Page 55 of Sweet Venom

I’m trapped between the edge of violence and desire, with no choice but to submit to his invasion while willing my body to remain disconnected.

It’s too late, though, because I’m already moaning in his mouth. In the beginning, I think it’s a noise coming from outside, but I soon realize the shameless whimper is mine.

Jude pulls his lips from my bruised ones, and I stare, entirely dazed as he slides his thumb to the corner of my lip. “Seems you did that on purpose.”

“W-what?”

“I told you I’d kiss you if you looked away from me.” His gloved hand slides from my jaw to my throat, over my collarbone, then wraps tightly around my breast.

I gasp, my nipples aching at the feel of his large palm on the tender flesh.

“It’s time for that something worse.” He puts the knife on the counter and grabs the can of ginger ale.

I watch with held breath as he opens the can, the sound of the metal and the released fizz barely cutting through the buzz in my ears and the uncontrollable heat in my body.

I’m mentally trying not to push my chest farther into his palm or rub my legs together or something equally ridiculous.

Jude brings the can to his lips, and I gulp, expecting him to put his mouth where I always do. Right at the edge, licking the remnants of the drink.

But he stops, his eyes on me as he holds the can in front of my face. “I want to try your favorite drink.”

“How do you know… Right. Professional stalker.”

A small twitch lifts the corner of his mouth, and my lipspart. It’s the first time he’s ever smiled and he…looks so beautiful and different.

I kind of feel sad that maybe he hasn’t had the chance to smile throughout his life.

But too soon, his mouth sets in a line, and he releases my aching breast, then grips my jaw, his gloved thumb pulling on my lower lip. “This mouth truly doesn’t know when to shut up. Open.”

“Why—”

The words are stuck in my throat when he pours the soft drink into my mouth. I swallow some, but he won’t stop, liquid splashing everywhere—down my chin, my neck, on my chest, and even below.

He empties the can on me until I’m soaked in ginger ale.

I’m panting in my attempts to swallow as much as possible. “How are you going to try it if you waste it like that?”

“You don’t like the waste?”

“Of course not. My biggest pet peeve is those who waste stuff just because they can.”

“I better not be your pet peeve, then.” He leans closer and licks my lower lip, then the upper one, sucking it into his mouth.

I flinch, but it’s not due to discomfort.

No, it’s something much worse.

Because my skin tingles where he licks me, his tongue drawing out sensations I’ve never experienced before.

It moves down to my chin.

“W-wait. I didn’t look away just now.”

“We’re at the much worse part now, remember?” He sucks on a sensitive spot on my neck as he looks up at me, his eyes darkening to a frightening edge. “Besides, you don’t like to waste, correct?”

My back arches as his tongue glides down, licking every droplet of ginger ale off my skin, his mouth sucking and biting my neck and collarbone until a strangled noise escapes me.

My thighs tremble, my lips parting as I feel something I’ve never experienced during sex.