Page 119 of Saint

“Your mom thinks you’ll hurt me.”

“No more than you want me to.” But as he says it, his hand tenses on my throat, tightening when he feels me swallow. “I won’t.”

The more my eyes widen, the tighter he grips.

I should fear him. I should have run that first night. But blood rushes through me as I reach for his wrist and dig my nails in.

I claw into that spot on his arm where my teeth marks live. I mark him like he does me.

“I won’t,” he repeats, but he sounds less sure this time.

Saint is seeping out, always just under the surface. Making Kole doubt what he wants and what he’ll do.

“What if I want you to?”

Kole’s eyes snap to mine.

Not Kole—Saint.

Scalding fire and blistering heat. And I want him to unleash himself on me if only to remind me why I decided all those years ago life is still worth living.

The darkest twitch in the corner of his mouth says I’ve woken the beast. The side of him that wants to hurt me—wants to torture me. Wants to climb inside me and mess everything up.

And it has my blood boiling hot.

Saint shoves me to the ground, not releasing my throat. Someone could stumble upon us if they’re just gettinghome, but I don’t care. Maybe I want them to see it. I’m his, and there’s no denying it.

He reaches for his pants and starts to undo them. His fingers are so tight I’m struggling for air. My tears cloud my vision as I blink up at him. A man who swears to protect me as often as he promises to tear me to shreds.

“Why do you beg me to hurt you, kitten?” Something about the way he asks makes me wonder how long he’s been struggling with that question.

“Because.” I choke for air, barely able to get the words out. “I need to feel something.”

Saint leans down, hovering his face over mine. He loosens his grip on my throat to offer me a gulp of air, but his mouth seals to my lips as I drink it in. He sucks my tongue into his mouth and bites down on it. The metallic taste of blood leaks into his mouth, and he swallows it down.

He consumes me.

“You’re lucky then.” He licks my mouth, pulling back a breath to stare into my eyes. “Because I love hurting you.”

I love you.

Not that I say it. I don’t think he would know what to do with those words when he’s never been shown what they mean.

But as he pulls back and shoves his jeans down in the front to reveal his hard cock, I’m naïve enough to convince myself that’s what this is.

Love.

Hurt.

He’s handing me all of him.

He pumps his hand over his length, letting himself leak onto my lips. “Open, kitten. Swallow my cock down that beautiful fucking throat.”

I do as I’m told, and he thrusts himself in. He releases my neck as he does and grabs the back of my head instead. Bottoming out, he holds me there, cutting off my oxygen.

“Swallow.”

I do. My throat constricts, taking him further. And it hurts—his thickness, the lack of air, his grip on my scalp. But I do it again.

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