Page 423 of End Game

Enough that I can talk.

Enough that Ronan can ask what I feel.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Too much?”

“No.”

“Still green?”

“Yes.”

My mouth keeps moving anyway.

Not because anything is wrong.

Because apparently silence is physically impossible.

“I thought maybe you'd use a plug or something. You own, like, seventeen, which seems excessive, although I guess inventory matters when you have multiple asses in the house and holy shit that sentence—”

“Dex.”

“Sorry.”

“You aren’t trying very hard.”

“To shut up?”

“Yes.”

“I told you. I can't.”

Silence.

Then Ronan very quietly says, “Let me help you with that.”

My entire body goes hot.

His hands leave me.

Oh.

Fuck.

I hear noises.

Then his fingers touch my cheek.

“I'm going to remove the blindfold briefly.”

The light is dim enough not to be jarring.

Ronan is right above me.

In one hand is a black ball gag.