No Saint

by Ria Wilde

She smirks, cocking a brow, “Unless you’re spitting it into my mouth.” Her tongue traces her bottom lip, “I don’t want it.”

“It hurts Amelia.” My heart shatters for him, breaks apart and I knew I’d never forget what he had done. I squeeze the hand that holds mine, “I will say it again, Atlas, thank you. I’m not dismissing what had been done to get us here, but I thank you for saving his life. My life.”

“Now tell me,” I whisper, “Would you like to be my whore tonight, or my wife?”