Page 118 of Beautiful Venom
Then all movements disappear.
Even her breaths slow to low muffles.
Hmm. She must be blocking her mouth with her hands.
I’ve always loved how her brain works under pressure. She has A+ survival instinct.
Unfortunately for her, I also have the most acute inborn predatory sense.
The fridge door opens, its light illuminating the space in a soft hue as a few kitchen stools get rummaged around.
“Given up already?” I round the kitchen counter and make my way to the fridge. “Didn’t take you for a quitter.”
Her breaths slow down further and her presence dwindles until it’s almost nonexistent.
Almost.
I stop by the island. “I can smell you, Dahlia.”
Instead of going to the fridge area, where she placed the perfect decoy, I tilt my head down to where she crammed her body between the stools and right beneath the island.
Both her hands cover her mouth and nose, and she’s so still, someone would mistake her for a statue.
I let my lips pull in a sadistic grin. “Found you.”
Her yelp reverberates in the air as she scrambles, knocking the stools over on her way out.
But my prey is trapped between my claws already. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Dahlia doesn’t make it three steps before I grab her by the ponytail and pull her back so hard, her shriek pierces my ears.
With one swipe, I knock away the counter’s contents, pans and glass cluttering and crashing on the floor, then shove her against it. With her chest on the marble and her ass in the air, she looks like my favorite prey.
I lean over so my mouth hovers close to her ear. “You can scream all you want. No one will hear you and it’ll only turn me on.”
“Fuck you!’
“Patience. I’ll get to that in a bit.” With a groan, I roll my hips and thrust my pelvis against her round, full ass.
The urge to own this hole that no one has touched before me lurks in my bones and overflows my nerves.
A growl spills from deep in her throat and she bucks against me, trying to twist, so I unbutton her jeans, then grab the waistband and pull them down in one go.
She’s about to fight, but I slap her pussy. Her bare fucking wet pussy.
Because Dahlia isn’t wearing any underwear.
“If I’m disgusting, what does that make you?” I sink my fingers into her inviting folds. “Not only did you come prepared to be fucked, but you’re also soaking wet for me. Can’t wait to be used as my cumhole?”
I slap her ass a few consecutive times, reveling in the way it reddens.
She cries out, going still, so I do it again and again, until my handprints mark her tanned skin.
Then I part her ass and she stiffens.
“What are you doing?—”
Her words end in a gasp when I thrust two of my fingers inside her mouth. “Suck. Make them nice and wet.”
