Page 77 of Ramsay

“I don’t play with fire, I am the fire, asshole,” I snarl, ignoring the tiny thrill his words bring.

Do I cause the same amount of angst that Ramsay does just by breathing?

Ramsay stiffens across the way, looking between us with a furrowed brow and suppressing a feral grin, I turn away as Diem chuckles like a dick.

“Now, who wants to go first? Willow?” Ramsay asks, pinning me with his calculating gaze.

Glancing around, I know this is a trap, but I don’t know which way is up, so I say belligerently, “Truth.”

“Hm, what did you say to Jagger the other night?”

Ah, so this is how it’s going to be. Shrugging nonchalantly, I push my hands into my coat, my fingers brushing the damn rabbit's foot I forgot was inside as I say, casually, “I told him I’d suck him off for a dime bag of blow.”

“Fuck,” Diem spits out, the alcohol he just poured in his mouth spewing across the ground.

“Lie,” Ramsay says softly. “Take a drink.”

I should get up and walk away. I can leave. I don't have to do this, but I refuse to back down, rationalizing that booze was never my vice anyway. Taking a small swig of the whiskey, I pass it to Oliver, sitting tensely beside me.

With a stern glare, he takes it from me silently, and I sneer, “Fucking relax. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

He eyes me with a frown before turning away, and Ramsay speaks up, drawing my attention back to him.

“Okay, Oliver is up,” he says, in his lord of the manor voice, sitting on the log like a fucking king.

Unfortunately, Ramsay dressed down in jeans and a band T-shirt is my wet fucking dream, and if I weren’t so fucking pissed, I’d be just that.

Okay, I am wet, but whatever dick doesn’t need to know.

“Truth,” Oliver grunts, his knuckles white around the bottle.

“What’s the deal with your dad?” I blurt before anyone can speak up.

Oliver’s brows slam over his eyes and refusing his truth with a swig of the rotgut whiskey, he passes it down. This continues for several rounds, as we go around the circle, many of whom choose dare and end up doing the most ridiculous fucking things.

As we speak, Bone’s half-naked, seated in his chair with a boner I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.

When it's Ramsay’s turn, he smiles and says, “Dare.”

Dixie speaks up, unusually quiet up until now. I think she's flying so high that she's not all here with us as she says with a spacey giggle, “Give Willow an orgasm.”

My eyes fly to her, and I see she’s not as fucked up as she seems when she gives me a smirk and raises her brow.

“Very well. C’mere Willow,” Ramsay says.

“No, fuck no,” I say on a shaky exhale.

“This is the game, or did you want it to be your turn?” Ramsay asks, his pale eyes blazing.

Fucker knows precisely how to push my buttons. Standing slowly, I stumble around the fire, gasping when Ramsay pulls me into his lap, so I’m facing him and grabs my hips roughly.

Startled, I glance at his face in surprise when he arches into me, revealing quite an erection. It would seem he’s enjoying our little game. Unfortunately, he’s not only hard but long and fuck me hot. He knows it too, smirking like a douche and grinding into my core.

Clenching my teeth, I close my eyes because I don’t want to see his pretty peepers as the ice slowly melts. It’s my last wall of defense. He bucks into me again and I bite my lip, suppressing a moan because at the least, the fucker should have to work for it.

“Mm, I never pegged you for a coward,” he murmurs against my ear.

Flipping my eyes open, I glare at him, the words escaping my mouth before I can reel them in. “I don’t want your filthy hands on me. They probably still smell of some bitch’s nasty snatch.”

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