Page 30 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

T he fireplace crackles behind us, but the heat doesn’t come from the flames; it comes from her. From the way her body arches, sweat dripping down her chest, her legs shaking, moans falling from her lips like fucking prayers.

Max’s tongue is buried in her. Ryker’s on his knees, lips wrapped around Max’s cock, and fuck, if that isn’t the most obscene, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

We’ve always been open. But this? Watching them give in to each other while devouring her like she’s their altar? This feels like victory .

Aspen shakes. Her moans get louder, more desperate.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Max says, voice low and coaxing. “Come for me.”

Her body convulses, her scream rips through the room, and I’m already behind her, holding her waist to keep her from swinging too hard. The belts creak, her wrists strain. She sobs Max’s name. “Max, please, I can’t,” But he doesn’t stop.

He licks her through it. Slower now, gentler, but he’s not letting go until she gives him everything.

Ryker rises, moving beside him. He slips a finger inside her pussy, slow, tender, coaxing.

She moans, eyes clenched shut, completely wrecked, but we’re not done.

“Now let’s play.” Knox steps forward, face unreadable. Controlled. But his eyes? They’re pure fire.

“I can’t take more,” she whispers, trembling like a thread.

Knox brushes his thumb over her lips.

“You can, pet,” he murmurs. “We’ll show you what it means to be worshipped.”

He unzips.

His pierced cock springs free, thick and already soaked with precum, and Aspen gasps at the sight of him, eyes wide, and even if she says she can’t take more, I can see it in the way she is looking at him.

“Knox, I don’t know if I,” She falters.

“You can use your safe word,” he says with a fucking grin, knowing damn well she won’t .

Her head shakes slowly, so he grabs her hips and thrusts in, hard, without any hesitation.

“Knox!” she screams, head falling back. He holds still, letting her adjust, feel all of him.

I step beside her, blade in hand. She sees it and holds her breath.

“You ready?” I ask, trailing the knife lightly down her stomach.

She nods.

Knox pulls out. Her body clenches, confused, aching. Then I lower the knife, her eyes snap wide.

“Dante!” she yelps, clenching her thighs.

But Knox is there, between her legs, holding her open.

I press the handle of the blade to her entrance, slow.

She gasps, chest rising.

“Eyes on us, pet,” Knox orders, and she obeys, barely hanging on.

Max and Ryker step in again. Ryker sucks one of her nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling. Max takes the other side, biting just hard enough to make her cry out.

“You’re being such a good girl,” Knox groans, his thumb circling her clit.

And I fuck her, gently, with the handle of my knife.

“I’m going to pass out!” she gasps.

I lean in, palm cradling her sweat-slick cheek, thumb brushing beneath her trembling eye. “You want us to stop, doll?”

Her lashes flutter. Then her gaze snaps to mine, burning. “No.”

That’s all I need .

I press the handle deeper, watching the stretch, the way her body opens and tightens around the cold steel like it’s mine.

Max and Ryker are on her breasts, mouths wet and greedy, leaving marks she won’t hide tomorrow.

Knox doesn’t flinch, doesn’t speed up; he just circles her clit with that same slow, unrelenting pressure, precise as a blade to the throat.

She shakes, her whole body arching in this beautiful, reckless surrender, moaning so softly at first, then louder, like she’s trying to drown in it.

Her head drops forward. Her breath stutters. She’s so fucking close.

“You, Aspen…” I whisper, my mouth right at her ear as her lashes flutter and her body tenses around the blade. “You’re ours. Every goddamn piece of you. No one else gets this.”

Not her body.

Not her moans.

Not her blood.

Not her soul.

Only us.

Her mouth opens like she’s trying to speak some fractured version of “ Oh my fucking—,” but the orgasm tears it from her throat before she can finish.

She doesn’t get the words out.

She just screams, loud, wild, broken, and we catch her as her body hangs.

Ryker grabs her head, holding it gently as it lolls. His smile is slow and smug, brushing his lips against her temple. “She did pass out.”

We all smile.

Knox pulls his jeans back up, and I hold her steady while Max unbuckles the belts around her wrists. Her arms are bruised but no cuts. Her body sags completely in my hold, limp and used, and I carry her to the bedroom.

I lay her on the mattress. Her eyes flutter open, her breathing finally slowing.

