Page 73 of Endgame
“Oh God.” I’m begging him to stop. Begging my body not to come from this.
“Please.” It’s a word. A breath. His thrusts steal those from me too. “Please.”
“Call me God again.” The vein in his neck bulges.
I’m being claimed like I’m actually his possession, over and over and over.
“Call me God…” My climax winds tighter in my stomach with every stroke of his cock. “And I just might havesomemercy on you.”
“Fuck”—gasp—“your”—moan—“mercy.”
Everett’s response is his relentless thrusts beating my pussy from the inside. His hand comes around me, between my thighs.
“No, no, please.” His fingers find my wetness, parting my lips. Rubbing my clit. He’s making being forced feel so good. “Stop it. Stop it. I said I don’t want to come for you.”
Sharp teeth bite into my shoulder. His hot breath, his skilled tongue. They’re teasing me.
He bites and licks and sucks until I’m bucking against him. Until I can’t stand it.
This orgasm…it’s so intense. I’m about to lose my mind.
The butt plug is in my ass to ensure that I won’t be able to escape any of this. This pain. This fullness.
“Come.” He’s rubbing me faster. In circles. Tapping on my sensitive clit as he pounds me from behind.
“No.” This spot, he’s hitting over and over again. I can’t take it. “I won’t come for you. You do nothing for me. Nothing.”
“Stop being such a fucking brat for one second and”—thrust—“come all over”—his hips slam against my thighs—“my”—he groans, melting my insides—“cock. Fucking milk me.”
In his weakest moment, when he’s hanging over the edge, I hear a crack in his voice. A need.
My husband means to hurt me with his demeaning words. He’s trying to be cruel. He can’t.
And that’s the worst part of it all. I can’t unhear it now, the human side of him. It’s there, in how he’s railing me slower now. His fingers and each stroke of his dick inside me. Each time he demands entrance, my will to fight him withers.
I’m useless. Powerless.
And yet I’m special to him. I feel it, even if he’ll never say the words.
“Fuck,” I curse. I come so violently that Everett groans into my skin.
“That’s it.” His pounding is unlike before. Erratic. Harsh. Making me one with the bed. “Taking your punishment like such a good girl. Such a little slut. Begging for my cum.”
“I’m not?—”
Then he lifts me, just a little, by my hair, angling my head until his face hovers above mine. When Everett kisses me, it’s possessive. Claiming.
This time, it’s his turn to bite my lip, making me bleed.
Sick arousal has my cheeks heating up so my nipples pull tight.
I moan and cry out as he sucks my blood into his mouth. I stare at him, wide-eyed, when he tips my face up and spits his blood and mine into my mouth.
Before I can spit it back at him, he pushes my face back to bed and clamps my mouth shut.
“Swallow.”
Too floaty to argue, I gulp down his spit. My blood.
