Page 30 of Saber's Claim
I take it. He pulls me up and into his side, and I catch Duke watching us go. Not jealous. Not bitter. Hungry. Like a man staring at a meal he had once and lost, and can still taste.
Saber pulls me into his side and walks me back toward the noise. The music is louder here. The porch light throws gold across the yard, and Trapper is asleep in a lawn chair with a spatula in his lap.
“You want to call it a night?” His lips are still against my hair.
“I’m exhausted.”
His hand drops to my hip. His thumb hooks into the waistband of my jeans, and he pulls me closer. “Not too tired, I hope.”
The way he says it turns my exhaustion into something else entirely.
I tip my chin up. “Take me inside and find out.”
His hand slides to the small of my back. We pass the porch. Joker is dealing cards on the railing. Razor tells him he’s cheating. Joker tells Razor to prove it. Bree raises her bottle as we pass, and Sage whispers something that makes them both laugh.
Nobody asks where we’re going. Everybody knows.
The screen door closes behind us, and the party keeps going, and Saber’s hand is on my back, and the cut is on my shoulders, and I am home.
EPILOGUE
SHELBY
Three Months Later
Saber’s mouthis on my shoulder before I’m fully awake.
His arm is across my waist, heavy and warm, and his hips press against me from behind. I’m on my side in the tangle of sheets we kicked to the foot of the bed at some point during the night, and the early Arizona sun is cutting through the curtains in long gold slashes across the floor.
His hand slides under the hem of my shirt. His shirt. His palm spreads flat across my stomach, and his fingers drag down, slow and deliberate, until they slip beneath the waistband of my underwear.
I arch back against him. He’s already hard, thick, and hot against my lower back, and his mouth finds the spot below my ear that makes my brain go blank.
“I need to get ready for my first day of school.” It comes out breathless. Useless.
His fingers slide between my legs. Two of them, dragging through the slick heat he’s responsible for, gliding over my clit.
“I’m helping you get ready. Starting your day off right.” His mouth is on my neck. His teeth graze my skin, and I grab his wrist—not to stop him. To keep him exactly where he is.
He rolls me onto my back. The sheets are gone, and his body covers mine, and his mouth drags from my throat to the swell of my breast. He pushes my shirt up and his lips close over my nipple, and the sound I make fills the quiet bedroom and bounces off the walls of the ranch house that is ours.
Ours.
His fingers are relentless. Stroking, pressing, curling inside me while his mouth works my breast, and the orgasm is already building at the base of my spine—a tight, hot coil that winds tighter every time his thumb drags across my clit.
“Saber, oh my god.”
My orgasm crashes through me in rolling waves that lock my thighs around his hand and pull a sound from my chest that isn’t a word. His mouth comes back to mine, swallowing it, kissing me through the aftershocks until my body goes liquid beneath him.
He pulls back. Looks down at me. Those blue eyes, sharp and hungry, and he’s not done.
He hooks his thumbs into my underwear and drags them down. I kick them off, and his boxers follow—shoved down with one hand while his mouth stays on my throat. The head of his cock drags through the wetness of my arousal, and my hips roll up to meet him.
He pushes in. One long, slow stroke that stretches me open and drives the air from my lungs. My nails dig into his shoulders. He’s thick and hard and buried to the hilt, and neither of us moves. His forehead drops against mine, and the sound he makes is raw—scraped up from somewhere deep, like he’s been needing this since before he opened his eyes.
He pulls back and drives in again. Harder. My spine arches off the mattress, and my legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He fucks me in deep, grinding strokes that hit every nerve ending I have, and the headboard knocks against the wall with a rhythm that would embarrass me if I could think.
I can’t think. His hand slides under my hip, tilting me, and the new angle drags his cock across the spot that makes my vision go white at the edges.
