Page 59 of Ravaged Saints

“The fuck you are.” I pull him off the wall and toss him into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

“Max!” Ryker snarls, his hands pushing against my chest, and I take a step back, but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable—he wants to challenge me, like usual. That bratty, defiant attitude of his, the one that always makes me want to fuck him hard against the damn wall, only makes me want him more.

I smirk and step closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You want to fight, Ryker? Fine by me. You know how much I love putting your bratty self in place.”

He grins, and I see the challenge in his eyes, so I stalk toward him, and that’s when he goes for it. His arms shoot out to push me, but I’m quicker, ducking and grabbing his legs, sweeping them out from under him. He crashes onto his back with a grunt, and I’m on him, straddling his hips. “You need to work on your fighting skills, Ryker,” I taunt.

He chuckles and smirks. “I’m a sniper, not a fighter,” he mocks, but we both know he could put up one hell of a fight if he wanted.

He grabs my thighs, trying to throw me off, but I lock my weight on top of him. I’m heavier, stronger, and if there’s one thing I’m damn good at, it’s taking down a fucker.

I grab his wrists, pinning them to the ground with ease, and my body presses down on him, trapping him beneath me as I lean in close.

My lips brush his ear, a low growl rumbling from my chest as I linger there, my breath hot against his skin. Stop being a brat and get on your fucking knees, Ryker.”

Those big black eyes of his light up with mischief, and he smirks, defiant as ever. “Make me,” he snorts.

Yanking his hair, I force him to sit up on his knees, gripping the back of his head while my other hand grabs his chin, my thumb pressing against his lips, forcing its way into his mouth and down on his tongue, holding him still, and he winces with pain.

“Now be a good boy and stay still,” I groan.

His eyes lock on mine, a teasing, smug smile on his face. He’s always the same playful asshole, the one that drives me fucking insane.

Ryker and I met through Knox. They trained together before the mission that changed everything—the one that turned us into rogues, mercenaries who take the jobs no one else will touch, the ones who get their hands dirty, but at least we know who the enemy is, not like the betrayal from our commander, the man who left us with blood on our hands and a target on our backs.

“Max?” Ryker’s pulls me from the memories seared into my mind.

I straighten up, unzipping my jeans, and Ryker licks his lips, his eyes locked on me. Fuck, he’s a sight to see—he’s the only one of us without a single tattoo, a lean body, messy black hair, and those goddamn black eyes that drive me insane.

He grabs my hard cock, precum leaking, and I close my eyes as his lips wrap around my cock, and the heat of his mouth makes my breath hitch. “Fuck, Ryker,” I groan, gripping his hair as his tongue twirls around my cock. He’s incredible at this and knows exactly how to drive me insane.

I thrust deeper, hitting the back of his throat, and he gags slightly but stays in place. His hands grip my thighs hard as his body shifts, the bulge in his jeans straining against the fabric.

“You’re such a good boy for me,” I grunt, tightening my grip on his hair. My body tenses as the pressure builds. Pulling out, I let out a shuddering breath, a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips to my cock.

I grab him by the chin and pull him up into a rough kiss, tasting myself on him. He melts into it, his hands sliding up my shoulders, but when he pulls back, there’s hesitation in his eyes.

“Max…” he whispers.

I silence him, spinning him toward the bed and pressing him down. I know what he’s going to say; he’s always fighting this, us.

I unbuckle his pants and tug them down, grabbing the lube from the nightstand. I spread it over him, my hand caressing his skin, my fingers pressing on his ass, and he let out a low groan. “Fuck, Max.”

“Do you want this Ryk?” I whisper in his ear, low and possessive.

“Yeah,” His breathless answer makes me even harder.

I place my cock at his entrance, and when I push into him slowly, his moan is primal and raw, and I thrust, pressing my hands on his muscular shoulders, my breathing picking up.

His body arches, and his hand moves to his cock, jerking himself off as I thrust harder. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with his gasps and curses.

“Goddamn,” he growls, gripping the sheets. “You feel so fucking good.”

I lean down, my breath against his ear. “Then stop fighting me, Ryker. Stop pretending this isn’t what you want.”

His body moves in sync with mine, his breathing ragged and shallow. I grab his hips, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he’s holding back even now. My hand slides around him, gripping his cock, and I stroke him faster; his hips jerk, head snapping back as he moans my name, raw and desperate, spilling himself over my hand and onto the sheets.

“Good boy,” I murmur against his ear, and I feel him shudder beneath me.

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