Page 53 of Ravaged Saints

“Are those the magazines you were talking about?” I ask, pointing to the stack on the floor.

She nods, her cheeks turning red.

I pick one up.Bondageis written across the cover in bold letters, and I smirk.

“Want to be tied up, pet?” I ask, my eyes traveling over her body. She’s wearing a baggy shirt and socks, her legs bent under the blanket.

“No. I’m just keeping my mind busy,” she snaps, glaring at me defiantly.

“Keeping your mind busy with BDSM?” I chuckle, flipping through the magazine.

“It was either this or the gun books,” Aspen smirks. “Maybe I should’ve gone with the guns.”

Brat.

“I think you already know enough about guns.” I stare her down as she softly bites her bottom lip.

I step closer to the bed and pull the blanket down, exposing her legs.

I look up at her, and it hits me—fear. But it’s not just fear; it’s lust, dark, primal, feral, and it’s making my blood run hot.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Aspen?” I ask, my tone almost gravelly, but there’s a hunger underneath it that I can’t hide. I don’t give a fuck if I sound like an asshole. If she wants it, I’ll fuck her. If not… I’ll walk away.

Her voice is soft, trembling as she whispers, “No.”

Her eyes never leave mine, but her chest rises and falls too fast, breath hitching—betraying her. She’s trying to be defiant, but her body tells me everything.

A slow smile tugs at my lips. She doesn’t realize it yet, but I’ve already won.

I take a step forward. She leans away.

Her instincts are screaming at her to run. To fight. But she doesn’t.

I brace a hand against the doorframe.

“You say no,” I murmur low. “But you’re breathing like you want me to ruin you.”

She swallows hard but doesn’t answer. That hesitation is all I need.

I push off the doorframe and take a step back, my face unreadable. Then another step. My hand moves to the knob, twisting it just slightly.

Her breath stutters.

I turn my back to her, resigning myself to walking away. I start to pull the door open, letting the cold air rush in.

“Wait.” It’s barely a whisper, but I hear it and freeze.

A slow, victorious grin spreads across my face, hidden from her view. I school my expression before turning back, tilting my head.

“What was that, pet?”

She bites her lip, like she regrets speaking at all. But it’s too late.

I watch her sitting on the bed, flushed, her neck and chest stained red.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“Will you stop if it gets too much? With a safe word?” Her word sound fragile, but something in her eyes tells me she wants this.

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