Oh. “I think he was just offended that you never mentioned him to me.”
“He’s clingy like that.”
“Eli? Clingy?”
“Yeah, he won’t leave me alone and it isn’t due to lack of effort on my part.”
“From what I’ve seen on his IG, he’s only like that with you. Otherwise, he’s more like Kill, absolutely detached while giving the exact opposite image.”
“And how do you know that?”
“We’re mutuals.”
“Mutuals?”
“Oh, right. I forgot you don’t do social media. Being mutuals means we follow each other.”
“You follow him?”
“Why not? The point of social media is to follow people.”
He narrows his eyes. “Unfollow him.”
“No.”
“Annika.” The sound of my name in his deep, rough voice is nothing short of a command.
“Stop being a tyrant. Besides, I’m following Remi, Bran, and even Landon. Not to mention Nikolai, Gareth, and Killian. Do I have to unfollow them, too?”
“Preferably.”
“Might as well tell me to delete my socials.”
“Preferably.”
I snort. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re so out there that it pisses me the fuck off.” In a flash, his fingers squeeze my jaw.
I can see the darkness creeping into his features. The air shifts with his earnest stare, and his not-so-subtle plan of laying me on his lap and extracting his punishments from my skin.
But we’re not done talking.
“You can always start your own social media and stalk me,” I suggest. “That way you’ll know everyone I’m interacting with.”
“Not in this lifetime.” His thumb strokes my chin, back and forth, with heightening intensity.
“Worth a try.” I pull the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand and wipe at the dry blood. “Why do you fight?”
“I have too much excess energy that I can only purge through inflicting violence and pain.”
A craving.
An impulse.
Part of who he is.
But why is he the way he is?
Instead of asking that, I go for, “What happens if you don’t purge it?”
“Nothing good comes from pent-up pressure.” His lips thin in a line. “If you’re considering options to change who I am, save it.”
“I don’t want to change you.” I want to understand you.
The last words get stuck in my throat before I can relay them and I stroke my finger over the cut on his lip. “Does it hurt?”
He makes an affirmative noise, his eyes getting lost in mine as his thumb continues the maddening back and forth on my chin.
Back and forth.
“Really?” I start to pull my hand away.
Creighton grabs it and places it back on his face. “You can continue.”
I grin. “Are you sure it hurts or do you just want me to touch you?”
“The second.”
“Wow. You’ve come a long way from when you refused to let me touch you.”
“I don’t like giving up control,” he admits in a low voice that gets carried by the wind.
“It’s in good hands with me.”
“Doubt it.”
“Why?”
“You’re a brat.”
“I can be good, too.” An idea springs to mind and I perk up. “What if I prove it?”
“Prove what?”
“That you can give up control for me and I’ll treat it well.”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“Trust me.” I drop to my knees between his legs.
The harsh surface of the rock hurts my skin, but I don’t pay attention to that and, instead, focus on my mission.
In the semi-darkness, Creighton shares the aura of a warlord, half naked, bloody, and fresh out of a battle.
Not to mention that we’re in a public place where anyone can walk by. Yes, we’re hidden from the main street, but someone could wander back here.
The old Annika would be freaked out, but I couldn’t care less.
Not when Creighton is here.
My fingers latch onto the elastic of his shorts, a bit shaky, but not to the point of being a fumbling mess.
At first, he lets me pull at the material, but then his hard voice vibrates in the air. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Bringing you pleasure.” It takes me a few moments to free his cock.
I pause as my small hand barely contains his girth.
What the…