Page 44 of Rawest Venom

One shoulder bounces up and down as she responds, “Well, I had a good teacher, so I wanted to show you I can do it on my own.”

“And you didn’t have anyone’s help? No one saw you?You were alone?” The last question, I drag out a bit dramatically. It has its intended effect.

She swallows roughly before saying with some staccato rhythm, “Yep! All by my lonesome.” As casually as possible, her hand gently touches my bicep, which flexes under her warmth. “I was lonely.”

Blood pulsates toward my crotch, thinking about her willing to do anything for me last night. Wondering if she’d do it now. But her lying makes me want to put on my gloves and choke her. A war of want and wrath wafts through me like the wind. Standing, I lean over so my mouth presses against her ear, using my voice to lull her into a trance. “Good girl.”

Her breasts rise under her sweatshirt with the quick inhale she takes.

Placing my hand over hers on my arm, I allow my face to brighten into a smile. It’s go-time. Ugh! I’m so excited about this part.

“Would you have dinner with me again?”

As her shoulders relax, she steps into my body, her eyelashes fluttering up at me. “Of course, Cal. When and where? Should I prepare for a long journey?”

Brushing back some locks of her hair, I tilt her chin up to meet my face. “How about my place? Tonight.”

The crinkles in the corners of her eyes smooth out for just a moment as the fear returns. Interesting. Placing her made-up expression back on, she replies, “I would love that! What time should I come over?”

“I’ll have Monet take the night off and you can come over at six. We’ll make pizza together. You can have your meaty toppings and I’ll load mine with veggies. Watch a movie after. Sound like fun?” Damn. Sometimes my own acting impresses evenme.

Soft rosy lips press into mine for a moment before she responds, “Yes. That sounds amazing.” Almost time, puppet.

Eighteen

CALUM

That evening, I’ve prepared the thrown dough for us already, spreading it out on wooden paddles for the brick oven. Shoving the sleeves of my Henley up my forearms, I grab a dish towel and wipe my hands when the doorbell chimes its ancient song. I’ve given all the staff the night off so we can be alone. Well…almostalone.

Grasping the bronzed handle, I fling open one side of the ornate front door as an involuntary grin grips my lips at the sight of her. Beneath her long bright red hair, she wears a frilly, short lilac-colored floral dress with long bell sleeves. Her legs are bare, her feet covered by white athletic shoes. My dick twitches when I realize…she’s not wearing that lavender scent. The newness ofherhits me as she embraces me in a greeting like the freshness of spring made human. She looks like Easter.

Snagging her hand, I pull her inside and into my body. “Come on. Let’s make some pizza.”

“Your house. Is big.” Her eyes flick around the foyer nervously.

With a shrug, I say, “It is. Especially when I only use a few rooms.”

Before she left for the night, Monet set out all the pizza toppings in neat ramekins waiting for us to make dinner. “You thought of everything!” She picks up a pineapple and takes a bite, juice dripping down her chin. Sidling up to her, I use my tongue to gather it up and kiss her teasingly before backing away. That woman, the one from that night, it seems she’s here with me now, and she giggles at my playfulness. The sound’s like a sonata only Beethoven could compose. I’m stunned into submission.

I clear my throat. “You’ll need to put your hair back. It’s cooking 101,” I say, pulling an apron over her head and tying it.

She flashes a hair tie at me, and I grip her waist and spin her back to my front, then run my fingers along either side of her scalp, gathering the strands into a bundle, then take the tie from her and make a high ponytail. Letting my arms fall around her waist, I sway gently with her in my hold. Goosebumps erupt on her exposed neck, and she shivers as I place my lips on the crook of it.

“Play my happy Mozart playlist,” I command the speakers above us. The first movement of the “Salzburg Symphony No. 1” rings out, the violins dancing through the speakers with the same excitement palpating in my heart. “So, pineapple pizza girl… What else do you like?”

With a little hesitation in her voice, she says, “Um…I like ham and pineapple with jalapenos on pizza.”

Whatever she just gave me, I want it. She has a preference, and with her dancing in my arms, the decision she just made hits me just as the crescendo of the movement does. Closing my eyes, I revel in it. If only for the next moment, I’ll pretend. Or however long I get this realness reaching into my soul.

It’s Cal and Veracity on a cute date. We’ll watch a rom com and I’ll hold her hand, then tell her dirty things and she’ll suck me off. Maybe she’ll let me put it inside her and then she’ll sleep over in my bed outfitted with clean sheets. Monet will make us pancakes in the morning and we’ll spend the day playing games and taking walks in the forest.

On my birthday, she’ll make me some crochet thing and I’ll smile like it’s the best gift in the world, despite that it’s crooked. When it rains, I’ll camp outside with her in a tent or, if it’s a clear night, I’ll tell her I’m taking pictures of the shooting stars, but really, my eyes will be on her.

And when it’s time, I’ll propose to her with a family ring and put a baby in her. On Christmas, we’ll cut down a big tree from the back fifty, and I’ll decorate it while our children fight over who gets to open presents first, but she’ll giggle like she just did, and they’ll realize what a magical creature is before them…

Let me pretend.

Squeezing my eyes tighter, I try to hold on to it just as she pulls away. Schooling my face, I twirl her toward the toppings.

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