Page 66 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

I shake my head, and he answers by sliding the head of his cock into the wet heat between my folds.

“F-Fuck me,” I whisper, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

“What was that?”

Shame blooms across my skin like heatstroke. My lips tremble. I can’t meet his eyes, not with the need pooling between my legs and the humiliation that I still want this more than air.

“You said you’d fuck me.”

He grins like I just gave him the key to heaven.

“Good girl.”

His hands drop to my hips. His fingers dig in, anchoring me in place. I feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at my entrance. He barely breaches the entrance before his cock slips free with a wet sound, and I cry out as it slaps against my thigh.

He chuckles low in his chest, dragging his cock back through my folds, teasing the swollen slit, coating himself in everything I’ve leaked for him.

He tries again. Another slow, insistent thrust. My pussy stretches around the head, straining to take him. But the second he pushes deeper, my body rejects him again.

“Quit spitting my cock out, good girl.”

I brace my forehead against his chest and gasp, “Zane, wait—fuck—it doesn’t fit.”

He hushes me with a kiss that never lands.

“You want me to stop?”

I nod, but even I know it’s a lie, and so does he.

“Bite my shoulder if you have to.”

And with that he thrusts.

The scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. My eyes slam shut as fire blooms in my cunt while he splits me open, stretching me around his cock as if I were built to take every brutal inch.

I sink my teeth into his shoulder, tasting his skin, feeling the salt and heat of him flood my mouth.

He doesn’t push me away. He groans deep in his chest, as if my pain feeds him, as if my suffering is the only thing anchoring him to the world.

Two, maybe three punishing thrusts grind the pain down until it softens, replaced by a need that feels even harder to survive.

I release my bite with a shaky breath and drag my lips across the skin I’ve likely bruised. My nails are still anchored in his back, holding onto the last shred of the person I used to be. My thighs shudder around his waist, and when I open my eyes, my heart skips a beat I will never get back.

He’s only halfway in.

Not even all the way.

“Fuck,” I rasp, barely able to form the word. “That’s… only half?”

“I told you I’d ruin you.”

My pussy throbs at his words even as my brain screams for mercy. He stays motionless, his chest pressing against mine with every ragged breath, holding me in place while my body strains to stretch around him, reshaping itself to survive him.

His hips shift with a slow, brutal roll and the stretch turns savage.

“Nnhh—hah—”

“Listen to you,” Zane chides, amusement curling into something feral. “I haven’t even fucked you properly yet, and you’re already crying on my cock.”

Another helpless noise rips from me and I slap a hand weakly against his chest, but it’s useless. His body is immovable, pressing me harder into the cold door with every slow, punishing thrust.

“I’ll rip the good girl out of you,” he growls into my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, “and you’ll thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

I want to spit something smart back. Instead, a garbled whimper falls from my throat and my hips lift to meet his next brutal shove.

God, I am so stupid.

If survival is an instinct, mine is either dead or drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“P-please,” I mewl, and it isn’t even clear what I’m begging for anymore.

I can feel the orgasm building inside me, a brutal, clawing thing that tears through every ruined inch of my body. My toes curl. My fingers scrabble against his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me before I shatter.

Oh fuck. I’m close. So close.

Don’t you dare stop, you gorgeous, twisted asshole.

My mouth opens to scream, to tell him, but Zane feels it before I can even get the words out. He pulls back.

The loss is so brutal I gasp, hips jerking up into the empty space like I’m still chasing him.

“No—ahh—fuck—!” I can’t even form a sentence, just needy, broken noises and useless fists pounding against his shoulders.

Zane pulls back just enough to watch the devastation he’s carved into my body, smug satisfaction written all over his face.

“Good girl,” he croons and grips my cheeks, forcing my gaze up. “I’ve thought about this every fucking day,” he growls, dragging his mouth down the side of my face. “Nights where the only thing I had was my hand and the memory of your voice.”

His fingers tighten around my jaw, forcing my mouth open in a helpless gasp, and before I can even think, he slams back inside me with a brutal thrust.

He doesn’t give me time to adjust.

He doesn’t give me anything except more.

“Every fucking night, I imagined what you’d look like when I finally got inside you.”

His hand slides down between us with his palm gliding over my ribs before settling around my left tit.

