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I bring my hand up to pluck and pull and roll her nipple, knowing those around us can see and are enjoying the show. I don’t acknowledge them. My eyes stay on her. She’s my focus.
I’m definitely hers.
Lifting the back of her ruined dress, I flash her ass in its tiny bikini bottom. “And what’s this?”
“A bikini, Daddy?—”
“That you shouldn’t be wearing. I like to unwrap you, but they have rules, and rules need to be obeyed,” I say. “Understood?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Staff are helping the groaning asshole on the ground.
“Did you lead him on, too?” I say, nodding to him.
She hangs her head. “He came into my room. You don’t share, Daddy.”
“No, baby, I don’t.” I turn her in my arms, pulling off the rest of her top, with her back and ass pressed up against me. I take turns playing with both of her exposed tits, the front of her bikini bottom on full display. The damn thing is microscopic.
“Don’t you ever wear anything like this again.”
“I thought you’d like it,” she says, leaning back against me and moving against the circular motion of my hands massaging her tits.
“Sir?”
A man in a uniform approaches. He tries hard not to look at Dakota.
“Yes?”
“There are drinks, dancing, and food in the main courtyard if you wish to join.”
I look around, suddenly aware that the others have already started to filter out of the area. I turn Dakota around to face me, pull her into my arms and kiss her, covering her tits with my chest—just barely.
The kiss is quick, one of ownership. Because that’s what she is. A possession. It doesn’t matter how much I want it, how much I shouldn’t. Right now, I have to show everyone I own her. It’s the only way to guarantee her safety.
Every one of them needs to buy the fact that I’m a kinky motherfucker, their kind of kinky, and that I’m taken with her. I want them to believe I’m playing the long game with Dakota Hunt. My claim now makes her mine. And they know I’ll pay cash for her.
In their world, that claim lasts for as long as I want. And when I’m finished with her, someone else will claim her, or she’ll go into the auction rounds.
Right now, they can look and admire and fantasize, but that’s all.
They can’t touch her.
To prove my intentions, things are going to get filthy fast.
By the time we’ve fled the island and they realize I’m not bringing her back, Malone will have done his job.
But getting her away from this fucked-up place comes first.
I just hope she survives me. I just hope I can hold back the monster I am because she’s Smith’s kid. She’s what I’ve spent years running from. And I’m not sure she deserves the depths of my fury.
No matter how spoiled she is. No matter how much she represents what I hate, the thing that took so much from me.
Dakota doesn’t deserve my wrath.
She didn’t hurt me.
But I can hurt her.
