Page 120 of Sweet Venom

I would’ve always only done that temporarily, but still, I was going to avoid contact with her for at least a month.

Just kidding again.

Because I was around. I couldn’t have avoided her when I’ve been roaming in her environment. She just wasn’t aware of me, because Violet has shit awareness of her surroundings.

Or I’m just that good at camouflaging my presence.

I was here when Dahlia and Kane first showed her this house. I was on the terrace, actually, watching through the window, just to see her reaction to all the blue.

Violet was half in awe, half uncomfortable because shedoesn’t like to owe others, and she feels like she’s imposing on Kane.

I could read all of that on her face even when she was smiling, and it disturbed me because, why the fuck am I that good at reading her?

After that, I didn’t come around here as much. Until a week ago.

My steps are silent as I walk into the dimly lit space. There’s always a light on here—always. She turns it on remotely about half an hour before she comes in.

Over the past few weeks, Violet has added a few personal touches to the place—some throws and embroideries on the pillowcases in the form of stars, half-moons, suns, and a tree of life. It’s like the sketches she scribbles in her journal.

The same journal that shoved me back into her life at full speed.

I didn’t mean to come in while she was working. I only ever wanted to…check on things. See if she’s having any suicidal thoughts again.

And the best place to look into her thought process is her journal.

But instead of suicidal thoughts and her usual musings about why her mom didn’t love her, I found something a lot more interesting.

Entries upon entries of sexual fantasies.

And not just any fantasies—Violet has a somnophilia fantasy. She wanted to be visited by the man of her dreams in the middle of the night and be ravaged whole.

Which I almost did when she was thrusting her fingers inside her cunt for me to see. The only reason I didn’t fuck her was because I needed to talk to her about it first, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop.

It was pure fucking torture not to ram my hard cock into her wet, glistening cunt. But I did come down that pretty throat as she blinked up at me with lust and pure confusion.

I can still see her face flushing a deep shade of red and her eyes growing wide and glittery blue.

It’s fruitless to wonder why the fuck Violet is the only woman who’s had this effect on me. Fucking has always been an animalistic need for me, just like violence, so I couldn’t care less about my sexual partners, and they couldn’t care less about me either. It’s always been physical and fleeting, where I fuck the girls, they have a good time, and then it’s over.

This is the first time I’ve wanted to own someone, chain them to me, not allow them to leave my goddamn sight.

And that someone had to beViolet.

And Violet, thinking I no longer snoop in her journal, has been writing constantly about sex lately. She didn’t even mention the time I ate her on the kitchen counter or how she rode my boot in that alley, but I now know it’s because she didn’t want me to see her thoughts.

She has lots of those—thoughts about sex and fantasies.

One of them is being ambushed. She mentioned that it happened in her dreams with her fucking fantasy man, who I’ll find and maim to pieces.

Because she can’t have anyone but me.

Shewon’t.

Which is why I’m here again. To erase any motherfucker she has fantasies about.

I’ll fulfillallof her fantasies, especially this ambushing one. My own demons roar at the thought of her trembling body beneath mine.

Her breaths stuttering like when I kissed her for the world to see this morning.