Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

H ayes and I watch as the mansion is engulfed in flames, the fire crackling and roaring, sending thick plumes of smoke into the night sky. The heat from the fire reaches us even here, far enough away to be safe but close enough to feel its blistering warmth on our faces.

“Look,” Hayes says, pointing beyond the mansion to the trees lining the property. The fire is spreading, leaping from branch to branch, igniting the dry wood. It crawls up the trunks, reaching higher until the tops of the trees are ablaze. The inferno moves toward the decrepit Ferris wheel, and its old, wooden cars catch fire, one by one, flames licking up their sides as black smoke fills the air.

“I hope the whole thing turns to ash,” Hayes mutters.

I nod, my eyes fixed on the flames as they destroy everything. For a moment, I dare to hope that maybe we’ve actually escaped, that maybe we’re free. But as the flames continue to consume the mansion and the sky darkens with soot and ash, I still feel her, a small flicker of her presence inside me. Burning embers drift through the air, glowing like tiny fireflies before falling, cooling into black flakes that rain down around us. The acrid smoke stings my eyes and fills my lungs, and I cough, pulling my shirt over my nose to try to filter out the worst of it.

Hayes stands beside me, his expression grim as he watches the mansion burn. “It’s like the whole place is trying to take the forest with it,” he says, his voice heavy with something like resignation. “Like it’s still reaching for something, even in death.”

The smoke thickens, and for a second, I think I see shapes moving within the flames—twisted forms, ghostly faces—but I blink, and they’re gone. “Did you see that?” I whisper, not sure if my mind is playing tricks on me or if Liliana’s still somewhere within the burning ruins.

Hayes doesn’t answer me. He’s staring past the fire now, toward the road. I follow his gaze and see headlights approaching, cars pulling up to the edge of the property. People are getting out, their faces lit by the glow of the fire. They’re watching the mansion burn, and I’m surprised to see smiles, a strange mix of relief and joy. It’s like they’ve been waiting for this, waiting for the end of Everwood.

“Hayes,” I say quietly, tugging at his sleeve. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

He nods and pulls me away from the crowd. We move quickly, ducking behind the line of trees to avoid being seen. The shadows are thick, and we use them to our advantage, slipping past the onlookers who are too entranced by the flames to notice us. Hayes keeps a firm grip on my hand, leading me toward his car.

“Don’t worry about your car,” Hayes says, his voice low. “I’ll get someone to tow it to my place… or just junk it. We don’t need it right now.”

Junk my car? How would I get around? I need it to?—

“I’ll get you a new one, I promise,” he says.

I nod, too exhausted to argue. My arm still throbs with pain, the wound fresh and raw. I can feel the blood drying on my skin, sticking to my clothes. Hayes opens the passenger door for me, and I sink into the seat with a tired sigh. I watch him as he rounds the front of the car and climbs in behind the wheel.

We drive in silence, the fire growing smaller in the rearview mirror. I glance back, watching the smoke rise into the sky, blotting out the stars. I turn back around, staring ahead, trying to steady my breathing, trying to focus on the road. Hayes’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles white.

“I killed them, didn’t I?”

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.“No.” He pulls the car over to the shoulder of the road and jams it into park. “Listen to me very carefully,” he begins. “Something unnatural happened in that place, something beyond you or me. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

I don’t know if he really believes that. I know I don’t. They’re all dead because of me. I look away and lean my head against the window and close my eyes.

I can feel when Hayes pulls back onto the road, and my body settles with the smooth ride of the tires over the asphalt. He holds my hand as he drives, rubbing his thumb softly over my knuckles.

I must have fallen asleep, because I bolt upright when Hayes says, “I think this is far enough.” I’m dizzy and disoriented, the corner of my mouth pooling with drool. God, I hope I wasn’t open-mouth snoring next to him.

Outside the windshield, the sun is just starting to rise, a pale sliver of light on the horizon, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Hayes pulls into an empty spot and cuts the engine.

“Stay here,” he says, turning to look at me. “You’re covered in blood. I don’t want anyone to see you like this. I’ll get us a room.”

