Page 117 of My Fallen Saint

“Do you like this? Being naked? Exposed? Vulnerable? Knowing I could do anything I want to you, and probably will?”

My nipples are painfully tight, and I’m certain he’s aware of that, so I can’t get away with a lie. The truth is, I don’t want to lie to him, even if it does make me vulnerable. Because Devlin Saint is the one person in all the world with whom I can be vulnerable.

“Tell me,” he presses. “Do you like this?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Why?”

“Because you can do anything.” I swallow. “And because I’m a danger junkie.”

“That’s part of it, yes. But it’s more than that. All those men you’ve fucked? You’re the one calling the shots. That idiot in the parking lot? What did he do for you other than exist?”

“Nothing,” I admit.

“He was a walking talking sex toy,” Devlin says.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I hear the sharpness in my voice and know that it’s a thin cover for regret. And maybe even a bit of shame.

“I think you don’t understand the power of being vulnerable. It’s not fear that pushes you over the edge—not entirely. It’s putting yourself in someone else’s hands. In trusting them—in trusting me—to be the arbiter of your pleasure.”

I nod. I know all this of course. Hell, I pretty much said the same thing right back to him just a few minutes ago. But it’s different being on the receiving end.

“Do you know why pain can be so potent?” he asks when I stay silent.

I don’t want to seem naive, but I admit that I don’t.

“Because how can you judge pleasure without it?”

I hear the drawer open beside the bed, then a quick metallic flick.

I frown, because I recognize the sound of a pocket knife opening. My pulse kicks up, but I tell myself I’m not scared. It’s just a remnant of my training.

Even so, I’m hyperaware, and that only increases the intensity of the moment as I feel the flat side of the cold steel blade tracing down my cleavage. “Don’t move,” he says, and I don’t even breathe as he flicks the blade through the small bit of material between the cups of my bra. And then, the moment the danger’s passed, a sharp bolt of electricity breaks through me, wracking my body with the sweet release of something that feels very close to an orgasm.

“They say that the moment before you come can be like balancing on a precipice.”

“You could have just unfastened it from the back,” I whisper.

“Would you have preferred that?”

Behind the blindfold, I close my eyes. “No,” I admit.

“Why not?”

“Because I liked the way it made me feel. Knowing you wouldn’t hurt me, but at the same time feeling the danger.” I lick my lips. “You’re my safe space, Devlin. I trust you. But—”

“But your body doesn’t know that. Not yet. And the adrenaline’s one hell of a rush.”

“Yes.” I let out a shaky breath. “Oh, God, yes.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he slides his hands up my body and tugs down my panties. I want to murmur in protest—I’d been expecting him to cut them off, too—but I keep silent. And then, when I’m bare, he orders me to spread my legs.

I comply eagerly, and I’m expecting it when he uses the cords I’ve attached to the corners of the bed to bind me spread-eagled on the mattress.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, then slowly takes off my sandal. He strokes my foot, then almost sends me to the moon when he sucks lightly on my toe before kissing his way up my leg until he reaches my pussy. “So, so beautiful,” he murmurs, then uses his tongue to take me right up to the edge.

I writhe and shimmy, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even buck against him, as there’s very little give in these ropes.