Page 47 of The Mourning Throne
Nowshit was starting to get good.
Ollie was way faster the second time around.
Less than thirty seconds to take off the panties and put them right back on.
Lex was surprised the fabric didn’t rip.
“Simon says,” Morgan started. “Tell me who bought that for you.”
Ollie pulled the bra from the bag, voice so soft it barely stuck. “You?”
Morgan tilted his head. “Why is everything a question.”
Switching hands, the knife moved like a metronome. Ollie fumbled.
“Y—you. You. Definitely you.”
“Wrong.”
Lex grinned. “Simon says, tell me you like it.”
The look Morgan shot him—all narrowed eyes and pursed lips—was enough to know he’d said the wrong thing, at the wrong time.
“I—I like it. I like it, I—”
“Simon says,shut up,” Morgan snapped.Stillstaring at Lex.
Lex looked back to the screen.
Whatever. Let Morgan be pissed. Keeping Ollie washisidea, and he should be allowed to have fun too.
“Simon says, tell me why you deserve this,” Morgan murmured, waving the knife toward the bra. “And no more stuttering. It’s irritating.”
Ollie choked on a sob, tried to swallow it. “Maybe because I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time,” he said. “I don’t know. I’m sorry,I don’t.”
Morgan hummed. “Fair assessment. I’ll let it slide.”
Where the hell did my Morgan go?
Lex clicked stop on the recording, pocketing his phone.
“Put him away,” Morgan said. He slid the knife into the case. Rubbed the back of his neck. “I have work to do.”
Lex flopped onto the bed hard enough to bounce. The mattress groaned beneath him like it might snap—but he didn’t give a shit.
God, if theframebroke, it would’ve at least been somethinginteresting.
“Whatwas that, Morgan?” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It put me to fucking sleep.”
Morgan didn’t even look up. Just tapped the trackpad on his laptop, the glow of the screen sharp against the dark. “There are things you need to learn. Tonight was not for us, and I should have made that clear from the beginning.”
“Felt like a punishment.”
“It wasn’t.”
Morgan’s fingers moved again. Tap, pause, tap. No doubt trying to draft another work email.
It was almost 10:00P.M.
