Page 41 of Ramsay

Ramsay chuffs and stares me down, but he doesn’t call me on it, and I turn my attention back to the stage, avoiding his curious glare. We stand in silence, watching the next set of fighters enter the ring and my breath catches when Diem slides through the ropes with a murderous expression.

His opponent is a mean motherfucker with his own scowl, but I suspect it’s no match for Diem in his current mood. Diem swings around, cocking his head right then left as the crowd roars their approval. It’s meathead’s turn next, to which he gets a few claps and cheers, but it’s clear who the favorite is.

But it sails over Diem’s head as he eyes the crowd, searching over the faces with a scowl. Only when the emcee ends his rousing introduction does Diem turn back, and the fight gets underway.

With a frown, I cringe every time Diem’s face glances off his opponent’s fists. He’s giving as good as he’s getting, but it’s still painful to see.

After one particularly harsh blow, I turn my head with a grimace, freezing when Ramsay leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “Worried? You shouldn’t be.”

His mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel the caress of his breath, and it sends delicious shivers down my spine.

Scowling, I pull away and mutter, “Why would I be?”

It’s stupid to say the least but I do worry because I don’t enjoy seeing his pain. I don’t enjoy anyone’s pain for that matter.

Ramsay laughs, and I shudder, goosebumps breaking out over my skin as my nipples pucker in my thin shirt. Crossing my arms defensively, I damn him and his fucking amusement.

After a pulse of silence, he grabs my chin and pulls my head to the side. “You think you can come between us, love? Just so you know, Diem will fuck anything with holes.”

My heated skin pulses with irritation and I pull away, edging forward, but he just follows, wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling my back to his chest.

It steals my breath, and I melt against him before catching myself and standing ramrod straight. I’ve craved his touch for a year, and the reality is so much more than I could’ve imagined, but the specter of Jagger looming over me is a reminder that not all good things come in pretty packages.

At my reaction, he chuckles in my ear, and I hiss, “It never occurred to me to come between you that way. But now that you’ve mentioned it…”

“Impossible. As I said, Diem doesn’t care where he gets his dick wet.”

“And you?” I ask snidely.

“Me? Oh, love, I’d fuck you again if you begged.”

“Never,” I say, attempting to pull away again, but he just draws me closer.

“Never is a long time, shall we try it out, and see?”

“Try what out?” I croak.

Grabbing my tit between his fingers, he twirls my already tight nipple between the tips. I bite my lip, refusing to move, to give him the satisfaction of a response. Still, I’m only human, and I crave what comes next.

When he pinches me harshly in punishment, I lean my head back and suppress a moan.

Tingles shoot straight to my core, and I ignore the way he smiles against my skin, clenching my hands into fists to keep from begging with my body.

“You’ve got gorgeous tits, full and lush. Pretty pink nipples too.”

“What?” I ask, going stiff. He must have seen my nipples when they took those fucking pictures.

Dammit.

Feeling exposed, I go to pull awayagain, but he whispers, “Relax.”

And struggling between what I know I should do, which is kick him in the balls, and what I want to do, I let him choose for me when he runs his hands down my abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Sliding beneath my pants, he seeks out my core, running his fingers across my lips as he massages between the folds and groans low in his throat.

I’m speechless, caught between the hurt infused rage and need for the fucking orgasm his fingers promise. Not to mention, I can feel his arousal pressing against my back creating a fiery pulse I can’t ignore.

Whatever. I’ll take what I want and leave him hanging. Fucker.

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