Page 18 of Endgame
“You haveoptions.” When I bring my face closer to hers, her breath quickens. She isn’t blinking. I don’t think I do either. “Two of them. Nothing more, nothing less.”
3
EVERETT
“Well, good.” Her eyes dart to the side, then back to me. She keeps worrying her bottom lip. “Everyone’s always telling me what to do, so at least I have options. A choice. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”
She’s blabbering, a panicked little thing, but I hear her, and the things she says give me pause.
This is the first time anyone’s given her a choice?Her?The spoiled princess, raised with the world at her feet? All this time, and she’s never had a say?
Given her family name and the mouth on her, I always assumed she had every option lying at her feet. That staying locked away in that mansion, living off her daddy’s money, was the life she chose for herself. Either that, or shoplifting when the mood struck.
My eyebrows draw together in confusion.
Impossible. I couldn’t have been wrong about her. Aboutthem.
The rumors circling about Aurora all sound the same…Winston treats her as his prized possession. Talks about her as if he loves her.
He tells every influential man who’ll listen that they’ll be lucky to marry his daughter. That merging their families will benefit both sides.
No, I wasn’t wrong about her.
I silence the voices urging me to pity her. They have no room here. “Lying won’t save you, princess.”
Her nostrils flare, throat straining against my palm. “I wasn’t lying.”
“You weren’t?” Her act won’t fool me. “What about stealing? Or, let me guess, you have a twin I don’t know about?”
The red in Aurora’s cheeks is the darkest I’ve ever seen on a person. Her jacket stretches over her tits.
I adjust my knee to press between her legs, shoving her skirt up as I do until Winston’s daughter’s pussy is hot, pulsing against me.
She must be wet too.
When I lift my thumb to slide along her bottom lip, a small moan escapes her.
I’m going to use her arousal against her.
“Cat got your tongue?” I raise an eyebrow. More fury and shame roll off her in waves. I can almost taste them. “Thought so.”
“You’re a weak fucking loser for hurting me like this.”
As a punishment for talking back, I rub my knee over her pussy. Her skirt and my gown are restricting, but I’m persistent. I’m also hard as fuck. Dying to feel her.
“Homeschooling did wonders for your vocabulary.”
Our foreheads nearly touch. Her soft whimpers brush my lips like a dare.
“Fuck you,” she wheezes. Between panting and the hold I have on her throat, breathing can’t be easy. “Fuck. You. How’s that for my vocabulary, Your Honor? Or would you preferYour Majesty?”
“You could call me that.” Proving just how much power I have over her, I pull up to my full height. I drive my knee harder into her cunt as I tilt her face up with my thumb. “When you write me letters from prison. When you rot in there for life. Either that, or I could dismiss the charges against you.”
“You would?”
My eyes eat up every inch of her face. Not because she’s beautiful. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. The moment I crushed a Clarke.
“Then you’d have to call meyour husband.”
