Rebel Revenge (Saint View Rebels Book 1)
Rebel Revenge: Chapter 30

In the middle of a messy kitchen, half-made cake batter sitting in a bowl waiting for my attention, all I could think about was storming upstairs to Kian’s room. I wanted to search through his things and replace some sort of proof that backed up the things Sasha had said.

Or better, proved she was wrong.

But Kian had been nothing but a friend to me since I’d moved in here. He’d gone out of his way to make me feel at home when everything had felt unsettled. He’d helped me with my training out of the goodness of his own heart. He’d cooked and cleaned and never asked for anything in return.

I couldn’t take Sasha’s word over his. I couldn’t invade his privacy when he’d installed those locks so I could have mine. It just didn’t feel right.

After not listening to my instincts too much lately, I wasn’t making that mistake again.

If Kian had something to do with my mother’s death, I’d replace out one way or another.

A knock at the door had me jumping a mile. I rushed to it and peered through the peephole.

Fang.

Exactly who I needed right now. I swear to God the man seemed to have a radar that must start pinging whenever I was feeling out of control.

Just him standing there on the other side of the door brought a calm feeling of safety that was intoxicating. I threw open the door and launched myself at the man.

He caught me with an oof of surprise. But he didn’t put me down. He dropped a bag at his feet and hefted me up higher in his arms so our faces were level.

“Hi,” I chirped at him, leaning in and brushing my lips over his, but then decided that wasn’t a satisfactory greeting and deepened the kiss, pressing my tongue against his lips and smiling to myself when he tightened his arms around me to accept it.

Finally, he pulled away and focused his gorgeous blue eyes on me. “Hi yourself. What did I do to deserve all that?”

I slid down his body to stand on my own two feet and picked up his bag for him, dragging it inside. “I just like you. You’re exactly who I wanted to see right now.”

“You’re always the one I want to see, Pix. Give me back that bag, it’s heavy.”

I flexed an arm at him. “I’m strong.”

“You are. But you’re also a pipsqueak, and I’m not letting you carry my shit. That’s my job. Give me the bag.”

I huffed at his indifference to my guns display. I thought I was starting to see a little more definition, thanks to Kian’s morning workouts, but maybe that was wishful thinking. I handed over the bag though, because there was no way he was going to let me carry his shit. I swear, the man would carry me around everywhere if I let him. I never lifted a finger if he was in a hundred-mile radius. It was odd after spending so much of my life taking care of someone else. I’d never had someone do it for me.

He followed me into the kitchen, surveying the mess I’d made. “I hope Kian isn’t home to see you destroying his kitchen.”

“It’s not destroyed. I’m baking.”

“There’s flour on every surface. And why is it so hot in here?” He unzipped his leather jacket.

I ran a finger through the light dusting of flour on the countertop. “I had the oven on…then I got distracted and went next door, and that became a longer conversation than I had expected, and when I got back the kitchen was nicely heated.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a kitchen chair. “You could bake a cake in here, even without putting it in the oven.”

The temperature likely had something to do with the thermostat I’d cranked up that morning when the house was chilly, but I burst into laughter before I could explain. “What is that?” I pointed at Fang’s chest.

The tight black T-shirt simply said, “Peter, Pumpkin Eater,” in bold orange text.

He gave me a wicked grin that immediately sent a jolt of lust through me. “There’s a matching pumpkin costume for you in my bag.”

“There is not.”

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Open it and see for yourself.”

I was totally calling his bluff. I knelt at his feet and unzipped his duffel bag. I could barely contain myself when on top there legitimately was a bright-orange pumpkin outfit with a cute green Peter Pan collar. I took it out and shook it in his direction, laughter spilling over.

“Put it on.” His gaze raked over mine. “Let me eat you.”

I looked up at him. “You’re not serious?”

“Have I ever joked about going down on you before?”

Come to think of it, he hadn’t. “The guys will be home soon. We should go upstairs.”

“Put it on, Pix.”

A shiver of anticipation and the dominant tone in his voice rolled through me. “Right here?”

“Pumpkins belong in the kitchen, not the bedroom.”

I pulled off my T-shirt and went to put the costume over my head, but his frown stopped me. “What?”

“Since when do pumpkins have underwear? Take it all off, Pix.”

“It’s the middle of the day!”

He shrugged. “When you got a craving, you got a craving. Off.”

I threw my shirt at his face playfully, but he just peeled it off, his gaze sweeping across my cleavage and bare stomach. He watched every movement while I took off my leggings and panties, and finally, my bra.

“Happy?” I asked him in challenge as I stood stark naked in the kitchen.

“As a pig in shit. You should never wear clothes.”

“I’d get cold. Pass me the pumpkin.”

He picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the floor somewhere near the refrigerator. “Nah. Like you better just like this.”

He closed in on me, leaning down to kiss me hard. His tongue stroked against mine, demanding, while heat rushed to my core at being so completely naked while he was still fully dressed.

