Page 39 of Endgame

My belt is unbuckled. Cock in my fist.

God.Fuck. It’s only now that I have my hand wrapped around it that I understand the depth of my dark desires.

Touching myself hasn’t felt this good in years.

But it isn’t about her.

I’ve been lurking in the shadows for too long. The anticipation leading up to this moment of striking them down. That’s what this is about.

My need is as primal as they come.

That’s what I keep telling myself as I shove her panties out of the way. Her cunt, her ass,her, they mean nothing to me.

She’s a body to be used and tortured.

A soft, gorgeous, pliant body that’s entirely mine.

Still rubbing my aching cock, I tear her panties off her. Then I lift her hips again, spitting on her tightest hole. Licking myself off her rim.

I’m claiming her. I’m ruining her.

And I need to come. Selfishly, without giving my enemy an ounce of pleasure.

I sit back up, jerking myself off.

This is true justice. This is—fuck, so good—fairness. Looking at her, knocked out. At my mercy.

It feeds my revenge.

Feeds my obsession just as much.

“My filthy little slut,” I say, feeling the words forming on my lips.

“Such.” I hold the base of my dick, slapping her ass with the tip. It’s nowhere near as satisfying as cracking my hand on her flesh. It’ll have to do if I don’t want to risk waking her up. “A.”Slap, and my balls pull tight. “Slut.”

Degrading her, debasing this gorgeous, fucked-up princess, is hot.

That, too, is justice.

Except justice is the last thing on my mind when I thrust my hips harder into my hand. When I grind my cock along the smooth skin of Aurora’s ass.

She’son my mind.

My cum on her body. Her rumpled clothes. The torn panties of my future wife.

“Fuck”—I shoot my seed on that forbidden hole, emptying myself on her—“that. Fuck that and fuck you.”

My mind disagrees with me.

Instead of hate, memories of Aurora’s sad blue gaze rise.

The way I held her by the throat. Her uncontrollable moans. The shame laced in every sound.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the slivers of emotion to go away.

While I tuck myself in, they slowly disappear. Dust in the wind.

Am I done with Aurora, though? No.