Chapter 20

STEVIE

I can't help but laugh as Lennox follows me upstairs. I'm buzzing from the amount of alcohol flowing through my body, annoyed and horny, but fuck, messing with him is so damn fun. I didn't think he'd fuck me in front of everyone in his bar though; that part I didn't see coming. At first, I was in shock. Caught off guard by the sheer aggression I could feel coming off him, but then the thrill of the situation took over.

The whispers as everyone around us watched. Unable to tear their eyes from Lennox's assault on me. The moment he was inside me, I fell apart.

I didn't give a shit who was watching. All I wanted was more. More of him, and his toxic touch.

Now, I'm still drunk, and even more annoyed that he didn't at least let me finish. However, I have a feeling I can convince him to finish what he started. Or at the very least, "punish me" for my bad behavior.

I mean, he wants it too. Even he can't deny that.

So it shouldn't be too hard to get him to cave.

He closes the door behind him, locking it as I plop down on the couch next to Grim. The alcohol is still buzzing through my system, but with the chaos, I'm starting to sober up.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Does this─" he gestures between us, "mean fucking nothing to you? Why do you need to constantly fucking push. Like we don't have enough fucking problems as it is," Lennox lectures me with an angry tone as he stands before me. He looks down with heavy breaths. Something on his shirt catches my eye—blood, trailing down his arm. Panic surges through me as I jump up to inspect it.

"What happened? You're bleeding," I point out, my voice trembling slightly.

"It's nothing," he assures me, shrugging his arm from my grasp. "The guy in your apartment managed to cut me in the fight, it's nothing. I'll be fine."

"Take it off," I say, my tone stern.

He eyes me, confused. "Take it off," I repeat, holding his gaze.

He listens, tossing the bloodied shirt to the floor. I examine the wound. It's infected. Early stages, but the signs are there. Thankfully, I brought some of my balms and herbs with me—my personal stash that I carry daily in my purse for times just like this. I grab my bag, pulling out candles and bundles of herbs.

Lighting the candles around the space, I notice Lennox's curious gaze.

"You'd be surprised how much altering the environment can help in the healing process," I explain. "Plus they smell good. They're made with essential oils that will help calm you, and the dim light will soothe you while I clean your wound."

I make him sit down while I use healing and antibacterial herbs and tinctures to clean and treat his wound for infection. As I treat the wound, I realize how stiff he is. His body is tense with tension.

"Here, sit." I demand, tugging him down to sit in front of me on the floor. "Turn your back to me," He does as I ask, without any grief which is new, and for once I'm thankful for it. Opening my bag, I pull out a small zipper pouch, full of bottles of oil from my plants and herbs. Adding a couple of drops to his shoulders, I slowly begin to work the muscles, massaging them with my hands.

He groans, the sounds escaping him as my fingers knead his skin. The oil makes his skin slick and warm under my touch. Each movement I make seems to release a bit of the tension in his body. His groans turn into softer, deeper sounds of relief.

My mind races with thoughts. I know I'm growing feelings for him. I care about him, even though I know I shouldn't. I fucking can't help it. There is just something about him that gets me. Something in him that calms the chaos that brews inside me daily.

I feel safe with him, not because I can't take care of myself, but because I know the lengths he's willing to go to, to keep me safe. No one's ever cared for me before. Not the way he does.

Sensing my distress, Lennox takes my hands in his and turns to face me. He softly brushes the hair from my face, forcing my eyes to meet his as he sits below me on the floor. I watch as he pushes himself up on his knees and slowly brings his lips to mine. At first, he ghosts them over mine. Sending a chill down my spine and goosebumps to prickle along my skin.

"Lil spark," he growls, "your touch, is like fire along my skin." He's soft and gentle, as he leans his forehead on mine. It's new for me, and so unlike the many who've ever touched me before him.

The men from Sweet Dreams were never gentle.

Not ever.

