Page 31 of Revenge Saints

She swallows all of it, tongue curling around me like she’s milking it.

I look down, chest heaving, and there she is.

On her knees with a smug smile. Her lips swollen, chin wet, eyes gleaming like she just slayed the beast.

Fucking hell.I’ve never looked at a woman and thoughtmineso hard in my life.

“You proud of yourself, pet?” I rasp, still leaning on the wall for support like she fucking crippled me.

She grins, tilting her head. “Mm-hmm. I had the Reaper lose his mind.”

I chuckle, ragged and breathless. “You didn’t make me lose it. You blew it wide open.”

I reach down, grab her chin, and tilt her head up, brushing my lips on hers.

“I—”

Wish I could tell her… Tell her how I really feel, but I can’t, not until I have Dante back.

Max

“Idon’t think I’ve ever heard Knox come like that,” Ryker chuckles, tipping his glass back.

Knox isn’t the noisy type. Hell, half the time you wouldn’t know he was even breathing. So hearing him lose control? That’s rare.

Before the plague hit, we had our share of women. Plenty, actually. Most of the time we shared them, Ryker and I. Nothing serious, just the kind of fun you don’t name or keep. During missions, we’d hole up in rundown apartments, flop houses, whatever we could afford to stay off-grid. Hit theclubs, unwind a bit… sometimes to loosen tongues, sometimes just to feel something.

Even then, Knox wasn’t a player like us. But he didn’t need to be. Women went to him like moths to a bloody inferno. Six foot six, tattooed to hell, icy blue eyes that dared you to try him. He was a walking, brooding fantasy. Dangerous. The kind of red flag you know better than to touch, but you do it anyway, just to see if he really fucks like a god.

And judging by the way the girls used to stumble out of his room with that dazed look… yeah. He lived up to the myth.

But Aspen? She’s different. It’sdifferent.The way he looks at her, touches her, fights for her—it’s not just sex.

She feeds his primal side like no one else, and the way he looks at her, the longing in his eyes, I’ve never seen it in him.

I feel a hand on my thigh as my mind drifts to the past, and when I glance down, Ryker’s fingers are already sliding up, dangerously close to my zipper.

“Ryker,” I murmur, lifting my gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark, teasing. That smirk? Pure temptation dressed like the devil.

Ryker and I… We had our women before the world went to shit. We shared most of the time but never touched each other when we did. That was the unspoken rule.

He only ever let me fuck him behind closed doors. I never pushed for more. Never needed to. But now? Now my mind won’t stop conjuring images of him bent over, moaning my name while he’s still buried deep inside Aspen.

My cock throbs at the memories of us in the shower rightbefore we lost our home.

His hand shifts higher, hovering over the bulge straining against my jeans. Then he leans in, breath hot against my neck, making every nerve in my body tighten.

“You’re hard, Grave.” He whispers my codename like a sin, and fuck me, it makes my cock twitch.

This motherfucker knowsexactlywhich buttons to push.

I grab his hand before he presses it on my hard cock.

“Ryker, unless youreallywant me to fuck you,” I growl, low, teeth clenched, “you better stop the teasing, mate.”

“Fuck, I love when your British accent slips out.” He whispers.

“Come on, Ryk.” I grit my teeth, clinging to control, and he just keeps pushing, the fucking brat.