When I didn’t reply, his expression darkened further. “Why?”
“I hate you,” I croaked, gathering the last shreds of my defiance. “I hate you—”
His eyes became pits of blue fire as he pounded me. “Is that right?”
I held his gaze, refusing to blink. “Yes,” I hissed, “I hate you!” I couldn’t let him know the unthinkable truth. He couldn’t know.
Suddenly, he slid out of me and flipped me on my stomach. Then he walked to his belt and bent to grab it. He folded in in front of me, making me know what was to come, before his large body dominated me from behind. His erection pressed against my buttocks, its uncompromising hardness both a threat and a promise.
“I don’t give a shit if you hate me. You’re fucking mine whether you like it or not.” The lashes and whips of the belt descended heavily on my ass, each strike fire licking at my skin. I cried out and tensed with each lash, and then my body softened with pain, needing the sex that would follow when my tormentor became my only solace.
When he was done, he tossed the belt away and slid inside me from behind with one thrust. He pulled my hair, yanking my head back so he’d consume me with a hungry kiss. I reveled in his taste. My backside was on fire, but it didn’t diminish my need and desire for him one bit. It intensified it.
He was swollen inside me again, and I shuddered with ecstasy that bordered on agony. I bucked into him, taking him deeper, needing him to fuck me, to claim me in the most primitive way possible.
With a howl, he pulled out of me and flipped me. Then he came all over me, marking my body with his bloodstained cum.
He got off me, and just like that, without giving me the usual orgasm or bothering to pick me up to take me back to the house or even covering me up, he started down the beach, walking away from me without a word.
I used his clothes to cover up before I went back to the house, but he was gone with the roar of the plane.
Chapter 52
Lina
A week, the longest week of my life, had passed and Tino hadn’t returned yet.
Arancia gave me a pitiful glance, hearing the question on my mouth before I asked it. “He’ll be back, Angel. You know he will.”
“I only want him back so he can take me home.” My jaw twisted. “He obviously no longer wants me.”
She snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Angel.”
“Stop calling me that.” She’d been calling me Angel since I’d known who Tino really was. While I didn’t mind before—because what was the point?—it agitated me now. “My name is Lina.”
“Your name is Angel. That’s what Do Bellomo calls you, and it stays that way. You know what? I think you like it much more than Lina.”
“Fuck you, Arancia.”
She strutted away in a white bikini. “You’re not my type,Angel.”
I growled. Fuck this whole fucking family.
I marched into the music room and picked up my violin. Shostakovich No. 10, Movement 2. I hit the chords with the anger roiling in me that suited this piece perfectly. Then, subconsciously, I switched to that Korean song in the Goblin OST show by Soyou.
I Miss You.
My eyes snapped shut as I swore, almost throwing the bow against the wall in frustration. How could I fucking miss him after all he’d done? How could his absence slice at me, ripping my soul to pieces like that?
How could I love him that much?
I restarted the angry piece, and again I switched toI Miss You, tears falling in abundance, desperation taking over me.
A distant roar flicked through me like a match lit in the dark. I ran to the window and saw it in the sky. Tino’s plane.