"Then burn for me, Lennox. Let me be the fuel to your raging inferno,"

He growls, and I can't stop the shiver that runs down my spine as Lennox's lips finally slam down on mine. The kiss is deep and hungry, our tongues tangling and exploring. He lowers me onto the couch, his body pressing down on mine, and I can feel his heat, his urgency.

His rough hands roam my body, touching and caressing. His fingers trace the line of my collarbone and slide down to cup my breasts through the fabric of my dress. He tugs the thin red straps down, exposing my skin to the cool air of his apartment and his warm touch. His mouth follows, kissing and nibbling on my neck, then moving lower to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I gasp, arching into him, my hands threading through his hair and holding him close.

"Lennox," I breathe, my voice a mix of desire and need.

He lifts his head, his eyes dark with lust. "You're mine, Stevie," he growls, and the possessiveness in his voice sends a thrill through me.

He moves back just enough to pull my dress off completely, my panties slide off with the dress, leaving me bare beneath him. Within seconds his hands are on me again, exploring every inch of my skin. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. "Tell me what you want, lil spark," His command is laced with a deep and carnal hunger. No one's ever asked me what I want. It's always been about them. About their needs and wants, not mine.

"You. Just you," I whisper in reply. Simple, yet true. I've never wanted anything more or more intensely than him.

"Say you're mine, I want to hear you say it," he whispers, and I shiver again, but the words he wants don't slip from my lips.

Because those words aren't easy for someone like me to say—someone who's been owned, claimed, and used for their entire life.

He kisses his way down my body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he doesn't hesitate. His mouth is on me, his tongue delving into my folds, and I cry out as my hips lift off the couch.

"Oh, God, Lennox!" I moan, my fingers gripping the cushions of his couch as waves of pleasure roll through me.

He works me with his mouth, his tongue teasing and flicking over my clit until I'm trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Just when I think I can't take anymore, he pulls back, his lips slick with my arousal. He climbs back up my body, his eyes locked on mine, and I can see the hunger there, the desire.

He kisses me again, and I can taste myself on his lips. It's intoxicating, only adding to my growing need for more of him. He positions himself between my thighs, and circles the head of his cock around my pussy as he coats himself in my arousal.

He grunts, "Look how fucking wet you are for me, lil spark." his hold on his cock growing tighter as he presses the tip against my entrance.

He pauses, looking down at me.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice rough with need. At first, I find the question odd. But then I realize that this time, will be different. This time, there is no game. It's not a fling, and it's not punishment. This time, our coming together means something. Things will be different after tonight, but after everything we've been through over the last few weeks, different might be a good thing.

It might be just what he and I need.

"Yes," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Please, Lennox."

He pushes into me slowly, stretching me, filling me inch by inch as he holds my gaze. I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves deeper. He groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through me.

"You feel so good," he mutters, his breath hot against my neck.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, and I feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that has me moaning, my body arching to meet his every movement.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, a rhythmic slap that drives me wild. My moans grow louder, and he captures my lips again, swallowing my cries.

"Fuck, Stevie," he groans, his hips slamming into mine. "You're so tight. So fucking perfect."

Every word, every thrust, sends me closer to the edge. My body is on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. I can feel the pressure building, my muscles tensing as I climb higher and higher to the release I do desperately crave.

"Lennox, I'm going to—" I can't even finish the sentence. My orgasm crashes over me, a tidal wave of pleasure that has me crying out his name and my body convulsing around him.

He follows me over the edge, his hips jerking as he finds his release. He moans, a deep, primal sound, and I feel the hot rush of his cum inside me. He collapses on top of me, his body trembling, and I wrap my arms around him, careful of his wound as I hold him close.

We lay there, our bodies still joined, our breaths mingling. I can feel his heart pounding against my bare chest, and mine matches its rhythm, bringing a smile to my face. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, and there's a softness there that takes my breath away.

"Stevie," he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I need to hear you say it."

"Say what?" I reply coyly as I trail my fingers up and down his sweat-coated skin.

