Page 37 of Saint’s Revenge

My ribs hate this idea but I'm too far gone to care. I roll over, get on all fours even though it aches.

Lucas positions himself behind me, hands gripping my hips. "This okay?"

"Yes, just fuck me! Please!"

He doesn't wait. Just starts fucking me hard and fast, hips slapping against my ass with each thrust. I love the sound.

"Fuck—" I drop to my forearms, ass still high, and he goes even deeper. "Oh god, Lucas—"

"You look perfect like this," he pants. "Taking my cock. Mine. You're mine, Riley."

"Yours," I gasp. "Always yours!"

One hand leaves my hip to press between my shoulder blades, holding me down while he fucks into me harder.

"I love you," he says, voice breaking. "Love you so fucking much!"

"I love you too!" My voice cracks on a moan. "Always loved you!"

His rhythm is getting erratic. Desperate. I can tell he's close by the way his breathing has gone ragged, the way his fingers dig into my hip.

"Where—"

"Inside," I interrupt. "Come inside me. Want all of it."

He groans and his thrusts get rougher, chasing his release. I push back against him, meeting every thrust, taking everything.

"Riley, fuck…"

He slams in one final time and comes with a shout. I feel him pulse inside me, filling me with heat, his whole body going rigid. I clench around him, milking every drop. He groans, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

Finally, he stills. Both of us breathing hard, covered in sweat, shaking. He pulls out and helps me roll onto my back. Immediately checks my ribs, hands gentle.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." My voice is hoarse. Satisfied. "That was perfect."

He lies down beside me, pulling me against his chest. We stay like that, just breathing, just existing together. I can feel him leaking out of me. Can feel the pleasant ache everywhere he gripped, thrust and claimed.

Five years of wanting this. And it was better than any fantasy.

"I meant it," Lucas says. "I love you. I'm not leaving again."

"I know." I kiss his chest. "I love you too."

We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, my head resting over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm that tells me he's alive, he's here, he's mine.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder. Not sexual, just soothing. Like he needs to keep touching me to believe this is real.

"Do you remember the day we first became friends?" I ask him.

Lucas is quiet for a moment, then I feel him smile against my hair. "Yeah. We were seven. You punched Tyler Morrison in the face for pulling my hair on the playground."

"He deserved it." I trace circles on his chest. "You were crying and no one else was doing anything about it."

"I wasn't crying."

"You were absolutely crying." I tilt my head to look at him. "And then you told me girls shouldn't fight and I told you that was stupid."