Page 27 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

“T wo rabbits won’t be enough,” Max growls, and I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me.

He’s not the biggest out of us, but he eats more than Knox and Dante combined.

“We’ve got fruits. And whatever that weird shit Aspen found.” I shake my head, nudging the bag.

The air’s colder than it should be for this time of year. Summer’s supposed to be close, but it feels like the forest is holding its breath.

“I need more than a salad,” Max mutters, glancing around like a rabbit might magically appear if he scowls hard enough.

“You think Knox has forgiven Aspen yet?” I ask, changing the subject before he starts ranting about food again.

He exhales hard. “I fucking hope so.” He shakes his head. “He likes her. A lot. He,”

Max stops mid-sentence.

I frown, turning to face him. “He what?”

Before the plague, Knox was the coldest bastard I knew. Not to us, but to everyone else. Especially women.

He didn’t lie to them. That was the thing. He’d look them in the eyes and tell them it was for one night. No strings. No calls. Just a few hours of sweat and release, and every single one still wanted more.

But Knox? He never budged. Never let anyone in.

Max rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “He loves her, mate.”

Shit, I’ve seen it, the way Knox looks at her, like he’s always one second away from ruining the world to keep her breathing.

We start walking again, but something’s sitting heavy in my gut.

I stop. Touch his arm.

He turns, confused.

“And you?” I ask quietly. “Do you love her?”

His brow furrows. “Me?”

“Yeah. Do you?”

He stares; eyes locked on mine; the corner of his lips turns up. “Not the way I love you.”

Fuck.

I wasn’t ready for that .

“Max—”

I don’t finish. I grab his shirt, pull him in, and crash my mouth to his.

I shove him back against the nearest tree, kissing him like I need it to breathe.

My teeth sink into his lower lip, and he groans, hands flying to my back, already moving like he’s going to flip me, slam me to the ground, and take over like always, but not tonight.

I break the kiss and grab his jaw, fingers digging in.

“Just once,” I say, breathing hard. “Let me lead.”

His eyes widen with surprise.

I grin. “It’ll be good. I promise.”

“Ryk…” His breath picks up.

“I know I’m the sub,” I say, keeping my body flush to his, letting him feel the need. “I take what I want with Aspen. I give you everything you ask. But tonight?”

I press my forehead to his. “I need you to let me take you. Let me bury myself inside you and make you feel what you do to me.”

His grip on my waist tightens. His eyes lock on mine, and he breathes deep like he’s holding back a fucking war.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” I whisper, lips brushing along his jaw. “Just let go. Let me fuck you. Love you. Ruin you a little.”

He exhales, sharp and ragged, chest pressing to mine with every breath.

“Yeah?” I murmur, locking eyes. “Are you going to give me this?”

He nods once. “Fuck.”

My blood rushes south, and I’m hard in an instant.

Then his hand wraps around my throat tight. “Just this fucking once, got it?” he growls .

I feel him, though, already hard, his cock pressing against me like his body’s betraying the power he’s trying to hold onto.

“Scout’s honor.” I lift two fingers, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, Ryker.”

I drop to my knees, fingers unfastening his jeans. I tug them down, dragging his boxers along with them, and his cock springs out. Thick, hard, already leaking.

I grin.

First, I’m going to edge him. Then I’m going to fuck him.

He’s mine. He’s always been mine.

I lick up the tip, tasting the salt of his arousal. He groans deep, but before he can say anything else, I swallow him down, slow, letting him feel every inch of my tongue, the heat of my mouth.

“Ryker!” His head snaps back, his hand slamming against the tree to stay upright. His hips jerk, but I hold him still with one hand gripping his thigh.

I suck harder, bobbing my head, pumping him with slow, filthy strokes, my other hand squeezing the base just enough to hold him right there on the edge.

His legs tremble, breath breaking in fast, shallow bursts.

He’s close. I know his body, every twitch, every damn warning sign. I pull off with a pop, and he lets out a frustrated grunt; then I kick his leg out, and he drops, unprepared. Caught off guard.

I’m on him in a second, forcing him to all fours. His hands dig into the leaves, but I feel it, the hesitation. The pushback.

His dominance kicking in .

“Relax, Max.” I groan against his ear, one hand on his lower back. “Let me do this.”

I reach into my back pocket and pull out the small bottle.

His head whips to the side. “Where the fuck did you get oil?”

“Aspen found it under the bed,” I mutter, showing him the label. “Some almond oil bullshit. It’ll do.”

I slick my fingers and drizzle some over the curve of his ass. The shine of it coats his skin, dripping down slow, catching the last light of dusk.

He shivers.

“Easy,” I whisper, leaning in, pressing my lips to the back of his neck. “Have you ever done this?”

“What do you think?” He growls, but there’s no venom in it. Just tension. Vulnerability.

I could laugh. Could tease… but I don’t.

Because I know what this means. Max letting me have this? Letting me touch him like this? It’s his way of showing me how he really feels.

I press my index finger to his rim, slow, patient. His muscles tense instantly.

“Breathe,” I murmur, fingers ghosting over his spine. “Just breathe, Max. I’d never hurt you. You know that.”

His body shudders as I push in a little deeper, the oil helping but not erasing the tight resistance.

I kiss between his shoulder blades. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He groans low, head dropping. I curl around him, my other arm wrapping under to find his cock still hard. I grip him gently and stroke. Matching the rhythm of my finger inside him.

He moans. His hips jerk, torn between the sensation in front and the one I’m building behind.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “That feels…”

“I know,” I whisper. “I know, Max.”

When I feel his body start to open, to accept me, I press a second finger in. He tenses and gasps, but I keep stroking his cock, keeping him grounded.

