Page 28 of Endgame
In swift, harsh movements, he tears my jacket off me. Throws it on the floor.
We’re both on his bed now, me sitting on his lap, thrashing, needing to break free from his grip.
My fight gets me nowhere. Worse than nowhere. It makes Everett’s cock harden against me.
That’s when I stop wriggling.
That’s the moment I realize that I’m really, truly fucked.
5
EVERETT
As we wait for her parents to pick up the phone, Aurora tenses in my lap. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me.
She hasn’t just stopped fighting me. She’s seeking comfort.
From me.
I don’t get to wonder why when Winston picks up, his ugly face appearing on my screen. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Everett?”
His eyes are squinted, his face beet red, his jaw twitching. He’s unraveling, practically growling at me.
I drink in the sight.
“Winston.” The moment his name leaves my lips, his wife shoves her face into the frame, green eyes blazing. She opens her mouth to interrupt, but I’m not having it. “Molly.”
“She doesn’t belong to you,” she spits out.
Strange choice of words.
As strange as the fact that she looks incredibly put together. Not a blonde hair slips out of her low ponytail. Her mascara is immaculate.
Anyone who cares about their children would’ve cried by now. She or her husband should have red-rimmed eyes. Worry lines would’ve wrinkled the corners of their eyes.
Their hair would’ve stood out in every direction.
The Clarkes are simply inconvenienced. Upset that I took their…belonging.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” A reflex has me tightening my grip on Aurora. My arm flexes around her. A demonstration of power. That’s all there is to this touch. “She does belong to me. Our marriage will be officiated tomorrow. Aren’t you going to congratulate us?”
“You’re not marrying her,” Aurora’s dad growls.
“Shut up, Winston.”
Another strange thing happens. At my clipped voice, Aurora’s tense body relaxes.
She’s leaning into me.
The weight of her gaze is there, heavy and burdensome. Begging me to…what?
She’s still fucking with me. Still playing me. This has to be it.
So why does it feel real?
She should be running to them for help. They’re her parents.
Then again…
