BILLIONAIRE Island: Idyllic Mischief Read Online Free

dismissive rage of an inflamed toddler tossing away a stuffed animal. Indie scrabbled up the bed toward the headboard, pulling the quilt and her own limbs around her as a shield from wherever his need to vent would carry him. No way she was lying supine on the bed, laid out for his wrath.
    Blood was still dripping heavily, all over her best Hotel Collection linen and Brad yanked the sheet untucked and pressed it hard to his wrist to staunch the flow. Holding the Egyptian cotton tight, he kicked off his shoes furiously.
    “There is no way I am sleeping in this bed beside you tonight,” Indie said, coldly, in a white hot fury at my impotence in this partnership.
    “Good then get out. Why don't you get out of my fucking house and fucking life completely?”
    “Fine. But tonight, you aren't sleeping here,” Indie shot back.
    Brad's eyes narrowed to slits as he momentarily ran through his options for vengeance.
    He grabbed her arm and yanked it so it popped in pain and she was sure it had emerged from its socket when she could get no purchase to push herself up. Pulling her body by the one loosened limb, he dragged her off the bed and she stumbled to one knee, trying to find a footing as he pulled her half on her knees, half stumbling along on her crooked feet back through the bedroom door. Across the hall, he shoved the bathroom door open and yanked her through, bashing her head into the door jamb and grazing her back across the sharp wood.
    With one hand he pushed her hard into the basin, pushing her head down and holding her body still with the force of his drink-sodden body against her, grinding her stomach into the edge of the china bowl. With the other hand he opened the cabinet and yanked something out. The sound of squirting from a can, he pushed her pajama bottoms down and the squirting sound again mixed with the cold dispersal of crème into her crack.
    In one move, Bradley unzipped his pants and rammed into her. She reached out both arms screaming no, then just screaming as the pain in her shoulder seared through her. He was panting and groaning and he shoved his cock in and out of her dry cavern. Then he pulled it all the way out and she bent further with relief that it was done. Then she realized, and the scream was soul-piercing as he rammed into her asshole. He had missed that tightly puckered entrance with the crème and spritzed most of it into her pussy. The pain of those walls collapsing was unbearable. He rammed into her until he finally groaned with relief, pulled out and zipped himself back up.
    He lifted his wife like a doll, gouging at her torso with his raging fingers, every bit of burning anger channeling through those angry prods, he mangled her over the edge of the tub to crash down on the solid iron, banging her head and hip joint as she landed on the bottom.
    Brad stood over her, eyes blazing as though what had happened was entirely her fault, then turned and left the small room, slamming the door closed with a final statement. The noise of him adjusting a chair or some other device in the handle to barricade her in the bathroom was the last thing she heard before everything went silent.
     

 
    Chapter Three
    The searing pain through her stomach was such that she had never experienced. The cut of a knife from deep within and the agony of life wrenching away from its support system. She didn't think that much blood could have been held inside a uterus, but it came pouring out in great gashes with each mind-blowing contraction of agony in her core. Every time she thought it was finally over and collapsed curled up in the unforgiving bathtub, the surge of pain welled even more strongly and her body regurgitated another swell of blood and mucus between her legs.
    Indie was too weak to even call out for help, although it would have been pointless. Brad would be passed out rock solid for hours, not even New York City sirens stirred him when he was drunk. Certain she was going to die alone in that tub