“You’re the hiraeth buried between my bones. The ache I was born with. The home I never fucking had. I searched for peace in violence, in pain, in everything that never looked like love, and then I saw you, and suddenly nothing I destroyed felt like enough.”

Tears sting my eyes, blurring the sharp angles of his face, but I can’t dwell on his words because his thumb drags over my nipple, before he grips tight, pressing hard enough to feel the frantic beat of my heart under his fingertips.

My toes curl around his back. My knees try to climb higher on his waist. He’s too fucking deep, but not deep enough at the same time. I need more. I need to be higher. I’m already impaled on him, but my body won’t stop begging.

I inch upward, digging my heels into the small of his back to lift myself against the door. My arms shake as I grip the bars for leverage and my muscles scream while I push myself to take more of him.

He lets out a low, satisfied grunt as his hands grip my hips with a force that tries to fuse our bodies into one.

I don’t even recognize the sound that rips from my throat.

He once told me he wanted to hear sounds torn from my throat that no human makes.

And now, he’s getting his wish.

The cell door is partially visible.

Anyone walking by will see the movement. Hear the noise. Maybe even watch through the small window and know exactly what’s happening inside.

I should be scared.

But I can’t bring myself to care.

And judging by the look on his face?

Zane doesn’t give a single fuck either.

“Slow down.” My head falls back against the cell door. “Please, fuck, just slow down, I can’t, I’m going to—”

“I can’t slow down, Faith. I stopped being human the second I wanted you.”

The words die in my throat the second he slams deeper.

Too deep.

Too fucking deep.

Lightning forks through my abdomen when he rams into me, the brutal slam rattling my IUD deep inside, dragging a full-body shudder through me.

“Zane.” My chest caves in with a strangled breath. “Zane, stop.”

He doesn’t.

His hips recklessly slam up into me. He knows.

God, he knows, and still he fucks me harder, like he’s trying to tear me apart from the inside, rip out anything that dares to stand between him and the only thing he’s ever wanted.

Me. My body. My soul. Like my pussy was made for him and him alone, and anything inside it that says otherwise needs to be removed.

“You’re scaring me,” I pant, even as my hips are in rhythm against his. “Don’t come inside me Zane, please.”

He drags his cock halfway out, then slams back in with a snarl that sounds less human and more beast.

“Oh, I’m going to fill you up.”

“No—fuck—don’t—”

He hisses through his teeth, slamming deep again, grinding against the spot where my IUD presses inside me like a ticking time bomb.

His hand clamps down on my lower stomach with his fingers splayed wide as if he’s physically holding my womb in place.

“You feel that?” His thumb digs in just below my navel, pressing where his cock slams again and again, until I swear, I can feel the shape of him through my flesh. “That’s where it’s going.”

I can’t speak. My mouth opens but nothing comes out but a broken gasp. My pussy clenches around him so hard it feels like a seizure. I want to shove him off. I want to claw his chest until he bleeds. I want him deeper.

“You were made to take my come,” he snarls, grinding his hips in brutal circles that keep slamming my IUD.

“No—Zane—fuck—don’t—” My eyes burn. My thighs quake. I’m wet in ways I don’t want to be. Every thrust makes my pussy cry and cling to him.

“You think you hate me now?” His lips curl into a grin I can feel. “Wait until you’ve got a piece of me growing inside you.”

His cock drags against the most sensitive part of me, and my vision blurs. Colors smear at the edges of my sight and my muscles seize, starting with my thighs, then my pussy, then everything in between while my arms go slack around the metal bars and my back arches hard against the door.

And I stop fighting it.

I stop caring.

My orgasm detonates inside me, a fucking riot of noise and violence I can’t contain. My pussy locks around him, spasming over his cock, dragging him deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You feel that, good girl? You feel how much you like my cock?”

I can’t even nod. My body trembles uncontrollably, pinned between his weight and the door and the unbearable pleasure melting every part of me.

“You’re milking me,” he snarls.

He slams into me again and I scream as he pulls back just enough to watch my face and see my body quake around him.

Then he roars.

It rips from his chest like a beast breaking loose and I feel him spill inside me as his cock pulses with every spurt, flooding my cunt so deep I feel it coat my womb. His hips grind as he comes, riding it out and chasing every last drop.