Page 127 of Endgame
“Princess.” I grind my teeth, keeping my desire in check. “Haven’t you figured it out already? No means no.”
“But you haven’t heard me out.” The pout she’s giving me is real. She isn’t being bratty or trying to trick me.
She’s just being herself. Young. Beautiful.
Motherfucking innocent.
The hell she is.
“Don’t care.” Except I do. Winston and Molly are adamant about hiding Aurora’s biological parents’ identities, and I want to know why. Secrets are power. I’ll unravel theirs. “You’ll learn fast that being good doesn’t mean I owe you anything in return. You’re being good because you’re my wife. You’re my plaything, here to serve my needs.”
Truth is, she’s so fucking good that I’m having trouble breathing.
From the moment I stood in the doorway, she’s had me in a chokehold.
My fingers crave her. My tongue. My cock.
Her slender fingers on my calf—I need her to keep doing that.
If she insists, really insists, I might crack. I would give her almost anything.
“Okay.” That one word sounds so sad coming from her.
My entire body reacts to her beautiful surrender.
I shocked her, but I’m the one who feels electrocuted.
Refusing to act on it, I wrap a lock of her hair around my fingers and pull her closer to me. I lean forward, casting my shadow over her. “Tell me about your day at the hospital.”
She winces, blinking in confusion. My soft tone doesn’t make sense when I treat her this harshly.
“I had a great time,” she finally says, her tone flat.
Our bodies are as close as they can be. Her arms are pressed between my thighs, the front of them leaning on the armchair.
I bend another inch toward her.
Her breath hitches when she tries to free herself from my hold. I’m going to jerk off to this moment for the rest of my life.
“A great time? Really?” I hiss. “Lying to your husband won’t fucking fly in this house.”
“Fine. It was the worst.” A flare of defiance flashes in her narrowed eyes. She wasn’t planning on this. On me getting under her skin. That makes two of us. “Why bother asking if you already know how it went?”
Of course I know. On the way home, I read Cormac’s detailed report.
The babies she held, I heard about them too. Her tears, fear, and reluctance were also part of his report.
None of that pleased me. Not really.
Hearing it from the source is what I’m after.
Her pain speaks to my soul. So does owning her.
My temples throb. I don’t think this has anything to do with my revenge anymore.
I tug on her hair. “You’re forgetting your place.”
“I’m sorry, I—” Another lie rises in her throat. She thinks better of it, licking her lips. When I’m done with her today, they’ll be swollen. Red. Mine. “As far as panic attacks go, it was bearable.”
