Page 69 of Endo
I swirl my tongue around the tip, savoring the salty taste of him as I take him deeper. He lets out a low, guttural moan that reverberates through the quiet space, and it’s everything. The way his body reacts, the way he’s barely holding it together—it makes me feel powerful in a way I can’t describe.
“Goddamn it,” he hisses, his hands finally tangling in my hair, not guiding me, just holding on like he needs something to anchor him. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
I hum around him, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. My hand wraps around the base, stroking in time with the movement of my mouth, and I feel him start to lose it, his hips jerking slightly despite his effort to stay in control.
“Lena,” he growls, his voice rough and unsteady. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
I lick my lips, letting my fingers trace along his waistband, purposefully slow, teasing. “What’s wrong, Reign? Can’t handle a little patience?”
Through the open visor of his helmet, his eyes narrow, blazing with a mixture of lust and irritation. “You think this is a game?” he mutters, his breathing uneven. “You’re playing with fire.”
“That’s the fun part,” I murmur, leaning in just enough to brush my lips against him, light and fleeting, before pulling back again.
His entire body tenses, his jaw tightening as his hands drop from my hair and grip my shoulders. In one swift motion, he yanks me to my feet, his grip firm but not rough as backs me against the bike.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his hands sliding down to the zipper of my suit. “And I’m about to remind you exactly what that means.”
Reign’s hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him with a roughness that steals the air from my lungs. His helmet is still on, the open visor revealing his dark, intense eyes fixed on me like I’m the only thing in the world. There’s no hesitation in his touch, no softness. Just raw need, and it ignites something in me, something wild and reckless.
“Hold still,” he growls, his voice sharp with command.
I barely have time to react before his hands slide down to the waistband of my armored leggings. They’re snug, the kind you wear when you know you might hit the pavement at high speeds.The reinforced material is meant to protect, not entice, but the way he looks at me now, it’s clear he sees right past all that.
His fingers curl around the material at the crotch, and with a sudden, sharp motion, he tears it open, the sound of ripping fabric echoing in the quiet garage. My breath hitches, my heart pounding as the cool air kisses my bare skin. The ruined leggings cling to me everywhere else, but he doesn’t care. He’s got what he wants, and the sheer possessiveness in his actions sends a shiver down my spine.
“Reign,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief. “I just bought these! Do you have any idea how expensive they were?”
He leans back slightly, the open visor of his helmet showing the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I ruin your fancy leggings? My bad.”
I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms as much as I can in the compromising position he’s got me in. “You’re damn right you did. You owe me a new pair.”
His low chuckle rumbles through the garage, the sound dark and unapologetic. “Fine,” he says, his hands sliding up my thighs again, this time with deliberate slowness. “I’ll buy you ten pairs. Hell, twenty. But for now…” His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the bike seat. “You won’t need them.”
Before I can fire back, he positions himself at my entrance, his body hot and hard against me. The teasing edge in his tone vanishes, replaced by something darker, something that sends a rush of heat through me.
“You’re so goddamn wet for me,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips like he’s holding himself back by a thread.
The words hit me like a jolt, stealing my breath as he pushes into me, slow and deliberate, making sure I feel every inch. Myhands grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of his jacket as my head tips back, a soft cry escaping my lips. “And fucking tight. Shit, Lena.”
“God,” I manage, my voice shaky. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he answers with movement, a sharp, deliberate thrust that pulls a gasp from my lips and wipes every snarky comeback from my mind. His hands tighten on my hips, keeping me firmly in place as he sets a relentless rhythm, each motion sending shockwaves through my body.
“You wanted me to hold back?” he finally says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “Not a fucking chance,celona mou. Not when you feel this good.”
The nickname sends a shiver through me, mingling with the fire already burning under my skin. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, deeper, as my body arches into him. Every thrust feels like a claim, like he’s branding himself into my very core, and I can’t get enough.
“Reign…” I moan, my hands clawing at his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
His helmeted head dips down, his breath hot against my ear even through the faint barrier of the helmet. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he growls, his voice rough and dripping with possession. “You feel that,celona mou? That’s me reminding you exactly who you belong to.”
The words hit harder than they should, the sheer dominance in his tone sending another wave of heat coursing through me. I clutch at him, my nails scraping against his back as the rhythm intensifies, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing in the cavernous garage.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice breaking slightly as his hands slide up my body, gripping my waist tightly. “You feel so goddamn good. Like you were made for me.”
His words push me closer to the edge, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in my core with every thrust. My head tilts back, my body trembling as he drives me closer to the breaking point.
“Reign…” I manage, my voice breathless, barely a whisper.
