Page 124 of Beautiful Venom
Even if I get invited to Vencor’s parties, what am I supposed to do under so much surveillance?
Out myself and possibly get killed before I discover anything, that’s what.
As I sit in my small office in Vipers Arena, I flip through the backlog files in a last attempt to find anything out of the ordinary.
My ass hurts and I shift in my chair. A groan slips out of me as my muscles scream in pain.
That asshole Kane really meant it about my inability to walk. I can’t even sit without feeling every inch of him inside me.
Since that time he ambushed me in his apartment, he’s been asking me to meet him every single day. Sometimes, at his place, and other times, in secluded forests.
And let me tell you, that man is a fucking animal. I don’t know where he gets the stamina or how he comes up with new ways to make me scream.
It’s like a rollercoaster ride with no ending in sight.
He always chases me first, and when he catches me, he fucks me on all sorts of surfaces—the floor, the stairs, against a tree, in the bathtub.
Everywhere.
Every time I think I’ve figured out his pattern and come up with a plan to escape or hide, he always finds me. No exceptions.
It’s a thrill. A high I think I’ll never come down from.
I’m an addict who can’t quit.
It’s impossible to even think about abandoning the hit he injects in my veins with every encounter.
Whenever he sets up a meeting, I get a tingly feeling in my spine. A need for more.
More.
So much more.
Hell, I believe I’ve been conditioned so deeply, I wouldn’t consider any other form of sex enjoyable anymore.
I’m surprised I even opened my legs for mediocre experiences in the past.
Kane is right. Normal sex bored me to tears. Before him, I thought it was expected not to completely enjoy sex, and those mind-numbing orgasms were the stuff of novels.
I never thought that being hate-fucked to within an inch of my life was the answer.
With a groan, I hit my head on the table. I’m so sick.
And so is he.
But somehow, it works.
I love sex again. I dream of him fucking me and wake up with my hand in my wet pussy.
The violence, the chase, the aggression, and even the name-calling turns me on.
His whole presence turns me on.
Pretty sure I’ve become a sex addict, even if my body barely keeps up with our brutal, bruise-inducing toxic-as-fuck sex.
Thewholething is toxic, really.
Kane is adamant about the ‘using each other’ part and refuses to budge. That man doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. Whenever I try to stroke his skin or hug him, he stiffens as if I plunged my hand into his chest and ripped out his heart or something.
