Endo (Full Send #2)

Chapter 24

24

LENA

Saved My Life - Sia

The way he rode tonight—it wasn’t just about getting us away from the cops. It wasn’t about the thrill or the danger or the speed. He rode for me. He faced every demon clawing at him, every fear holding him back, and he did it because I froze. Because I needed him. And that realization is a weight on my chest I don’t know how to carry.

When we pull into the parking garage, the silence hits like a slap. The engine cuts off, and the fluorescent lights hum faintly above us, casting a cold glow over the concrete.

Reign doesn’t move right away. He stays on the bike, his helmet still on, his hands gripping the handlebars like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

I swing my leg over and step off, my boots clicking against the concrete. My body feels as tight as a coiled spring, my chest heavy with everything unsaid.

“Are you going to keep avoiding me, or are we going to talk?” His voice breaks through the quiet, muffled but unmistakably sharp.

I stiffen, my fingers twitching at my sides. “I’m not avoiding you,” I lie, my tone defensive even to my own ears.

He finally turns, swinging his leg over the bike to face me. Even as he flips up the visor, his eyes burning into mine, I can feel the weight of his stare. “Bullshit, Lena,” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting through the air like a whip. “You haven’t answered my calls, ignored every single text, and now you’re pretending like nothing happened? Like we didn’t happen?”

I cross my arms over my chest, my nails digging into my leather suit. “I didn’t ask for this, Reign. I didn’t ask for you to—” My voice falters, and I look away, unable to finish the thought.

“To what?” he presses, stepping closer. “To care about you? To want you? Newsflash, Lena—I’m not the only one who crossed a line.”

My head snaps back to him, anger bubbling up and mixing with guilt. “Don’t you think I know that?” I hiss, my voice rising. “Don’t you think I’ve felt it every second of every goddamn day since? This... whatever this is—it’s wrong.”

He takes another step, his body towering over mine, the tension crackling between us like a live wire. “Wrong?” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re lying awake at night? When you can’t stop thinking about how it felt?”

“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. You made 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 breath sends 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.

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. My hands 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.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his tone softening just enough to send a different kind of warmth through me. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

The words are my undoing. My body shatters around him, the release hitting me in waves so intense I can barely hold myself up. My cries fill the garage, mixing with the sound of his breathing, ragged and uneven as he drives into me a few more times before following me over the edge.

His grip on me tightens as he stills, his body tense and trembling against mine. For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing, heavy and erratic, filling the space between us.

When he finally pulls back, his hands slide up my thighs, steadying me as I cling to him, my body still shaking. His helmet tilts slightly, the visor open enough to let me catch a glimpse of his face—flushed, intense, and filled with something I can’t quite name.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his voice rough but tinged with amusement.

I laugh weakly, my head falling against his shoulder as I try to catch my breath. “You owe me new leggings,” I mumble, my words muffled against his jacket.

His low chuckle vibrates through me, and he presses a gloved hand against my lower back, holding me close. “Deal. But next time, don’t wear anything you care about.”

I pull back enough to meet his gaze through the visor, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the exhaustion tugging at my limbs. “Next time?” I tease.

He grins, the cocky edge returning to his tone. “Oh, there’s definitely going to be a next time, celona mou . Count on it.”