Page 46 of The Mourning Throne
Morgan sat on the very edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know. Is it?”
“Yes..? I’m—I’m sorry, I’m really not sure.”
“It’s not. Keep going.”
Ten minutes later, the shorts were off. Then the boxers. Ollie looked like a toddler trying not to be seen—one hand over his pathetic, flaccid dick, knees practically clamped to his throat.
“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Morgan asked, tapping the knife against his hand.
Inch by inch, Ollie pulled on the panties. He had to wriggle. Theydidfit, somehow. The lace pinched his hips and made the bruises look deeper. Red and purple blooming through the sheer pink.
How the fuck did Morgan know his size? Dead-on, too. Was that just skill? Or practice?
Skill was one thing. Fine.
Butpractice?
Thatpissed him off.
Honestly, this wasn’t even that good.
Not the dramatic kind of surrender that got under Lex’s skin—just pathetic, nose-running obedience. The high from last night fizzled around the edges.
He was bored.
Already.
That was the worst part.
Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe Ollie’s crying face was the wrong kind of ugly. Or maybe Morgan wasn’t in the right mood.
Lex bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying not to yell at Ollie to move faster.
Where was the screaming? The begging?
Why the hell did this feel like achore?
“He’s already wearing them,” Lex muttered, adjusting the frame. “Now what.”
Morgan didn’t look. Didn’t blink. Just held up a hand. “Stop.”
Just that. And Lex felt it like aslap.
“Are you—are youfucking kidding me?”
Morgan’s eyes flicked toward him, dull as stone. “Don’t start.”
That tone dug under Lex’s skin and curled there—cold, annoying, thrilling. Impossible to argue with.
Morgan cracked his neck. He glanced up at the ceiling for a second before looking back down to Ollie. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Uncomfortable. I’d like—”
“Simon didn’t say. Take them off, and put them backon.”
Ollie’s shoulders shook, the tears falling faster down his face, dripping off his chin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words crashing together. “I forgot. I—”
“Do it.”
