Page 93 of Endgame
If only to see how this feels.
Slowly, I lower the spoon to the hot space between my thighs. Everett is a predator, tracking my movements. His jaw is the sharpest it’s ever been.
His watchful gaze is settled on me while he takes his cock out of his boxers. This whole scene is intense. It’s too much.
Everett doesn’t care that I’m so overwhelmed I can hardly breathe. He grabs the base, then he runs his hand over his big, throbbing length.
“Come here.” He cups the back of my neck, a possessive grip he uses to draw me closer to him.
My mouth hovers over the tip of his cock. My body stills, fear lacing around my lungs. I don’t think I’m breathing.
“Be good for me.” There’s longing in his voice. He blinks, catching himself. He’s trying so hard to hate me. “Don’t make me punish you more than I have to.”
“You like punishing me.” Resisting him is a challenge, given how he grips me. “You sick fuck.”
“Put the spoon in your pussy.” At his deadly whisper, my mouth snaps shut. Insides shudder. Clit throbs. “And fucking suck me.”
The request isn’t really a request. Not when he impales my mouth on his cock, lifting his hips to shove himself down my throat.
He’s too thick. Too overwhelming. Too deep.
I gag, fighting for my next breath. Fighting to understand why being demeaned by him lights up every last one of my nerve endings.
Whatever the answer is, it won’t change the fact that I’m starved for him.
Obsessed with him. With the satisfied sounds he makes.
My stomach flutters.
My throat works to accommodate him.
The first taste of his arousal has my eyes rolling back. A hum of pleasure mixes with my coughs.
“There you go.” He’s getting impatient. His throat bobs, his thigh clenches beneath my hand. But he isn’t punishing me. There’s no hiding the pleasure that rolls off him. “Such a goodgirl for me. My brat of a wife on her fucking knees. Taking my cock like that. Jesus.”
I hate him. I need him.
I want to obey him.
Everett’s brainwashed me. He’s into this—putting the end of the spoon inside my soaking pussy.
“Good girl.”
He’s conditioning me to listen to him.
“Work that hand faster.”
He’s demanding that I submit.
I do.
I’m trembling and gasping; the silver spoon is cold in my hot pussy. So good though. It’s so awful and so good.
Clenching around the spoon, I drag it in and out of me like Everett has ordered me to.
It’s driving me insane, rubbing the handle along my walls. Everything’s ten times worse or better or hotter when I findthatspot. That secret, dirty place where Everett stroked me yesterday.
“That’s it. I see you. You want it so bad, don’t you?” His hips grind into my mouth in a rhythm that shouldn’t be right.
