Page 81 of Endgame
Her surrender gets under my skin.
How can something as beautiful, as hot and tempting as her, be a part of something evil like the Clarkes?
Shaking it off, I place her hairbrush in her hand. “There”—thrust—“you”—slam—“go.”
“Stop.” The nails of her free hand claw at my forearm. Her pussy clenches, soaking me down to my balls.
“Stop.” Aurora’s thighs tremble, the sign of an upcoming orgasm. “Please.”
“Your hair.” Both of my hands are back on her hips, my cock slamming into her one relentless thrust after the other. “Brush it. You’re not”—I pull her ass higher, burying myself so deep she screams in pain—“coming down to breakfast looking like that.”
There’s nothing wrong with her hair. Even bedridden, even sticking to her face, it’s beautiful.
Being corrupted suits her.
But lying to her is part of my revenge. Unsettling her further while my cock rams into her cunt is precious. Her skin burns with humiliation.
“I won’t come, Everett.” The things her small gasps and sass do to me are infuriating. My teeth gnash. “Fuck me. Demean me. Hurt me. I won’t come.”
I pummel mercilessly into her, a suitable punishment for existing.
“Look at me,” I snap. “Look at me while I fuck you. While I ruin you.”
My cold eyes and clenched jaw are what get her attention. Her obedience.
Whimpering and moaning, she obeys. She uses the hairbrush, struggling to run it through her hair.
Every flinch, every gasp, I devour it.
“Come.” I slide a hand to her front, spreading her pussy lips. Rubbing.
“I won’t.”
“We’ll see about that.”
When I slow down, it isn’t so she’ll have a reprieve. I push my middle finger inside her, between my cock and her walls.
Her tightness is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. This rough, depraved sex is ungodly.
Too bad I’m not here for my pleasure.
“You were saying?” Once my finger is soaked, I pull it out. I circle her taut clit that throbs under my fingertip. “Hmm, wife? Repeat that for me.”
“No,” she says, though we both know what’s coming.
This orgasm is taking over her. She breaks for me, and the moment she does, my world comes to a halt.
Her reflection entrances me. Her shuddering body. The tears that roll down her cheeks.
Those parted lips and the sound of her moans.
I breathe it in. Go slower even.
I’m savoring her for all the wrong reasons.
My hatred simmers in the shadows of my mind.
The pull to her is the only thing that exists.
