Page 48 of The Vipers and Their Venom

Wet,he mouths, and my gaze lingers on his lips as the soft whisper, almost so quiet I can’t hear it, brushes over my skin.

I whimper, and my hips move to meet his caresses. His fingers are big, and they feel so good playing with my pussy. He circles my clit with his thumb, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing. I chase my orgasm, a part of me wanting to get it over with before we get caught. Does he want that? Does he want people to see us?

It occurs to me that this might be his way of getting revenge. Though what happened in the cafeteria was hardly my fault, I ran out of there and left him to face the consequences.

Is he trying to ruin my reputation by making me look like a slut? I haven’t even been here a full week yet, and I’ve already seen more action than I’ve had my entire adult life.

I reach down and grab his wrist. “Zane, please, no. I can’t.”

But his arm is as solid as a tree trunk, and he keeps moving his fingers inside me. Suddenly, one slips from my pussy, slides backward, and pushes against my asshole. I let out a shriek, and he sits up to use his other hand to cover my mouth. I struggle beneath him, but he penetrates my asshole with one of his smaller fingers, keeping the other two embedded in my pussy.

His fingers pump in and out of me. I’ve never been touched like this before. His hand clamps over my lips, preventing me from screaming again—though this time with pleasure.

He’s silent, and now so am I.

He holds my gaze the entire time as he finger fucks me. I’m sure my eyes are wild, my face and chest flushed. He’s wringing an orgasm from me whether I want it or not. No amount of pleading or begging has made any difference.

Zane knew what he wanted, and he took it.

My body is as taut as a bow. Having his finger in my ass has only heightened everything I’m feeling. He’s claiming me, and maybe I need to be grateful he’s only using his fingers and not his cock. My pleasure grows and builds, until it’s all I can focus on, all I can think about. I no longer care about getting caught. All I want is that high.

Zane jams his fingers deep inside me, and I hit my peak. My climax breaks and shatters right through me. I come hard, squeezing my eyes shut and seeing stars. My pussy and ass clamp and pulse around his digits, and I shake and gasp, trying to breathe against the wedge of his palm over my face.

When I finally slump back onto the ground, relishing the solidity of the earth beneath me, he slides his fingers from my body and yanks my bra and top back into place. A smile ofsatisfaction plays on his lips, and he gets to his feet. He still has a huge erection beneath his jeans, but it’s clearly fine to expose me in the middle of the field, just not himself.

He walks away, leaving me lying there, still breathing hard and wondering what the hell just happened.

27

SAINT

Isit and think about what is going on with Zane and can’t figure out a way to help him. How the fuck would I feel if I lost the ability to speak forever? I’d be crushed.

Lex paces the room. We will wait here because Zane will be back when he calms down. If we chase after him, he’ll get more pissed and feel like we’re crowding him, or worse, pitying him. Zane has a huge chip on his shoulder about being pitied.

“Did you give Venom a nice orgasm in the bathroom?” I ask Lex. “Say all the right words, and tell her what a good girl she is?” I’m being an ass, but I’m in a bad mood, and he’s the only one here.

“I keep telling you, Saint, you catch more flies with honey, at least in the bedroom. You might think the girls come back because of you, but I know better.”

Like fuck he does. Some women have a masochistic streak a mile wide, and I can always spot it. Funnily enough, I didn’t see that in Vani. She’s a contradictory creature.

“I thinktheyworship me, andyouworship them,” I say.

“That’s because you don’t understand the dynamics quite the way you think you do,” Lex shoots back. “Anyway, I don’t knowwhy you’re busting my chops. This is the way we’ve always done it … ever since, you know.”

He says nothing more, and I don’t either. But we’re both thinking back to it. Two fourteen-year-old boys, ignored by their father and on their third stepmother and God only knows what number nanny. I think she was number eight, the one we had when we were fourteen. Neither of us thought we still needed a nanny by then, but our father said we did.

She’d been in her thirties and quite plain. Conservative in her dress, and yet, underneath her prim skirts and dowdy hair hid an entirely different beast. That nanny seduced us both, and it messed us up.

I can still recall the way she’d sneered at me and mocked me when I couldn’t get hard. Now I look back, I realize I wasn’t much more than a child then, and that she’d wanted me in such a way sickens me. But, at the time, I’d believed myself to be a young man, and I’d been flattered that an older woman had come on to me. Inexperience and nerves had taken hold, however, and, despite the flattery, I hadn’t been able to get an erection. My mortification had turned to anger, and I’d lost it. I called her filthy names, horrible names, putting her down and degrading her, and as her confidence crumpled and the tables turned, I got hard. Then I fucked her, and it had been the first time I’d ever been with a woman or girl. It’s now a need I have, and it is bone deep, a part of me etched on my tarnished soul.

“Do you ever think how we might have turned out if we hadn’t had that nanny?” Lex surprises me with the question because we don’t ever talk about it.

“I mean, we’d still have been arrogant assholes—conards,” I say. “Just maybe a bit more vanilla.”

He laughs. “Yes, and where’s the fun in that?”

“Right?”

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