I nod again, too tired to argue. I watch as Hayes gets out of the car and heads inside, his silhouette framed by the first light of dawn. I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes for another moment, trying to block out the images of the night—the fire, the screams, the feeling of Liliana’s cold, dead grip around my chest. I still can’t shake the sense that something is watching me, that we’re not safe yet.

Minutes pass, and I force myself to open my eyes, scanning the parking lot. A few other cars are parked nearby, but there’s no sign of anyone else. I shift in my seat, my arm throbbing painfully. I hope I don’t need stitches.

Hayes returns with a key in hand. He opens my door, gently helping me out. “Our room is on the second floor,” he says quietly. “Let’s go. We need to clean you up and rest.”

I nod, leaning on him for support as we make our way across the parking lot and up the stairs to our room. The door clicks open, and we step inside. The room smells freshly cleaned, all pine trees and lemons.

Hayes locks the door behind us and gently leads me to the bathroom. He turns on the bathtub faucet, pouring an entire mini bottle of soap into the running water. Bubbles rise, and the scent of vanilla fills the room, warm and comforting. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs softly, his hands tender as he carefully peels the bloody T-shirt away from my skin. I wince as the fabric sticks to the cut on my arm, and he pauses, concern flickering in his eyes. I press my dirty palms against my eyes, fighting back tears.

He moves slowly, unbuckling my jeans and sliding them down my legs. I step out of them, feeling the cool air against my bare skin. Hayes is patient, his touch careful and calming. I lift my foot over the side of the tub and step into the water. It’s hot—almost scalding—just the way I like it. Perfect. I crouch down, lowering myself into the bath, feeling the heat envelop me, sinking into my bones. I dip my head back beneath the surface, letting the water rush over me, washing away the blood, the dirt, the fear.

I stay under until my lungs begin to burn, then slowly rise, breaking the surface with a deep, gasping breath. The warmth of the water surrounds me, and for a moment, I feel weightless, free.

Hayes moves to the side of the tub, his touch tender as he begins to wash my shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. The soft vanilla soap glides over my skin, and the water feels like silk, a gentle caress that eases the tension from my muscles. His fingers work the lather into my skin, massaging away the grime and the pain. The water turns pink with blood.

His touch moves lower, gliding down my arms, across my collarbone. He reaches for more soap, lathering it over my breasts, his fingers light but firm. The moment the soap brushes over my nipples, they harden into tight, achy points. A shiver runs through me, and I clutch the rim of the tub, my breath catching in my throat.

I swallow back a moan and clench my thighs together to relieve the sudden sharp spasm of need. What kind of horrible person am I to be aroused right now? After all that’s happened. I squeeze my eyes shut when he cups a whole breast, silky and slippery with soap. His touch is soft, he’s trying to be gentle, but my body wants more, and my back arches slightly to press against him more firmly. He pauses, his breath hot and heavy against my ear, sending a wave of desire straight through me and pulsing between my thighs. His soapy hands glide up to my throat, and I open my eyes, meeting his intense gaze.

“My whole body aches,” I whisper.

“With pain?” he asks softly.

“With need,” I reply.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His hand around my neck tightens slightly as he leans in, dragging his lips across mine. My hands lose their grip on the edges of the tub when his tongue slides deliciously into my mouth.

He loosens his grip on my neck, and I let out a small cry. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers.

“You don’t hate me for what happened, I—” I begin, my voice shaky.

“We’re lucky to be alive, Tor," he interrupts gently. "And I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m deep inside you.” His hand slides down between my breasts and over my stomach, slipping beneath the water. “So, I’m going to celebrate being alive, every fucking day, if you let me. Okay?” His fingers reach the top of my mound, stopping just above my clit, pressing down firmly. A wave of pleasure ripples through me.

“Yes,” I murmur, more in a plea than answer.