“I told you I was gonna pass out,” she murmurs, smiling weakly before her eyes fall shut again.

“You did, doll.” I brush a damp piece of hair from her face. “But we’re not done yet.”

Her eyes snap open.

“What?” She jerks upright, arms trembling, but that little devious smirk spreads across her face.

“We haven’t filled all your holes yet, pet.” Knox steps in, bottle of water in hand.

He sits on the mattress and passes it to her. She drinks, greedy and still catching her breath.

We wait.

Then Max walks up beside me and hands me the knife.

“If the fucking plague hadn’t happened,” he mutters, “we’d have tattooed your name by now.”

I look at Knox.

He watches her like the world’s gone quiet, like everything he is has narrowed down to this one moment, this one woman. There’s a softness in his eyes, rare and raw, wrapped in something fiercer. Love. Hunger. Devotion that burns, simmering just beneath the surface.

I step to him, pressing the tip of the blade to the left side of his chest, one of the few spots he doesn’t have ink.

“What are you doing?” Aspen sits up fast, panic on her face.

“I told you I love you,” Knox says without looking at me. “And this is how I prove it.”

I press the blade down and carve her name, slow and clean. Drops of blood roll down his skin, and he doesn’t flinch. He’s still. Focused. Eyes never leaving hers.

“Knox…” she whispers, eyes shining.

“This is our way to always carry you,” he says. “Ours. Always.”

Tears slip down her cheeks. When the last letter is finished, she launches into his arms, kissing him with the same devotion he just showed her.

“I’m next,” Max says.

Aspen turns and reaches for my hand. “Don’t…” Her voice cracks. “You should do Ryker’s. Not mine.”

We all freeze.

Ryker steps forward. “Maybe we can do both,” he says and takes the knife from my hand.

He carves A + R into Max’s chest. The blood beads quickly, but Max just chuckles.

“It’s teenage shit, but I don’t care.” Aspen wraps her arms around him, and Ryker hands me the knife back.

“I think Max should do you,” I say, meeting Ryker’s eyes. “Feels right. ”

Max turns, knife in hand. “Where do you want it?”

Ryker hesitates, then taps his chest near his heart. Max nods.

Aspen holds Ryker’s hand while the blade cuts.

Knox returns with a handful of gauze sheets soaked in alcohol. “It’s all I found,” he mutters.

“Seriously?” Max winces. “Nothing stronger?”

Knox shrugs. “At least you won’t get an infection.”

“My turn,” I say, reaching for the knife again, but Aspen grabs it first.

“Can I?” she asks, crawling toward me on the mattress.

My cock jolts at the sight.

“Of course.” I hand it over.

She presses it to my chest, but she’s too soft, barely scratching the skin.

“Gotta go deeper, doll.” I tilt her chin up, smirking. “Don’t tease me.”

“I don’t think I can,”

Before she can finish, Knox moves behind her, covers her hand with his, and presses . The blade bites.

“Good girl,” I groan as she finishes the last line.

When she’s done, she keeps the knife. She moves to the head of the bed, lying back like a fucking queen.

“Okay,” she says, eyes flashing with wicked amusement. “Who’s going first?”

We all freeze.

Ryker tilts his head. “What do you mean? ”

“It’s my turn.” She taps the soft skin above her breasts. “Each of you will carve your initial.”

Knox’s face drops .

“Not gonna happen, pet,” he growls, stepping forward to take the knife.

But she sits up, holding it way too close to her body.

“Aspen.” His hands twitch at his sides.

“You either do it, or I do it myself,” she says, locking eyes with me. “You cut me already!”

I breathe out. “I did. But those were shallow, Aspen. If you want a scar…”

“It’ll need to be deeper. I know.” She lifts her chin. “I don’t give a shit.”

She presses the tip against her chest.

“I’ll go first,” Knox growls, jaw tight.

She stares him down. “If you leave with the fucking knife, Reaper, I swear to God I’ll bite your dick off.”

The room goes silent .

Then Max snorts . “Jesus, Aspen,” he mutters, laughing.

“Give me the damn knife, brat,” Knox says, raising his hand.

She passes it to him without hesitation.

“Lay back,” he orders.

She lies back against the pillows; she’s not scared. Her eyes never leave ours. And for a moment I feel like we are being tested. She is pushing our limits as we push hers.

