Page 88 of Endgame
Aurora turns around. Her submission is a plea for me to be a decent man and finish what I started.
Of course I’ll make her come, but I’m not decent. I’m just as filthy, as depraved as my wife.
That’s why I’m making her wait.
“Breakfast.” I tear a piece of whatever food is closest to me. A pancake? Fine. Whatever. “Right now.” I tap my knee for her to come closer.
“Everett.” That pleading voice will be my undoing. It’s as dangerous as the sight of her crawling to me. “Please. I need to?—”
“Open up, and I might let you.” Dangling the syrup-soaked pancake slice near her mouth, I hold Aurora’s chin.
Her eyes squint briefly before she decides this fight isn’t one she’ll win. She lets me dip the pancake between her teeth. A moan escapes her as soon as it lands on her tongue, eyelashes fluttering.
My nostrils flare. My ribs are about to crack.
Feeding her—my collared, kneeling wife—shouldn’t be sexual. Shouldn’t pull at my heartstrings.
All logic fails me the moment she closes her lips around my fingers, sucking the syrup off them.
Unable to help myself, I dart my tongue out, swiping it over what’s left of her arousal on my lips.
I want to fuck her mouth with my cock. Want to do it with the pancake still there.
Instead, I pull out my fingers.
As starved for food as she is for sex, Aurora chews and swallows the pancake within seconds.
My pulse roars in my ears. My heart hammers in my chest.
She won’t get to see that part of me. The part that she holds in the palm of her hand.
Never.
“Suck them fucking clean.” Shoving my sticky fingers into her mouth gets me more of her humiliation. More of her wide eyes. Choked cough.
My inner battle turns into a bloodshed the moment Aurora licks me, then gulps the syrup.
Her throat works. Her tongue slides over my fingers again. Between them.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This attraction. Being pleased with her.
Tears streak down her cheeks the deeper I push my fingers in her, mercilessly.
“Enough.” My chair scrapes the floor.
The distance from Aurora clears my head.
By some.
“Will you please…” she starts again, voice cracking. “Please…”
Her misery is a thing of beauty, even when she enjoys the pain.
She could’ve waited to be excused. Could’ve gone to the bathroom and gotten herself off there.
Yet here she is, choosing this. Choosing to beg me to make her come.
Me, the man with the power to zap her.
