Page 31 of The Vipers and Their Venom

Lex looks uncomfortable. Outright forcing her most definitely won’t be his thing. He’ll tell himself he’s being a decent guy this way, by offering her a choice, even though there’s nothing decent about it.

I’m not worried about her saying no. I think she’ll say yes. I think she’ll say yes even if Nathaniele already has her on tape because I think she’ll want us. I caught a glimpse of her desire—the way her breath had quickened and her lips had parted—when she was staring at my erection yesterday. And all women want to fuck Saint. Whether she’ll still want him when he reveals the depths of his depravity, who knows, but right now? She does.

If she’s been in an MC and spent her life there, she’ll have been around women who were passed around like meat and used like a fucking wank sock. We don’t do that. We make them come so hard they aren’t ever going to be the fucking same.

No one would have cared if those women came or were remotely happy. She won’t have seen that shit upfront, but she’llhave picked up on the vibes. I definitely want her to suck my dick, but I’m not averse to giving her a fuck-ton of orgasms of her own.

If you can give a woman the best sex of her life, when so many men are shit in bed, you can give her a whole new appreciation of it and desire for it.

Vani will be the same.

When we give her that, she will be hooked.

18

VANI

I’m so nervous, my hands are shaking, and I have to grit my teeth to prevent them from chattering.

I use the maps app on my phone to wind my way through the woods and ensure I’m heading in the right direction.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. So many times, I’ve thought of simply not showing, but if I didn’t, I do believe Lex would go to Mr. Rossi.

This is a dangerous and stupid thing I am doing, but there’s also a part of me that’s turned on and excited. I find these three men intriguing and hot as hell. Zane, especially, has me thinking all the time about his size and sheer heft. He’s huge, and I bet he fucks like a machine. I imagine his powerful thigh muscles bunching as he rams into me, working that big body and chasing the high.

God, I need to get a grip. I’m not going there as an equal. There might not be any fun in this for me. They are going to offer me a deal, and I’m not stupid. I can imagine what it will be. Give them hand jobs and suck their dicks in exchange for their silence.

Still, when they actually say it, I plan on acting outraged and shocked.

I decided something in the early hours of this morning. If they want my body, they can have it. Not my V-card, but the rest. But they don’t getme. I’m going to mess with their heads the way they clearly want to with mine. Let them think I’m innocent and naïve, and then when they aren’t expecting it, hit them with something like a striptease or a suck job where I spit on their cock and work them so hard and fast they see stars.

When I’m done with them, they won’t know if I’m the Madonna or the whore or both. I’ll never let them have or see the real me. I’ll play their twisted games, but nothing more.

I almost laugh out loud when a thought hits. What if they don’t want me for kinky sex sessions but it turns out they just want my help with getting some other girl to notice them?

Oh, God, what if I’ve read this all wrong?

I’ve been imagining all this crazy bad stuff, but I could be so wrong. They might not even want me that way, and I should be relieved at the thought, but instead, I feel a sharp bite of disappointment.

I want them to desire me.

The woods open into a clearing, revealing a small, dilapidated building. It’s definitelynota mansion, no matter what they call it. A couple of the windows on the first floor are cracked, and the roof looks like it’s missing a few tiles. Nature has also tried to reclaim the place, ivy crawling up most of the front, and vines creeping around the guttering. It has a certain charm, though—like a cottage in a fairytale. But then I remind myself that things tend not to go well for whoever enters those cottages.

There are lights on behind the cracked windows. It’s not quite dark, and I stand there, wondering if they know I’m here yet. I try to get a feel of what’s going on inside, but there’s no music playing or voices to be heard.

I have no idea what I’m walking into.

I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, rubbing at the bare skin of my shoulders. I should have brought a hoodie. Instead, I’m in a strappy top and a pair of baggy sweatpants. The top reveals my curves, while the pants try to say I’m not trying too hard. Who the fuck am I kidding?

I think of the file I took from the dean’s office. It covers most of my sister’s time at the school—her report cards, her sporting event achievements, her room number. It’s proof she’s here and gives me plenty to go on. Especially her room number.

I go to the front door and lift my hand to knock, but it opens before I get the chance.

The space is filled with Zane’s huge form. He stares down at me with those breathtaking eyes and says nothing.

I try to imagine what life is like for him. He must be so frustrated, not being able to make himself heard. Although with his size and charisma, he clearly still makes his presence felt.

“Are you going to let me in, big guy,” I say, trying to sound playful rather than terrified, “or are we just going to stand here, staring at each other?”

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