His eyes flash briefly with a hint of hurt and yearning that pulls on my heartstrings.

I smile, pulling him down for another kiss. "Fuck sake, Lennox," I whisper against his lips. "Yes, okay. I'm yours." I watch as his lips pull into a smile. A genuine fucking smile before he rests his head back on my chest.

We stay like that for a long time, our bodies tangled together, the world outside, Sweet Dreams, the shop, all forgotten. In this moment, it's just us, and it's fucking perfect.

I know that this moment, this connection between us, is something I'll never let go of. I will burn everything to the fucking ground to keep it.

As I get ready to go to the shop, my mind keeps drifting back to last night with Lennox. The intensity of our passion, the way he held me, the possessiveness in his touch—it all lingers in my thoughts, making me smile. I've never felt so alive, so wanted. Despite everything, it was perfect.

I haven't heard from Jesse, which is unusual. He and Micah were at the shop late last night, so it's not unexpected that he might have overslept. Still, it leaves me with a tiny knot of worry.

I choose a simple outfit for the day—a fitted black t-shirt, high-waisted jeans, and my favorite leather boots. I keep my makeup light, just a touch of eyeliner and mascara, and my hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Practical, yet put together.

Grim is passed out on the couch, curled up with Lennox. After our passionate night, we didn't even make it to the bed. We spent the night on the couch, and Lennox is still sleeping there, his arm draped protectively over Grim.

Once the coffee finishes brewing, I fill a mug and carry it over to him. I've never made him coffee before, but since there's no cream or sugar in the house, I assume he takes it black. I gently wake him up, telling him I have to go to the shop.

He gets up without issue, insisting that he takes me. "You don't have to," I say, but he's adamant. He's pushy about it, but I can tell it's because he genuinely cares, not because he's being a dick. It makes me feel...warm, cared for in a way I'm not used to. I finally agree, not putting up a fight about it.

I hand him the coffee. "I hope I didn't ruin it with cream and sugar," I tease.

He smirks, taking a sip. "Perfect, just how I like it."

I watch him get dressed, unable to tear my eyes away. He pulls on a pair of dark jeans and a snug black t-shirt that clings to his muscles. The way his muscles flex and move as he gets ready, I could watch him all day. I bite my lip, my mind wandering to another round before the shop.

"Quit it," he says, catching my look. "You can wait until after work. We don't have time for all the things I want to do to you."

I laugh softly, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. "Fine, but you owe me."

He chuckles, then asks, "Is Jesse there yet?"

"No, I haven't heard from him since they left yesterday." I pat Grim on the head, deciding to leave him here for the day. He's safer this way.

We head to the shop, the drive quick and quiet. He holds my hand the entire time, playing some metal music on the radio. Hollywood Undead. "They're my favorite band," he explains, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my fingers just as we pull up to the shop.

I freeze instantly. On the window is a bright red crescent moon. The symbol for Sweet Dreams. Lennox senses my tension and follows my gaze.

"Is that—?" he begins.

"Blood. It's fucking blood."

Things fall into place in my head. I haven't heard from Jesse and Micah. There's blood on the window. No. No.

Panic grips me, and I rush into the shop. Lennox runs after me, trying to get to me before I storm inside, but it's no use. I get there first, and the moment I enter, I scream. A blood-curdling scream.

On the floor are the headless bodies of my friends. Their heads are on the counter next to a note that says, "You're next."

Lennox grabs me, and pulls me into his chest as he scans the carnage around the shop. I'm heartbroken. This is what I was afraid of. This is why I should've run. Lennox should've let me run. This is all my fault.

Tears stream down my face as I cling to Lennox. "I should've run," I sob. "This is my fault. It's all my fault."

He holds me tighter, his voice a low growl. "No, Stevie. This is on them. We'll make them pay."

But even his words can't touch the overwhelming guilt and grief that crashes over me. My friends are dead because of me. I collapse into Lennox, the weight of it all too much to bear.