Page 21 of Endgame
When her lips part to scream, I press her cheek gently into the wall next to the closet, covering her mouth to quiet her.
“I can’t have you making a sound either. Thank you for the reminder,” I say. “Wouldn’t want my bride to cause a scene.”
She jerks under my touch. “Stop it,” she groans, the words muffled but unmistakable. “Stop it.”
She’s trembling. Angry. Scared.
Good.
The throbbing in my cock turns into a pressure that’s impossible to ignore. I rock my hips into her tied hands.
God,yes. The friction helps to clear my mind of the thick lust clouding it.
Problem is, now I can see what’s in front of me.
Aurora. Not crying.
She isn’t crying.
Anyone else would be losing their shit at a time like this, but she isn’t.
Curious.
Absolutely not. Nothing about her is interesting.
I reach into the closet and grab a second tie. Fast, so she won’t get to scream, I nudge it between her lips, getting bit while she attempts to stop me.
I shove it deeper into her mouth. The silk material is there, on her tongue, when I tie it around her head.
She looks beautiful like this.
Silenced. Gagged. Shaking with either rage or fear, I can’t tell.
“Now, be good.” I drag her toward the closet. Her heels scrape loudly against the wooden floor on the short way there.
“Mmmmm!” Her eyes widen as she screams something I can’t decipher. Another protest, maybe. Another demand.
None of it matters.
“You’re going to wait for me here.” Shoving her inside, I hold her by the throat just long enough to make sure she won’t try to escape while I talk to her. “I hope you don’t have to use the bathroom anytime soon. See you in three hours.”
Her groan is silenced by her gag.
I slam the heavy closet door in her face, cutting off her muffled cries in an instant.
Click,and it’s locked.
Robe. Keys.
I’m halfway across the room when my phone vibrates inside my pocket.
Winston.
I send it to voicemail, then text him.
Me:If you or anyone on your behalf comes anywhere near this court to take what’s mine, you’ll be charged with abduction and false imprisonment.
Winston Clarke:Pick up your damn phone, and I won’t.
