Page 68 of Endo
“Stop it,” I whisper, the words shaky and weak. But I can’t look away from him, from the intensity pouring off him like a storm.
“No,” he growls, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I’m fucking done holding back, Lena. You’re the one who keeps running, acting like none of this matters. But you came to me that night. No one forced you.Youmade that choice.”
“Because I wasn’t thinking!” I snap, my voice cracking under the weight of my own emotions. “I couldn’t—I didn’t know what else to do!” My breath hitches, my hands trembling at my sides.“I don’t know how to do this, Reign. I don’t know how to feel... about you, about us. And it terrifies me.”
His chest rises and falls sharply, his breath loud in the quiet garage. He steps closer until there’s barely any space between us. “You think I’m not scared?” he says, his voice softening but losing none of its edge. “You think this doesn’t tear me up inside? That wanting my dead best friend’s girl doesn’t fuck me up? Because it fucking does! But I can’t stop, Lena. I won’t.”
The vulnerability in his words cracks something deep inside me, unraveling my defenses piece by piece. He reaches for the helmet, his hands lifting to undo the clasp, but I step forward, placing my hands over his to stop him.
“Leave it on,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
His movements still, and his eyes, visible through the open visor, meet mine. They’re filled with confusion, questioning what I’m doing, why I’m asking this. But there’s something else there—need.
“Lena—” he starts, his voice low and cautious, like he’s trying to tread lightly.
“Please,” I cut him off, my hands trembling as they linger on his. “Just... leave it.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move, the tension between us humming like a live wire. Then, slowly, he drops his hands, letting them fall to his sides, the helmet staying in place as he surrenders.
I sink to my knees in front of him, the rough concrete pressing against my legs as my hands trail up his thighs. His body is tense, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to keep himself under control, but I’m past the point of caring. The storm inside me is too loud, too chaotic, and right now, I need to lose myself in him.
In this.
My fingers glide over the worn denim of his jeans, stopping just at the edge of his belt. I don’t rush. Instead, I let my hands linger, feeling the heat radiating off him, the sharp tension in his muscles. He’s trying to stay still, but I can see the way his body tenses, the way his breathing picks up, betraying him.
There’s a beat—a moment where everything else fades. The hum of the garage lights, the faint sounds of the city beyond—it all disappears, leaving just us in this charged, electrified space.
I take my time, undoing the buckle of his belt with slow, deliberate movements. The metallic clink echoes, and I swear I feel him twitch beneath my touch. I drag the zipper down, teasing both of us as I pull him free from his jeans.
And god, he’s hard.
Thick, heavy, and so fucking perfect it makes my mouth water.
“Fuck,” I whisper, half to myself, letting my fingers wrap around him, feeling the heat of his cock against my palm. He’s velvety smooth but rigid, pulsing under my touch, and it sends a thrill through me knowing I did this to him.
That I have this kind of effect on him.
“Lena…” he growls, low and rough, his voice teetering on the edge of control. His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to grab me, to take control, but he doesn’t. Not yet.
“You’re already this hard?” I tease, my voice light but laced with something darker, more deliberate. I stroke him once, slowly, watching his body tense under my touch. “Guess you missed me, huh?”
“Don’t fucking start,” he snaps, but there’s no bite in his words. Just raw, unfiltered want.
I grin, my lips brushing against the base of his cock, the contact so light it’s almost a taunt. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
His breath hitches, and I take him into my mouth, my tongue tracing a slow line up his length. His sharp intake of breathsends a shiver through me, and I feel his fingers twitch, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“Shit, Lena,” he groans, his voice breaking, raw and strained. “You’re driving me fucking nuts.”
“Good,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to speak, my breath warm against him. “Now you know how I feel having to put up with you.”
His head tips back against his shoulders, a low laugh rumbling from his chest, dark and rough. “You’re unbelievable,” he growls, his hands sliding into my hair, his fingers tightening just enough to send a thrill down my spine. “Smart-ass even now?”
I grin up at him, my fingers tracing along his hips, deliberate and slow. “You love it.”
“Do I?” he snaps back, his voice full of sarcasm, though his body tells a different story. His breathing is uneven, and the way his hands flex against my scalp makes my pulse race. “Because right now, I’m two seconds away from flipping you over this goddamn bike and reminding you who’s in charge.”
“Promises, promises,” I shoot back, my voice light but teasing, before I press my lips against him again. His sharp inhale and the way his grip tightens in my hair tells me all I need to know—he’s trying so hard to hold on, but he’s slipping, and I’m loving every second of it.