I spread my legs wide, resting my knees on both sides of the tub as he slips his fingers inside me. “Fuuuck,” I gasp, letting my head fall back against the cool, tiled wall.His fingers move in slow, deep strokes, his thumb circling firmly against my clit. A small pinprick of pleasure blooms, spreading out and spiraling through my core. My needy pussy bucks up as his thrusts get faster, desperate for release. His fingers pump and stroke until I’m trembling. My legs kick out, hitting the drain release, and I feel the water begin to lower.

My pussy feels almost swollen, aching and oversensitive. “I need more, Hayes.”

“You want my cock?” he asks.

“That question will always have a yes answer from me.”

He slips his fingers out of me and I moan at the sudden emptiness.

“Come on, stand up,” he says, his voice low.“Let’s get the rest of you clean. Make sure that cut is taken care of, too.”

“What?” I protest. “What happened to putting your cock in me?”

He chuckles softly, turning on the showerhead. “Give me five more minutes to wash the rest of the blood off you, and then I’ll fuck you any way you want. I promise.”

I groan but step under the spray, the hot water cascading over me. He works shampoo into my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp, then carefully washes the rest of my body, his touch gentle yet thorough. The water runs red at first, swirling down the drain, but soon it circles clear.

I turn off the shower as the last dregs of soap swirl down the drain. Hayes unfolds a towel and gently pats my hair dry before draping it around my shoulders.

I shrug it off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Needy girl,” he murmurs, a grin spreading across his face.

“Why are you still dressed?” I ask, cupping his arousal through his jeans. “You promised me cock,” I whisper.

“I did, didn’t I?” He flicks open the button of his jeans and lowers the zipper slowly. He’s teasing me. Drawing out my anticipation. He lowers the denim over his hips and lets them drop to the floor. Inside his briefs, his shaft presses against the cotton material, large, bursting.

My mouth waters when he pulls himself out, thick and long, smooth and so, so fucking hard. There’s no better way to describe it other than beautiful—well-groomed, heavy, pulsing. It’s the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a whole hell of a lot of them.

“God, the way you look at me,” Hayes says hoarsely. He gives his shaft a slow tight pump and watches me.

“Aren’t you scared of me? After what I did?” I ask, lowering onto my knees, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock.

“No,” he breathes, eyes glazing over.

I circle my tongue over his velvety head, taste his saltiness from a pearl of precum that glistens in the middle. “What if she’s still inside me?”

He strokes himself again. “Then I hope she likes my cock as much as you do. Now, open up and take it real deep.”

I slide my lips over him, pulling him in so deep, tears well in the corner of my eyes. He pulses on my tongue, quick vibrating throbs, that make me hum and moan around his cock.

“She’s quiet now, yeah? Maybe she likes my cock in your mouth,” he groans, his hands tangling into my wet hair, fisting it, urging me faster.

I quicken my pace and drag my tongue over him in circles. Work one hand over him, the other softly massaging his sac, gently squeezing, kneading.

“Goddamn, what are you doing?” he moans, tightening his hold on my hair. “Oh, fuck that’s good.” The more I swirl my tongue the heavier his breathing gets, over and over, until his movements are frantic and his balls tighten. He’s so close, I can taste it, and my inner thighs turn slick at the thought. “Tori, stop. Stop. You’re going to make me come.”

He pulls himself from my mouth, and I instantly whimper.

Up," he commands, and I rise instinctively, feeling the pull at my scalp as he lifts my hair. Then his hands drop to my shoulders, spinning me around so quickly that my balance falters. For a second, my world tilts. My breath hitches, and I nearly stumble, but Hayes is there—steady, solid, his hands firm yet careful. His grip shifts, guiding me to the edge of the sink until my belly presses against the cold porcelain. His fingers wrap around my right thigh, lifting my leg with ease until my knee rests on the cool edge of the sink. My other leg remains firmly planted on the ground. “That’s it, good girl.”

My body feels taut, like a bowstring pulled tight, balancing between the solid support of the sink and the floor beneath me. His hand finds the middle of my back, pressing down slowly but firmly. I bend forward, my palms splaying against the countertop as I watch myself in the mirror. Bent over like this, the sight of my own flushed face and wild hair sends a surge of something primal through me, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I wait, fully aware of how open and exposed I am.

