Page 55 of Endo
The air between us feels heavy, thick with something I can’t name but don’t want to escape. Then his lips are on mine, hot and urgent, and everything else fades. The kiss is messy, desperate, all teeth and tongues and need. My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
His other hand slides down my side, gripping my thigh and lifting me like I weigh nothing. I don’t even have time to think before he’s carrying me to the bed, laying me down with a controlled kind of force that makes my breath catch.
“You’re impossible,” I whisper against his lips, my words trembling with half a laugh, half a moan.
“And you love it,” he shoots back, his voice rough as his body presses down against mine. His weight is solid and grounding, his lips moving against mine with an intensity that leaves me dizzy.
His hand tightens just slightly at my throat, and I arch into him, my nails dragging down his back as his grip on my thigh keeps me pinned exactly where he wants me.
“Lena,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost reverent as he pulls back just enough to look at me. “You’re driving me fucking insane.”
“Good,” I whisper, pulling him closer again, my legs locking around his waist as he presses his forehead to mine. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
And he does—like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.
When he finally pushes forward, the slow, deliberate stretch steals the air from my lungs, leaving me breathless and trembling beneath him.
I arch into him, my hands clutching his shoulders as he stretches me, fills me, the overwhelming fullness making me gasp. “Reign…”
“Tell me, Lena,” he groans, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against mine as he stills, giving me a moment to adjust. “Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll stop.”
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head as I pull him closer. “Don’t stop. Please.”
He exhales, his breath hot against my skin, and then he moves. Slowly at first, his hips rocking against mine in a rhythm that sends sparks shooting through me. The pressure builds with every thrust, the way he moves so cautiously, so precisely, like he knows exactly how to unravel me.
The way he fills me is almost too much—stretching me, reaching places I didn’t know existed, leaving me gasping for air. My body reacts to him instinctively, meeting his movements, pulling him deeper, and I can feel him everywhere.
“You’re perfect,” he mutters, his lips brushing against my temple. “So damn perfect,celona mou.”
The pace quickens, the desperation between us taking over. His hands grip my hips, pulling me into him as he drives deeper, harder, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. The room is filled with the sound of our bodies movingtogether, the soft cries escaping my lips, the guttural groans from his throat.
I can feel it building, the tension tightening in my core, coiling tighter and tighter until I’m on the brink. “Reign,” I gasp, my nails digging into his back. “I’m?—”
“I’ve got you,celona mou,” he says, his voice strained but steady, and the way he says it—like he’s holding me together—pushes me over the edge.
My body clenches around him as I shatter, the pleasure crashing through me so intensely it leaves me shaking. I cry out, my head falling back against the pillow, and he follows right after, his own release pulling a deep, guttural groan from him as his movements become erratic.
He thrusts into me one last time, his body going still as he presses deep, and I feel the warmth of him, the way he trembles against me, the sound of his ragged breath in my ear.
For a moment, neither of us moves, the weight of what just happened settling over us. His body is heavy on mine, but it feels grounding, anchoring me to this moment, to him.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his lips pressing gently to my temple. “You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, and the tenderness in it makes my chest ache.
“Yeah,” I whisper, though the word feels fragile, like it might break under the heaviness of everything I’m feeling.
And as we lay there, tangled together, his arms wrapped around me like he never wants to let go, I close my eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting sense of peace. But the guilt and confusion creep in, shadowing the warmth of his touch, and I realize I have no idea where we go from here.
We lie there in the dark, both of us breathing hard, tangled together in a mess of limbs and sheets. I feel him beside me, his arm around my waist, pulling me into him like he’s never going to let go.
But I can’t help it—I feel it. The weight of what we’ve done, the mess we’ve created. It’s not clean, it’s not simple, and as much as I want to stay here, to let him hold me, I know it’s not that easy. The guilt is already settling in my chest, a sharp reminder of the line I’ve crossed.
I turn my face into his chest, my mind racing, but I can’t push the feeling away. I want to stay in this moment, I want to feel safe, but everything I’ve been running from comes rushing back, drowning me in confusion and fear.
He’s asleep beside me, his breath steady and calm, but I can’t shake the storm raging inside me. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. This—whatever this is—feels like a dangerous game, one I don’t know if I can win.
And that scares me more than anything else.
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