Page 42 of Ramsay

Resolved, I buck into his hand giving him what he wants, and he slides inside, curling his fingers before rubbing his thumb against my clit.

From a distance, I can see Diem pounding on his opponent, his muscles gleaming in the harsh light, his body a work of art, like porn for my eyes, and it ratchets up my need as I thrust into Ramsay’s hand.

He fucks me steadily, grinding the heel of his hand against me, and with the visual of Diem and Ramsay’s magical fingers, I explode, gushing all over him as a sweet orgasm rocks my body.

“Oh,” I gasp, collapsing against him.

He tightens his hold, preventing me from melting to the floor. But after a moment in which he clutches me while I convulse around him, he slowly pulls back.

I glance at him sideways, watching mesmerized as he licks his fingers, and rumbles below his breath, “Good to the last drop. You do have a sweet pussy, so creamy and rich. But I digress because I never finished our conversation, Willow. You can’t come between my boys and me because you’re just a bitch in a long line of them trying to fuck her way to the top.”

I’m trembling, my limbs feel like noodles, and the room is hazy, so it takes a minute for his words to sink in. When they do, I stiffen, my euphoria fading, replaced by a dull ache in my chest.

All I can do is blink rapidly to avoid showing him my humiliation, which I will not do over this piece of shit.

“Fuck you,” I say quietly and walk off.

I pass the ring where Diem is kicking the shit out of his opponent. He spins in a playful skip, his face lit up, no doubt enjoying his power. Miraculously, our eyes meet through the large crowd, and his eyes narrow, looking me over with a crinkled brow.

He glances behind me, his eyes wide, but then he’s hit from behind and falls to the mat with a thud.

“Shit.”

Stepping toward the ring, my stomach swoops when the other dude starts kicking him in the stomach, but I’m grabbed from behind and forced toward the door.

At first, I assume it’s Ramsay and open my mouth to flay him with my barbed tongue, but Jagger speaks into my ear, and everything stops.

“Come on, baby.”

My eyes meet those of Diem’s, where he lies crouched in the ring, taking a series of hits to the abdomen, and with a strange ache in my stomach, I smile at him sadly before we disappear out the door.

“Now then, you thought you could run from me? No more, baby.”

“What do you want, Jagger?” I ask tiredly.

“I want you, bitch. It’s always been you. You can’t make a deal with the devil and expect to walk away.”

“You can’t just take me, my parents will come looking,” I insist, glancing around, but there’s not a single soul out here.

Barking out a laugh, he says, “Right, we both know your parents aren’t looking for shit. Still waiting for Carmen to come home? That bitch is dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“What would you know about it?” I ask shakily, pulling away.

“Defy me again, and you’ll see what I know,” he says roughly, throwing me against a car and wrapping his hand around my throat.

“Jagger,” I gasp, staring into his dead eyes where I see my pathetic visage reflected.

I dated this piece of shit. I gave up and accepted him. For what? This? A lifetime of outrunning criminals with a hard-on? What a waste.

Stepping into my space, Jagger shoves his knee between my legs and grinds against me, leering. “How’s that, baby? You used to get off, just like that.”

He’s breathing heavily, the weight of his breath repulsive against my skin. I shudder when he licks up my neck, turning my head away, only to meet the ice-cold eyes of Ramsay, standing at the end of the car.

Something dark passes over his face before he says, “Am I interrupting?”

Jagger’s head snaps up, and he growls, “Yeah, you’re interrupting. I’m about to fuck my girl. Do you mind?”

Ramsay raises a dark brow, still drilling me with his pale eyes and I shake my head infinitesimally, to which he smiles, his lip curling in warning.

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