Page 56 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

Shame and arousal battle on her face, but I can see she’s close. She’s going to make herself come just from rubbing on my thigh like a cock-hungry little thing with no self-control.

And under any other circumstance, where my body wasn’t screaming for release, where my cock wasn’t painfully hard and my balls weren’t ready to explode, I’d let her. I’d let her use me. Let her ride my thigh like a fucktoy and drown herself in it.

But not tonight.

I need her.

I fist her hair and wrench her head up, dragging her gaze to mine, where panic and arousal collide so hard she can barely breathe.

“If you don’t stop grinding on me,” I snarl, bending close enough for our mouths to almost touch, “I’m going to make you come so many times it’ll hurt. You won’t be able to walk. You want that?”

That does it.

I feel the fight drain from her body as her thighs loosen their grip on my leg and she trembles while nodding, not in agreement or refusal but in surrender.

Good fucking girl.

I grab my cock and drag the head across her pussy. The moment I touch her, she arches into me with a strangled moan, and her mouth falls open at how good it feels.

I drift closer, pausing just above her lips, close enough to steal her breath. I don’t kiss her. I just breathe her in.

I keep stroking the head of my cock between her pussy lips. “Are you on the pill?”

“I-IUD…”

I press an open-mouthed kiss to her jaw.

“Get on the pill.”

Her brows knit as confusion colors her expression. “Why?”

“Because the next time I see you…” I drag the head lower, pressing to her entrance but not pushing in. “…I will fuck you.”

I slide the head of my cock directly over her clit, and her entire body convulses.

She comes with a broken cry, her back bowing off the floor, her thighs locking around my hips as if she’s trying to survive it.

But I don’t stop. I keep stroking her, dragging her orgasm out until she’s gasping beneath me, helpless and wrecked.

Her body enslaves my senses, every breath, every thought until I forget everything but the need to bury myself inside her.

And when she finally falls apart, I’m done holding back.

I bring my hand to my cock and stroke, slow at first, dragging friction up the length that’s been torturing me since I first touched her. I watch her—sweaty, panting, completely dazed—and fuck, that’s all it takes. I lose it.

I come hard.

Thick, hot ropes shoot across her, streaking her clit, her thighs, soaking every trembling inch of her ruined pussy until she’s dripping with me.

My cum drips down the seam of her pussy, pooling right at her entrance. I grab her hips, spread her wider, and shove it inside with two fingers, forcing it into her as she flinches under the overstimulation.

“Fuck—Zane—what are you—”

I shove it deeper.

“Next time,” I growl, dragging my fingers out slow, “I’ll fill you from the inside.”

I force myself off her.

It feels like tearing muscle from bone. My cock jerks even as I shove it back into my jeans. But if I stay, I’ll ruin her for real. I’ll keep going until she’s not just wrecked but destroyed.

So I turn and head for the door, the one she doesn’t believe I use. She still thinks I climb through her fucking window like a lunatic with a hard-on, but I don’t sneak. I break.

On the way out, I drop to my knees and pull the tools and a replacement lock from my pocket.

I remove the old one, set it aside, and screw the new lock into place, twisting it tight, fitting it clean.

By the time she wakes, she won’t notice a thing.

I’ve done it so many times I could do it blind.

She’ll never know the difference, not unless she starts counting serial numbers, and even then, I’ll just change them again.

I jog down the back stairs. On the street, I spot a sleek black Benz parked under a half-dead streetlight.

Idiots. I punch through the window, glass spraying everywhere, pop the lock, slip inside, and rip the panel off the steering column.

The wires spark when I twist them together, and the engine growls to life.

I slam the gearstick into drive and floor it. Rubber burns, streetlights blur past, and I know I should cool off, lay low, but my cock’s still throbbing and my hands are itching for something to break. I need an outlet, now.

I peel off the freeway, threading through the hills and dark backroads until the estate appears, locked down with steel gates, motion detectors, and security systems that would make most people turn back.

Not me.

I park a few blocks down, grab my tools again, and hike the perimeter. The camera blind spot’s still there. I scale the wall and land light on my feet.

The panel’s near the garage. Rich fucks always think they’re untouchable with their state-of-the-art security. They forget that the people who built these systems aren’t smarter than the ones who know how to tear them apart.

I pull the UV light from my pocket. One press, and the faint purple glow comes to life. I hover it over the keypad. The oily smudges of fingerprints bloom, smeared across the numbers. Four digits stand out.

0, 2, 5, 8.

Amateurs.

The code’s always a weak link. Four digits. Ten thousand possibilities if you’re dumb enough to try brute force. But I’m not.

My mind snaps through the permutations. 4 factorial. Twenty-four possible combinations. Most people use what’s comfortable. Repeated patterns. Symmetry. Psychological tendencies. I strip through the bullshit, eliminating the obvious.

8, 0, 2, 5.

No. Not symmetrical enough.

5, 2, 8, 0.

No. Too spread.

2, 0, 8, 5.

Bingo. I press the numbers and panel flashes green.

Unlocked.

They never learn.

I slip the light back into my pocket and run my fingers over the edge of the panel. No secondary system. No heat sensors. Just another overpriced illusion of safety. The door clicks open with a whisper, and I step inside.

I creep past the glass walls and marble counters, moving silently until I reach the bedroom where the soon-to-be dead bastard sleeps soundly under the heavy darkness of blackout sheets.

I step to the edge of the bed and draw my Glock, pressing the barrel hard against the man’s lips until they part in instinctive panic. I push deeper, scraping the steel against his teeth as I watch his eyelids flutter.

“Rise and fucking shine.”

He jolts awake, gagging on cold metal.

And I smile, because now I finally get to let this energy out.