face. Of course, the threat to her precious art, the translation of her ego, would stop Mum. No, it’s Jeanine. She was never a mother to me.

Her nostrils flare as she glares down at me. For the first time in my life, I don’t bow my head down and leave. There’s no need to cry or to hide. My bloodstream is filled with adrenaline as I meet her stare with mine.

Dad comes to my side and holds me by the shoulder. “I expect you to leave the house immediately.”

“What? You can’t do that, my paintings and supplies –”

“Everything will be packed and sent to you tomorrow. You’re not allowed to spend another minute under the same roof as my daughter.”

“You don’t understand,” she hisses. “I have an exhibition. My family is expected to be there.”

“Your exhibition is none of our business.” He motions at the door. “Now, get out of my house.”

I should feel bad, a tinge of something, but she killed that part of me a long time ago.

Now, there’s a new me, and it’s no thanks to her.

 

 

36

 

 

Kimberly

 

 

I spend the next hour tossing and turning in bed and checking my phone like an obsessed freak.

Xander never responds to my texts.

I call, but there’s no answer.

Once, I read an article about the brain’s reaction when someone is scared. The first instinct is to run.

That’s what’s happening to me right now. I want to run to Xander’s house and find him. I want to run in the streets and search for him. If he’s fighting, I’ll pull him out of it and punch him in the chest for hurting his beautiful face.

If he’s drinking, I’ll confiscate the alcohol and punch him again for ruining his liver.

Okay, so maybe punching isn’t the right solution, but I’m nearly going out of my mind with worry here.

The showdown with Jeanine earlier didn’t put me out of my element as much as not knowing Xander’s fate.

Dark thoughts keep creeping into my mind. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s passed out somewhere and no one finds him? Worse, what if the wrong people find him?

I should call Lewis and –

A sound from my balcony jolts me. It’s like a bird or an insect. It happens again, and this time, I jump up from the bed.

I contemplate calling Dad, but it’s probably nothing that warrants waking him up.

Slowly, I slide the balcony’s door open. A gust of wind blows my hair back and seeps under my thin clothes, causing me to shiver. I’m about to peek outside when a strong hand wraps around my mouth and shoves me inside.

I shriek, but it’s muffled.

My limbs flail around and I try to fight, but then the rest of my senses kick in. Mint and ocean scent, the dimples, and his warmth.

Xander.

“Shh.” He throws me on the bed and kicks his shoes away before he follows.

And by follows, I mean he traps me underneath him, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand as his palm continues to cover my mouth.

The hardness of his body against mine sends shivers of pleasure between my thighs. The position is so intimate and close – so close.

“Is this how your fantasy starts, Green?” The glint in his eyes coupled with his dimples are a sight to behold.

I remember there’s something I want to ask, something I want to make sure of, but now that he’s imprisoning me like this, I’ve lost all thoughts.

I’m just glad he’s here, he’s safe, and he’s with me.

He’s the only thing that remains. His intense edge and his solid form. His body against mine, our breath mingling.

It should be forbidden to want someone this much.

To yearn for him this hard, even when he’s all over me.

I miss him already, and he just got here.

“Do you know what I’ll do to you now?” He hovers over me, his lips inches away from my throat.

I shake my head once.

He grins, the motion sly, and even his dimples appear sinister. “That’s the point. The fantasy is yours, but the direction will be all mine.”

He releases my mouth and I exhale harshly into the air. It takes effort to suck breaths into my starved lungs.

Xander yanks my top to above my breasts and I moan as he grabs one roughly.

“These perfect tits are mine.” His mouth latches on my nipple, teasing it against his teeth.

My back arches off the bed due to the strength of the stimuli. Is it crazy that I’m about to orgasm here and now?

No idea if it’s because of the position, the torturing sensation in my hardened nipples, or the fact that he’s dominating my being right now.

His other hand reaches between us and he shoves down my pyjamas and underwear in one go.

The tips of his fingers sample my tender folds before he cups me. “This cunt is fucking mine.”

“And if I say no?” I challenge, and it’s just that, a challenge. A way to rile him up because I might be going out of my mind with pleasure and I want him to give me his all.

To show me his true self – uncut, imperfect, but so utterly whole.

“No, as in it’s not mine?” His tone is calm, but his grip tightens around my core, creating delicious friction.

“Yes.”

“Oh, you fucked up, Green.”

He releases me for a beat to fumble with his jeans. “You know what will happen now?”

“No?” I don’t know why it came out as a question, but I’m too aroused to think about that at the moment.

“I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll only want to be mine. Now, tomorrow, and fucking always.”

Xander lifts both my legs so they’re resting on his shoulders. “Keep them there.”

I do, even though I’m shaking, my body whirling with that need for something, anything.

The build-up will kill me any second now.

He slams inside me so deep, I can feel him all the way inside. Oh, God.

My mouth opens in a wordless cry.

With my hands above my head, I’m too helpless to move or try to wiggle free – not that I want to.

It takes one thrust, one single thrust, and I’m screaming my orgasm.

He shoves a palm against my mouth, muting the sound as he powers into me. With every thrust, he hits a magical spot that drives me insane.

I don’t even come down from the first orgasm, and another one bleeds into it. My continuous shriek is interrupted by his rhythm. The way he’s muffling my mouth and pinning my hands over my head while owning my body is more than a fantasy, it’s undoing me.

It’s finding pieces of me I never thought were there.

It’s belonging in its truest, rawest form.

His pace escalates with a strength that leaves me breathless.

“You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.”

He releases inside me with a groan. I feel so full of him, it’s making me delirious.