Page 121 of Revenge Saints
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.
