Page 91 of Endgame
I won’t back down. Not this time. Not even from him.
“No, Aurora. I’m not going to feed you. Now.”
I shake in the sting, inhaling through my nose.
“You know what, I don’t give a fuck about food.” My eyes cut from the spoon to his harsh glare. “I wasn’t that hungry anyway. You said you’d make me come. Do it.”
“Brat.” The pressure on my hair is gone, replaced by this agonizing grip on my chin. “Apologize.”
My eyebrows shoot down. He’s still withholding pleasure from me. He’s being cruel.
He could do worse.
Everett could deny me an orgasm. He could keep repeating this nightmare for an eternity. He has the power to do that. He has all the power.
I have to change my strategy. Have to claim some of the power for myself. If he respects me, he might let me have what I need.
“You’re the one who should be apologizing to me.”
“Apologize.” The second time he says it hits different. He’s less angry. More desperate.
For me.
“Apologize for what? Hmm?”
The air crackles with tension as seconds stretch between us.
The longer he holds me in his punishing grip, the hotter I get.
My thighs are embarrassingly wet. My breasts are heavy. Skin tingly.
“For what?” I breathe out.
“For being a brat,” he quips.
Before I know it, the spoon is shoved into my hand. My free one remains firm on his knee, supporting my weight.
His wrathful glare wakes the butterflies in my stomach. Helplessness clogs my throat.
I’m losing my mind.
“What are you waiting for?” It’s infuriating, how his T-shirt stretches over taut muscles. How it highlights his sculpted abs as he leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “You wanted to get off. So do it. Get. Off.”
Sure, I was a virgin yesterday, but even I know this isn’t how sex works.
“The spoon. I’m going to put it down.” Heat floods my cheeks. I hate that he’s pulling things out of me I’ve never admitted to anyone. That he isn’t just ramming into me and getting it over with. “Then I’ll… I’ll climb on top of you.”
His impatient glower cuts me to the core. Grabbing the remote off the table, he zaps me once.
A moan tears from me. A sob follows close behind.
My head hangs low, there, between his thighs. If not for my hand on his knee, I would’ve collapsed to the floor.
“Hmm.” Thishmmdoesn’t sound pensive. Thishmmis ominous.
A smart girl would’ve heeded it. She would’ve kept her head down, waited for his wrath to simmer.
But the knots in my belly turn me into a stupid, reckless woman.
