Page 67 of Ramsay

When I only stare at him, he grabs my hair and wrenches it back, circling his hand around my neck.

“Don’t make me hurt you, baby,” he croons, but I see the pleasure behind his eyes. He enjoys this. My pain.

When I don’t respond, he squeezes until I see stars and nod my head shakily under his scrutiny. Damning myself, I chew the damn pills. Maybe I would’ve been better off dying at the hands of a faceless monster, for this slow death may end up being far more painful.

As soon as I comply, he smooths my hair back with a soft smile, before kissing my forehead and saying, “Good girl.”

But I refuse to meet his gaze, which only amuses him as he pulls me from the car, and we enter the venue through a back entrance.

Immediately Jagger’s bombarded by customers, leaving me leaning against a wall while he does his business, but I note he doesn’t go far.

I’m perilously close to tears which is why I avoid the masses, hoping I can get through this without losing another piece of myself. I worked so damn hard and for what? Another fucking dick trying to be the master to my puppet.

After a while, I start to feel the slow flush entering my system, and I revel in the rush even as I acknowledge how far I thought I had come.

Wearily, I close my eyes and rub my face with numb fingers, pretending this isn’t me, but I cannot escape myself and the awful mistakes I’ve made.

Soon, none of it matters though because I’m floating free and when the crowd roars, I flip my eyes open lazily, watching through a haze as Diem skips around the ring with a dangerous grin.

Raising his hands to the crowd, he smiles wider as they cheer loudly, but through my glassy gaze, I see the grim lines around his mouth. His passion is banked, his enjoyment of the act of beating the shit out of his opponent gone.

Since where one Sinner is, the others surely follow, I search the crowd for Oliver and Ramsay, spying them in the corner against the far wall where I hid away the last time.

The remembrance of Ramsay’s hands skating down my body and fingering me in a room full of people cascades through my system and I undulate against the wall like a cat in heat.

“Hey.”

Turning my head, I find Bone standing before me with a question in his eyes and giving him a lazy smile, I say, “Hey back.”

He’s cut off from whatever he was going to say though when Jagger steps forward, and sneers, “What the fuck you want with my girl?”

Bone glances between us and a curl of sober awareness flows through me. With a tiny shake of my head, I warn him, and he steps back.

“Nothing,” he says with a frown before disappearing into the crowd.

Jagger looks after him with a nasty expression, and I turn away because he’s ruining my vibe, and I’m finally feeling free.

Shouts break out in the crowd, and I turn back to the cage where Diem is pounding on his opponent. He’s beautiful in his anger, and once again, a pulse of pleasure flows through me followed by the weird flicker of awareness I experienced at the penthouse.

These guys with their broken souls are beautiful despite their cold-hearted actions. Although I don't agree with their methods, I do see that their primary motivation is protection. Should I be flattered that they consider me such a threat?

Regardless, I’m honest enough to admit that I’ve wanted Ramsay since the beginning even knowing the consequences. Where I should have backed away, I touched that damn fire and here I stand, still yearning for something I can’t have. It’s the sickness in me and I know it calls to his own madness, both sweet and painful, pleasurable and...foolhardy.

But reality crashes down on me when Jagger grabs my face, turns me toward him, and grinds his erection against my stomach.

What the fuck am I doing? I need to get out of this before Jagger takes something from me I’m not prepared to give.

Averting my gaze because the last thing I want to see is his desire, I spy Diem jump from the cage leaving his opponent down for the count. He doesn’t bother to look back and strangely, Bone steps into his path, but I see no more when Jagger grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd, straight out the back door, and toward his car.

I try to pull back, but he just tugs harder. Stumbling, I damn my heels and desperately flip them off before wrenching in his hold, only to come away dazed when he turns and crushes his lips to mine.

Unfortunately, in his passion, he’s unaware or more likely doesn’t care and my head rebounds off the wall behind us. Blinking back the stars dancing before my eyes, I push against his chest, but my feeble attempts are no match for his ardor.

Thankfully, numb from my high, I can only tremble before him as he forces his tongue past my lips. But when I taste the alcohol and the sickly-sweet burn of a joint, I turn my head away.

I don’t want this. I don’t want to be pulled into his destruction. My destruction.

Huffing out a breath, he says, his heated breath skating across my skin, “Don’t be a bitch. I saved your ass. Now you’re gonna give me mine.”

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