Page 56 of Ramsay

Gripping Ramsay’s bicep tightly as I spy everything on offer, I turn away from the knowledge that it would be so easy to slip into it, take the sweet as fuck high and check out from this moment.

I bite my tongue against the need coursing through my veins because I know I’m fucking screwed. I can't even have a drink to take the edge off. Nope, I have to hang out in a drug den with a bunch of fucked up teens sober as a judge. Fuck my life.

Ramsay pulls me through the crowd, blazing a trail through them arrogantly, uncaring of the dancers in the middle of the floor. Many of the guys back away cautiously while the chicks stare after him with fuck me eyes.

Ha! Ramsay Yates is a dick, ladies—don't bother.

I’m handed a drink without being asked what I like, because—yeah, dick, as Ramsay mostly ignores me and pulls me further into the crowd, occasionally handing out greetings and smiling icily like a fucking king with his court.

But when he pulls me through the sliding doors out to the balcony, I skid to a stop, my pulse jackknifing. The railing is not five feet in front of me, and immediately I feel sweat bead at the back of my neck.

Ramsay tugs me forward, and I follow with slow steps, bile roiling in my stomach. I stop beside him absently while he chats with someone I can’t see, because my mind is cloudy with visions of growing dizzy and flying over the edge. Logically I know I’m fine, but fear is not fucking logical.

I’m so caught out that I only look at Ramsay when he pinches my arm, to see he’s glaring at me with his stern blue eyes, and expectation written across his beautiful features. Fuck.

Get your shit together, Willow.

With a ghastly smile, I tune into the conversation and realize he was introducing me to some guy standing before us. He repeats himself albeit with a note of impatience.

“Willow, as I said, this is Chance Meadows. Chance, my beautiful date, Willow.”

Way to lay it on thick. Wow.

Assessing my mark, as Ramsay referred to him earlier, for this can only be him when he’s the only rich kid Ramsay deigned to introduce me to, this after ignoring my existence through the whole of the fucking party, I note that Chance Meadows is a dick.

I can see it in his smile as it grows wide while he leers at my chest, not even bothering to greet me like a human being. With a silent sigh, I resign myself to fending off his advances while Ramsay and the guys do whatever the fuck it is, they’re here for.

Apparently, my job is to my whore myself out. I should’ve known when he told me earlier, because this wasn’t about me but the tits and ass I have to offer.

“Hey, Wendy. Nice to meet you,” Chance slurs, his eyes still fixated on my tits.

I mean, c’mon, at least pretend to have some manners. Aren’t these kids put in some sort of school for that shit in diapers?

While Chance stares at me lewdly, Ramsay narrows his eyes at me before fading away. Ignoring him and his warning, I grab Chance’s arm and tug him away from the railing and my certain death.

Chance follows easily, stumbling under the movement, because even better, he’s fucking wasted. Ramsay didn’t need me because this guy is two seconds away from passing out on his overpriced couch, anyway.

I’m close to said couch, pressed safely against the window when Chance pulls away. My skin prickles and I swallow a groan, yanking on him but he backs away with a shake of his head. And before I can protest, he grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the railing, which I can't help but perseverate on as we join a larger group of people.

“Chance man, who’s the hottie?” His equally trashed friend asks, also swaying on his feet dangerously close to the fucking edge. Who are these people?

Glancing away from the abyss, I narrow my eyes at Diem when I see him peek his head around a curtain, but before I can blink, he’s gone. I surmise from the brief look that they’re wherever they need to be but if I’m not mistaken it’s the apartment opposite this one because the balcony ends where the window begins.

I’m a little confused as to why the guys didn’t just come up with us if they were going to make an appearance anyway, but whatever.

“So, Wendy,” Chance mutters. “Hey, where did Ramsay go?”

Grabbing his arm, I smile sweetly and say, “He’s in the bathroom.”

“Oh,” he says with a grin, pulling me into his arms and planting his mouth over mine.

Ugh. I allow the kiss because hey if it means he’s distracted, I’ll take the hit, but he’s a shitty kisser with a sloppy tongue. He groans into my mouth, even though I’m dead fucking weight, and refuse to return the favor.

Pulling me around, he pushes me against something hard. It’s impossible not to gag under the bitter taste of alcohol and closing my eyes against the urge to shove him away, I focus on anything but the feel of his slimy tongue rubbing against mine.

Finally, he comes up for air, just when I thought I might suffocate, and I turn my head away, gasping. Fuck, that was excruciating.

It takes a blissful moment of breathing in the sweet air, before I realize I’m leaning against the fucking railing, and then my stomach drops out from under me as I stare at the black void of nothing hundreds of feet from the safety of the ground.

---