“Breathe, Max,” I growl. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

I thrust my fingers in slow, scissoring gently. His walls tighten, fight, then give; he lets out a sharp moan, and I feel his legs shake again. I press soft kisses down his back, mouth dragging along his skin, whispering into him between every breath.

“Let me in.”

“Let me have you.”

His body’s finally opening for me, trembling under my touch.

My fingers are deep inside him, curling and thrusting slowly. Max groans, the sound torn from his chest.

“You ready?” I whisper, mouth to his shoulder.

He nods once, muscles tight with tension.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“I’m ready.” The words are barely audible.

I pull my fingers out, slick my cock with the last of the oil, and stroke it once, twice, watching it gleam in the low light.

My pulse pounds. My breath is ragged. My body’s vibrating with the need to bury myself inside him.

I line up behind him and grip his hips, pressing the head against him, waiting, watching his fists clench into the dirt.

Then I push. His whole body seizes.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

I stop. Breathe through the burn climbing up my spine. His heat’s unbearable. Tight.

“Does it hurt?” I growl, barely steady.

“A little,” he grits out, sweat rolling down his spine.

I lean over, mouth against his ear. “Imagine how I feel taking your fucking piercing every time you split me open.”

He laughs, actually fucking laughs, and I thrust deeper while his guard’s down.

“Ryker!” His voice cracks, pleasure laced with pain.

“That’s it,” I groan, hips rocking, pushing until I’m all the way in, until his ass is flush against me and he’s full, stuffed with me.

“Goddamn,” he chokes out, body shaking.

“You’re doing so fucking good,” I whisper, one hand running up his spine, the other gripping his waist so hard my knuckles go white.

I give him a second. Let him adjust. Let him feel me inside him.

Then I pull back and slam back in. His head drops. A ragged moan leaves his lips.

“You take me so well,” I grunt, pounding harder now, finding a rhythm.

He growls, but it’s lost in the way he’s falling apart beneath me, each thrust dragging a new sound from him, each stroke grinding my cock deeper, harder, rougher.

I slide one hand around and grip his cock again, pumping it in time with my hips .

His body’s trembling, chest heaving, muscles clenching around me like a fucking vice.

“I can feel every twitch,” I snarl. “So tight for me. So fucking mine.”

His hands dig into the dirt, legs trembling. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

I don’t. I give him everything. All the restraint I’ve been holding back for years. All the love I don’t know how to say.

I pound into him, feral, possessive, gritting through every wave of pleasure threatening to break me.

He’s mine. Under me for the first time. And fuck, I’m never giving this up.

His body bucks, back arching.

“I’m close,” he pants. “Ryker,”

“Come for me,” I growl, hand pumping him harder. “Let me feel you lose it.”

With a strangled moan, his cock pulses in my hand, hot and thick as he spills across the dirt, and I lose it.

I thrust deep one final time and come so hard my vision goes white, hips jerking, teeth sinking into his shoulder as I fill him with everything I have left.

I’m still catching my breath, my chest pressed to Max’s back, both of us wrecked and covered in sweat.

“Fuck,” I murmur, forehead pressed to the curve of his neck. “We need to do this again.”

He doesn’t answer, not with words; he twists, in one smooth, brutal move, he flips onto his back and then shoves me off him, knocking me straight into the dirt. My elbows hit the ground, and I grunt, half in surprise, half in delight.

“Jesus,” I breathe, staring up at him.

He straddles me, his hand slamming against my chest, pinning me down. His eyes are wild, lips curled into that smug, dominant smirk that makes me weak.

“You forget who the fuck you’re talking to?” He growls.

I chuckle, still breathless, still wrecked, still hard somehow.

“Thought you were gonna give me one night , Max.”

He leans down, his lips brushing mine, breath hot.

“Yeah, well. You just fucked me . Now I’ve gotta fuck the attitude out of you.”

“Oh yeah?” I rasp. “You sure you’ve recovered, old man?”

His hand shoots to my throat, pressure just firm enough to shut me up.

I moan. He grins.

“I’ll show you how recovered I am,” he snarls, and I see it in his eyes, that dominance, that fire. The need to own me, body and soul.

I melt under him, willingly. Even after just taking him, I feel myself slipping into that familiar place, submissive but not weak. Trusting.

Wanting him to take over, but he doesn’t push further.

He stares down at me for a long moment, his grip slowly easing from my neck to my jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of my mouth.

Then he sighs. “You’re dangerous when you’re in charge,” he mutters .

“You liked it,” I say, grinning up at him.

He presses his forehead to mine. “Yeah. I fucking loved it.”

We stay like that for a beat, just breathing.

His weight on top of me, the earth under my back, our heartbeats finally slowing. My body aches, but it’s the good kind of pain, the kind that says you’re alive, and you’re his.

He shifts off me, pulling me with him, and we lie side by side. His arm drapes across my waist.

“I didn’t hurt you?” I ask quietly.

He scoffs. “I can take a lot more than that.”

“You let me in.”

He looks over, eyes softer now. “You earned it.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. My fingers find his hand and lace through.

He pulls me closer, his arm heavy across my chest, like he doesn’t want to let go.

“We should head back,” he mutters. “Before Knox comes looking with guns blazing.”

Max chuckles, and I nod, groaning as I stand up.

“We also need a shower,” I say, reaching down and offering him my hand. “A cold-as-fuck one.”

He laughs and lets me pull him up.

The base at least had a half-working heater; it takes the bite out of it. But out here? Every shower feels like ice picks to the spine. Like punishment with water.

But right now? Fuck, I need it.