Page 12 of Saint

In detail.

I stumble over a tree branch and fall to the ground. My knee slices open when it strikes a rock, and my wrists throb from the sheer force of catching myself. Everything aches.

I’m out of breath. My heart is racing.

I asked for this.Because I thought it was what I wanted. But this isn’t what I had in mind when I googled primal kinks and told the devil that the most intense orgasm I ever had was when I touched myself watching a horror movie.

I didn’t think my boyfriend would end up dead on the side of the road to play out some sick fantasy.

My imagination and reality clearly aren’t one and the same.

When I admitted to a stranger I wanted to be chased, pinned, taken in a forest so deep no one could hear me scream, I didn’t count on Saint.

And yet, as I fumble to my feet, I can’t deny my blood is running hot through me with every hard breath. My pulse throbs between my thighs, and my legs are shaky.

When Saint gripped my throat and stole my breath, I felt him. He was rock hard and as desperate as I was in that moment. We aren’t the same, but still, he finds a way to call out to the dark side I’ve been denying.

Picking up my pace, I run again. It’s possible I’m going in circles at this point. I’ve never had a great sense ofdirection, and it all looks the same with clouds covering a dark sky.

One tree after another. Branches, shadows. Twigs snap, and I don’t know if it’s me, the animals, or him closing in.

“I can taste your fear, kitten.”

I freeze at the sound of Saint’s voice humming through the forest. He’s closer than I expected when it feels like I’ve been running for miles.

Pinning myself to a tree, I try to steady my breathing. It’s nearly impossible to hear anything other than my heartbeat thumping against my temples and the static in my ears. But I grip the bark and press my lips together, steadying my breath. Listening for any little disturbance in the forest.

Nearby, a twig snaps, and I can’t help but flinch.

He’s close.

Too close.

Darting forward, I start running again. He’s closing in, and if I slow down, I won’t have a chance.

I’m not sure what his plans are if he catches me. But what’s worse—I can’t decide what’s driving me forward: fear or anticipation.

Stumbling again, I manage to catch myself before I hit the ground, but it knocks the air from my chest. Choking in another cold breath, I scramble to run when an arm snakes around my waist.

“Got ya.”

With one arm tightly wrapping around my center, Saint grabs the back of my hair with his hand, grippingso hard he’s tilting my head back and causing my feet to hover just barely off the ground.

I claw at his arms and try to kick his shins, but it just makes him chuckle.

“That’s it, kitten.” He spins us, pinning the front of my body against a tree, slamming the air from my chest. “Fight me.”

I grip the tree trunk and try to use it as leverage to push him off me. But he shoves one knee between my legs and holds me tighter. His hips grind against my ass, and I freeze, feeling the hard length of his excitement.

“You feel that?” He digs his hips forward again, and I hate that my breath hitches. “That’s what that fire of yours does to me. Fight me, kitten. I want to feel you squirm.”

“You’re sick,” I bite out.

Saint’s nails scrape my scalp as his grip on my hair tightens. “It’s what you wanted.”

“This isn’t what I want.”

“Isn’t it?” His arm around my waist shifts between me and the tree, and he drags a hand down over my hip to the front of my thigh, slowly inching inward as he runs it where the hem of my shorts meets my fishnets.

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