Her chest rises slowly. Her skin glows, flushed and damp, covered in dried sweat and bite marks and bruises we left behind. Her eyes are glass-like, dazed when they meet mine.

He takes the knife, kneels beside the bed, and rests a hand over her ribs.

“We’ll go small,” he mutters, jaw tight. “So we don’t leave too much damage.”

He presses a kiss to her sternum.

Then he carves.

A soft slice. Just deep enough.

Small “k” just beneath her left collarbone.

She hisses, and her hand curls into the sheets, but she doesn’t look away; she watches him carve himself into her.

When it’s done, he leans down and kisses the spot, blood warm and shining against her skin.

“Your turn,” he says, handing the knife to Max.

Max sits beside her, his hand resting low on her stomach, steadying her breathing.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“Do it,” she whispers.

Max’s letter,“m”,goes just under her right breast. The blade slices in slower. More hesitant. His hand trembles for a second, but then he locks in. When the cut is done, he presses his forehead to her shoulder, breathing her in.

Then he passes the knife to Ryker. Ryker’s hand shakes as he takes it; he doesn’t speak or smile. He kneels by her hip, pressing the blade just above her heart, and carves a small, sharp “R.”

She gasps and arches slightly but doesn’t stop him .

When he finishes, his hands are coated in blood, and his lips are parted like he wants to apologize, but she reaches for him, thumb brushing his cheek.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “It’s you.”

Then they all look at me.

The knife’s passed into my palm.

My chest tightens. The weight of it doesn’t scare me. But the sight of her bleeding, her body now marked by all of us, makes something in me snap.

I carve the “D” between her breasts.

She flinches.

Then moans.

When I finish, I drop the knife onto the floor and lean in, licking the blood from one mark to the next. My tongue dragging across the sting of fresh pain. Her skin is hot and shaking.

“Dante,” she breathes.

Fuck it.

I press my body over hers, and the second the head of my cock drags over her entrance, I know.

I’m fucked.

She’s slick, so fucking soaked and still trembling from what the others did. Her skin’s flushed, marked with blood, sweat, initials.

I push in slowly, and holy fuck.

She gasps, back arching beneath me, and I feel every ripple of her walls sucking me.

My cock twitches inside her, and the piercings drag against her walls. Every single one of them, and I feel her clench tighter .

“Dante,” she breathes, pleading.

“Fuck,” I groan. “You feel like heaven.”

The friction’s maddening, in the best way. She’s so warm, so tight around me, and the way her body wraps around my cock feels like she was made for it, like she already knows every curve, every piercing, every damn vein.

I thrust once, slow and deep, and she whimpers, quiet, broken, fucking perfect. I drag back, just enough to feel the stretch, then push in again, a little harder this time, a little deeper.

Her nails bite into my shoulders. Her breath hitches, her chest trembling against mine. I tell myself to slow down, to take it easy, to let her adjust… but it’s hard. So fucking hard.

Because she’s gripping me like she doesn’t want to let go.

And I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.

But the way she wraps around me, the way her hips tilt up and beg for more, the way my name falls off her lips like she’s praying?

I snap.

My thrusts turn brutal. Raw. I fuck her like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, and maybe it is. Her body takes it all . Her eyes flutter, mouth open, moaning my name, whispering that she’s close again.

I grip her thighs, angle deeper, my piercings dragging over her sweet spot with every slam of my hips.

She gasps. Again. And again.

My balls tighten. My spine pulls. My body locks.

It’s coming fast.

“Doll,” I growl. “I’m going, fuck, I’m going to fill you. ”

“Do it,” she moans, hands gripping the back of my neck. “I want it.”

I sink my teeth into her shoulder, and the orgasm rips through me.

Hard. Violent. My entire body spasms. I choke on her name. My cock pulses, deep inside her, and I fill her with so much cum I feel it leaking before I’ve even stopped moving.

“Fuck, fuck, Aspen,” I can’t stop shaking.

I’m still buried inside her, still twitching, still fucking coming.

Her walls milk every drop from me. And my piercings, those thick steel studs, grind one last time against her swollen walls, making her shiver beneath me.

I collapse onto her, arms caging her in, breath ragged against her neck.

And for a moment, there’s nothing else.

Just her.