Hayes slides up closer behind me. I feel his heat against my bare skin, his hand fisting his erection. He bends over, his chest flush to my back, and drops his face into the side of my neck. “Who are the only two people in that mirror, baby?”

“Just me and you.”

He presses his cock to my entrance, pushes himself an inch or two into my wet heat, and I gasp from the size of him, from the position, from the intense way his eyes are locked onto mine in the mirror.

“My cock in your mouth made you so wet, didn’t it?” he asks, slowly nudging in deeper inside me.

“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely. I’m so slippery it’s almost embarrassing, but then I feel him swell and throb deep inside and all I think about is how good it feels. Right now, he’s taking his time, moving so slow that my thighs start to tremor uncontrollably, and I whimper and beg, “Fuck me, Hayes. Hard. Please.”

He pulls out slow, then thrusts back fast and hard, and I choke out a scream. He wraps one arm around the front of my body, cupping onto a breast, and the other wraps around the front of my throat, firmly squeezing. He pumps his cock in and out of me hard and fast, pressing his mouth to my ear and telling me beautiful filthy things. “You take my cock so well, Tori. Your pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me.”

God, I love the way he moans each word.

He better not leave me, my inner voice says.

“Hayes?” I ask, panting.

His lips open against my neck, kissing my flesh while his hips drive into me in long hard thrusts. “Yeah?” he groans.

My fingers curl into fists. “Don’t leave me. Don’t?—”

“Never,” he says, and a warmth spreads out from my chest, tingling through the rest of my body. He angles himself deeper and slides a hand over the front of my sex, rubbing hard quick circles against my clit. “Never.”

Heat explodes where his fingers touch and pleasure coils fast through my core. “Oh my God, Hayes, yes. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” The pleasure mounts as he pounds into me. I swear, my soul lifts up out of my body and cheers him on. Sensations overwhelm me, every nerve on fire as his body claims mine. His moans, low and guttural, feel like a direct current through my skin, sinking into something deeper—something more primal. I cling to the sink, my fingers knotting, pressing into the porcelain sink, as if holding on to something solid will keep me tethered to the moment. But there’s a strange shift, a feeling like I’m on the edge of something beyond the physical.

“I’ll never leave you. I’ll never hurt you. You hear me?” His voice is everywhere—inside me, around me. It weaves through my thoughts, but it’s so much more than that. Each sound he makes reverberates through my chest, and I swear I can feel it deeper, as if his words are sinking into my bones.That warmth from my chest radiates in waves until it feels like my very being is expanding, stretching.It’s an unfamiliar sensation, as though I’m floating just above my own body, watching, but also… feeling everything even more acutely.

"Never," he says again, and the word hums through me, the sound vibrating through my veins.The pleasure builds, coiling fast and tight in my core, a wild and relentless surge that pushes me beyond any limit I thought possible. My hips move with his, but there’s a flicker of something else—a deeper pulse, a shadow of need not entirely my own.It’s like I’m sharing the moment with something unseen, a presence that amplifies every sensation.

I gasp, my voice high and trembling as my body writhes beneath his. It’s as if my soul, my very essence, is caught up in the pleasure, delighting in every thrust, every sound that escapes his lips. I’ve never felt like this before—never been fucked like this before. His hands are everywhere, fingers pressing into me, and the sensation sends me hurtling further out of myself, yet somehow closer to the center of it all.

The line between my body and whatever is beyond it blurs as the pressure inside me peaks.“Oh my fucking God,” I cry out, as that pinprick of pleasure blossoms into something I can’t stop, can’t control—don’t even want to. “I’m going to come.”

“Yeah, you are,” he growls. “Every damn day, baby. Going to come on my cock every damn day.”

I scream as my pussy convulses, instantly shattering around him, sending sparks across my vision. Hayes keeps up the pace and I slump forward, muscles loose, body like liquid. Then with a strangled grunt of my name, he stiffens, filling me with his thick silky cum.