Page 55 of The Bitterness of Venom

That’s enough of that. I click the phone off. Now I shouldn’t be hearing other men talking about how they’re going to tap that.

I throw my phone beside me, wrapping a hand around her neck as she moves over me, making me leak precum all over her folds. “Is that because you want to come or because you want me?” I squeeze my hand tighter and she arches her back into me.

“Both,” she pants.

“Do you forgive me?”

“No.” She arches against me farther.

“That’s my girl. You don’t ever take anything less than what you deserve, even from me.”

I groan, sliding myself inside her and bucking into her. Fuck, she feels good. It’s been too long. I’m not going to last. But she doesn’t either. She screams, tears streaming down her cheeks as she comes in waves. Trembling and arching for more.

I cover her nipple with my mouth, my free hand on her waist as she rides me harder. Looking like a fucking vision. I’m having to hold myself back so I can watch her come again. She’s so fucking hungry for me and, fuck, I’m starved for her. I trail a drop of sweat from her throat to her sternum, licking it away and rubbing her clit with my thumb. This time when she breaks, it’s like she loses consciousness. Her mouth parts on a silent scream and I follow behind her with two more brutal thrusts.

My head swims as I come, stars blurring my vision, and my arms tighten around her, pulling her with me to the bed so she lays on top of me, my dick still nuzzled inside her pussy.

And we fall asleep like that.

I should beable to feel a weight on my chest, but I wake up to an empty bed. I can’t help the franticness I feel. My uncle is out there somewhere and what if she ran away—again?

I jerk up into a sitting position, grabbing my phone and sending out a text.

Desmond: TF are you?

Freckles: With a friend.

I glare at the screen as I type question after question.

Desmond: Destiny?

Freckles: No.

Desmond: …Jasper?

Freckles: Nope. I’m with my best friend.

I look around the room, but I don’t fucking see her.

Desmond: After last night I could have sworn I was your best friend. I mean, the way you screamed my name and took my dick sure as fuck seemed like we were besties.

Freckles: It’s not that deep.

Desmond: Where. Are. You.

Freckles: *middle finger emoji*

She is the cause of every headache I’ve ever had. Worth it, but still annoying.

I reread the messages. I’m honestly lost. Blaise doesn’t really have friends, which is one hundred percent her fault. But then it hits me.

I watchas Blaise sits beside a little girl with brown curly hair in the group home through the window. A man and woman on the other side of her. The little girl looks excited, but Blaise looks worried. Like she might snatch the little girl from the room and run.

Blaise’s hand squeezes the edges of the chair she sits on, her knuckles turning white. I’m wondering if I should interfere when they all rise. The little girl smiles up at Blaise, wrapping her small arms around her waist.

Blaise hugs her back, whispering something in the girl’s ear that causes her to giggle.

Blaise watches them leave before she slumps her shoulders, walking out a little while after.

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