Page 100 of My Fallen Saint

“Yes,” I murmur. Damn me to hell, the answer is yes.

“Or maybe I should blindfold you, then tie you to this bed, naked and wet and entirely at mine. To tease, to spank, to fuck.” His fingers dance lightly over my nipple. “To pleasure.”

I tremble, lost in the intensity of his words. But there’s trepidation there, too. The thought of being bound … of being entirely at his mercy…

I swallow, trying to read my own emotions. Trying to separate the craving from the hesitation. Trying to pinpoint the dark shadow that’s making me hesitate, but I can’t put words to it, and I turn my head away, not wanting him to see into my eyes. “Why?” I whisper, because I don’t know what else to ask.

“Because I want to make you feel,” he says.

“I do,” I tell him. “I feel you all through me. Why tie me up?”

He releases my arms, then slides his body down so that his hands are cupping my breasts as he kisses me along the band of my panties. “Maybe it’s more than that,” he says, lifting his head between kisses. “Maybe I like the power. Maybe I want to make you feel good. To watch you surrender. To know I’m taking you someplace you’ve never been before.”

My breath comes in rasps, his words filling my head like a storm.

“You get off on danger? Maybe I like knowing that I can take you there, too. That I can bind you. Have you at my mercy. Own you while you’re completely vulnerable, and then make you come harder than you ever have before.”

“I don’t—I’m not—”

His fingertip traces my lower lip and my breath comes in shudders, making it impossible for me to hide anything from him.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t intrigued. Don’t pretend that even the possibility of this doesn’t turn you on. I saw you, remember? Hell, I touched you.” His fingers trail down from my lip to my jaw, then slowly down my neck. “Just the other day, I fucked you in an alley. And the first night in the parking lot…”

He trails off as that damnable finger once again grazes my nipple. “A stranger touched you, and it turned you on.”

“So?”

“It’s not the danger you need, Ellie. It’s the control. You were in charge before I came along in the parking lot. And how many other men have you pulled from bars? Have you fucked in alleys?”

I turn my head, not wanting him to see the answer on my face.

“You’re searching, baby. Trying so hard to steer that moment. To make it what you need. Not the danger. The control. You calling the shots. You choosing those men. You controlling the scene.”

He strokes my hair, then waits for me to meet his eyes. My pulse is pounding, no longer from lust, but from the truth in his words. A truth I really don’t want to acknowledge.

“But it’s never enough, is it? What you need—what you crave—is for someone else to be in control. You need to surrender, El. You need to go all the way to the edge and then fall over, trusting that you’ll come out okay on the other side.”

I swallow, my breath shallow as I absorb his words, so terrifyingly true. Because he’s right. I do grab control. I cling so hard because I lost so much. But there’s a wall, and I’ve never let myself go past it.

“You can trust me, El. For years, you’ve been holding so tight to control you’ve forgotten about pleasure. Forgotten how to truly feel. To surrender.” He looks me up and down, the penetrating gaze acting on me like a physical caress. “You know I’m right.”

I lift my chin. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because I see it in your face. It makes you scared. The thought of being tied down. Being immobile and blind and vulnerable. But it also turns you on. Tell me the truth, El,” he says, softly cupping my cheek. “Tell me that what I’ve been saying makes your nipples hard and your pussy throb. Tell me your skin feels tight, aching for release. Tell me you want it. The kind of danger where you’re no longer in control. The kind where you can fall, and there’s no way in hell to stop. Where you just have to trust that it will be okay.”

“I—” I begin, then feel like an idiot when tears spring to my eyes. I want it—oh, dear God, I want it. But I can’t find the words.

“I can’t,” I manage to say. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go there.”

I swallow the fear that sits like a lump in my throat. Fear that I’ve hurt him. Fear that he’s going to walk away, irritated that I’ve put on the brakes.

With Alex, I know he’d be okay with it. But Devlin? I’m still learning who Devlin Saint is, and I don’t yet understand his rough edges and dark shadows. He’s dangerous, just like he said. And, damn him, it’s because of that danger that I’m already halfway to the best orgasm of my life. But to take it further? To trust him like that?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I can’t.”

I don’t realize that the tears have escaped until he’s gently wiping my cheek with his thumb. “Oh, El, baby, it’s okay. I want to take you to your limit—I do. So much that just thinking about it makes me harder than I’ve ever been. But I’ll only take you over if you want it, too.”

“You don’t mind?”