And maybe a little at the fact all the windows were open, and Kian and Vaughn would be back at any minute.

I squeezed my thighs together.

Fang kissed me searingly deep, a promise of all the things he could do to me. His tongue was a wicked tease, flicking and tasting, promising once he used it on my pussy, I would forget my own name.

“Need to taste you,” he murmured. “Every inch of you. Let me.”

“Yes,” I whispered over his lips, a real need for him to get between my thighs starting up.

But the man lived to torture me. He ran his lips down my neck, taking little sucks of my skin as he went. He pressed kisses across my breasts until he got to my nipples.

On his knees, his head was the perfect height for playing with them, and he took his time, sucking one into his mouth, his fingers toying with the other. He licked and rolled my nipples until I was so horny, I wondered if I could come from nipple stimulation alone.

With him on his knees for me the way he was, it was a serious possibility.

I ran my fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his face and pulling out the tie at the nape of his neck to let it fall free. God, this man was beautiful. I had no idea how other women didn’t see it. How they didn’t see the way his eyes devoured you. The way his stare lit up every part of me. The way his scars and tattoos and piercings only added to the whole bad-boy appeal.

Bad on the outside. So freaking good on the inside.

It dawned on me, maybe other people didn’t see him like that because he didn’t show them that side of him.

I was grateful for it every time.

His lips trailed down my belly, and I could barely breathe in anticipation of him getting to the spot I needed him most.

He didn’t disappoint. He never did. It was like he lived to go down on me, and he took his sweet-ass time, prodding his tongue between my folds, tasting my arousal, coating his lips and beard in it without a care. The scratch of his bristles against my sensitive flesh only heightened the sensation, the soft lick of his tongue soothing and sweet.

An orgasm started up its warning signals, and he felt them before I did. He pulled away and kissed my mound. “Turn around.”

I whimpered at him stopping, but he was insistent.

“Turn around. I’m tasting every inch of you.”

My eyes flared at the implication. “Every inch?”

“Every. Single. One.” It was said with such certainty, it left nothing to the imagination.

And yet, I couldn’t shut up. “You mean…you’re going to lick my…pumpkin hole?”

He chuckled. “Turn around and replace out.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

But bless me, pumpkin gods, ’cause I was going to sin. I turned around.

“Lean over the table, Pix. Spread your legs.”

I wasn’t even sure my damn legs would cooperate. It was probably lucky he wanted me to be half on the table. At least it would support my weight.

He spread my legs wide, exposing every inch of me to him, and if I hadn’t been so damn turned on, I might have been mortified.

But Fang had never made me feel anything but completely desirable. So even like this, legs spread, ass in the air, I never thought to tell him no.

He put his mouth to my pussy once more, tonguing my clit while he pumped two fingers in and out of my core. I moaned loudly, the orgasm building again until Kian and Vaughn could have walked in with lunch and I wouldn’t have cared. I would have demanded Fang keep going and the boys could just take a seat and wait until we were done.

Too bad if their lunch went cold.

I ground back against his hand. Savored in the lick of his tongue.

Waited for it to move higher.

When it did, I let out a shuddering moan that could have been heard halfway down the street. It was too good, too much, and yet not enough all at once.

His fingers pumping inside me, hitting my G-spot with every thrust never stopped. He added pressure to my clit with his other hand, while his tongue went to places no pumpkin eater could tell their mother about. He tongue fucked me ’til I was weak, and until I begged for more.

His jeans came down in a heartbeat.

A condom wrapper ripping.

My fingers diving between my legs to rub my clit because I couldn’t bear to let the orgasm trail off again.

His dick sliding in was the perfect stretch. He withdrew then pumped back so slowly it was almost torture, but I found myself matching his pace, easing up on my clit so I wouldn’t get overstimulated.

His finger on my ass was all the stimulation I needed. He rubbed a thumb against my tight rear hole and then leaned over me, growling in my ear, “I want to fuck you here. So fucking bad. You have no idea how fucking tempting this little hole is.”

“Do it,” I moaned, desperate for more.

I’d lived a pretty adventurous sex life. There wasn’t much that was brand-new to me. Anal had not been something I loved with other partners, but none of them had ever treated me the way Fang did. None of them had ever touched me the way he did. Taken their time, built me up, edged me until I’d legitimately begged them to fuck me there the way I just had with him.

“Soon, Pix. Not now. You need more prep. When I fuck you there it’ll be as sweet and easy as taking your pussy because you’ll be so ready for me. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

Tears formed behind my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. I felt too much for this man. Way too freaking much.

I rubbed frantically at my clit, and he seemed to get the idea that we were edging feelings that were too big for me to utter.

Sex was easier. Sex didn’t have to come with the strings that were currently threatening to wrap their way around my heart and tie me to him.

He fucked me harder, pumping into my pussy while fingering my ass.

I came with his name on my lips and his cock buried deep inside me.

His own shouts of relief mingling a moment later.

His lips on my spine. His breaths on my skin.

My heart beating, just for him.