Page 46 of The Vipers and Their Vendetta

“Too late.”

He undoes the ropes holding her wrists together, and ties them at the front, then he flips her over.

“Keep still, Venom,” he warns with a slap to her ass.

Then he unzips, the sound a threat in the silence of the room.

CHAPTER 18

Vani

I can’t believethis is happening.

Lex gave me a safe word. He said if I use it, he’d make everything stop. That word was Harley, and right now, it’s dancing on the tip of my tongue. I’m about to get fucked in the ass, while I’m bound in rope, and honestly, I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to feel about this. One part of my brain is screaming, “No, don’t. It’s too much!” While the other part really wants to see where all this leads.

It’s simultaneously the most erotic and terrifying experience of my life.

I came here with an idea, the early formations of a plan, but as usual, these men are scrambling my brains. I’m far too turned on to leave and safe word out of this, but I’m also scared to death of where this will go. The air is charged with danger and an edge of violence. Maybe I’m a sicker puppy than I ever realized because I like it, and that makes me as fucked up as them.

Glancing at Saint as he passes his twin the lube, his eyes unfocused and almost wild with need, I shiver.

Will they even pay attention to the safe word? I honestly don’t know. They seem to think I’m lying about my reason for being here, that I’m working for Jarl Olsen, and he plans to gethis revenge. Is that what they really believe? If that is the case, doesn’t that make them guilty? Why would they be so paranoid about it if they were innocent?

Does that mean I’m bound and getting fucked by my sister’s three killers?

This is all so fucked up. But I still don’t use the safe word.

There’s that little part of me that wants to see where this madness leads, and a part of me wants to make them think they’re winning. Make them think they’re in charge, because I have figured something out—these men are as obsessed with me as I am with them.

They aren’t screwing other women. I’m not their pump and dump, to use the horrible term some of the bikers throw around. I’m not one of many. I’m their only girl right now. The one they can’t stay away from. They’re insane, and obnoxious, and fucking sexy as hell with it, but they’re also as messed up in the head about me as I am about them, and I plan to somehow use that against them.

If it means I get my rocks off too, then all the better, I tell myself, repeatedly, that’s it. That’s all there is to this. I’m not doing any of this because part of me needs it more than air. Of course not.

Love, hate. What a fine dividing line we walk between the two.

How to make them pay without falling for them all over again? That’s my dilemma.

I can’t shame them because they’re guys and this is fine according to our world of double standards. The three of them and me isn’t bad for anyone’s reputation except mine.

I have thought about this as I stewed in my room after they wrote about me on the lockers. One thing I do know is they get jealous of one another when it comes to me, and somethingtells me that’s a new experience for them. What if I make that experience a whole lot worse?

Play them off against one another.

The three of them are like one person in many ways. They seem to share an innate understanding of one another, and they even share their own version of sign language. They still have their own needs and desires, however. What if I get between them and use those needs and desires as the very thing to drive a wedge between them?

Lex smooths his hand down my spine, as if he’s taming a wild horse. It’s not a bad analogy because I’m two seconds away from bolting. The way these guys are tonight, I’m scared he’s going to actually hurt me.

The pop on the lube bottle is deafening because of what it signifies.

“Putain de merde,” Saint murmurs, as if he’s awe struck watching Lex and me.

It’s uncomfortable in this position because of how I’m tied. My knees are on the floor, and Lex has me rested on elbows and hands that are now bound in front of me. He oils himself up, the sound of flesh against flesh loud enough to hear. There’s a pause, and I tense, despite not knowing what is happening, before I feel a cold shock as he drizzles some of the lube over my most sensitive and secret spot.

He lines his head up with me, and I experience a jolt of panic. I don’t know if I can do this. As if he senses that at any moment I’m going to scream out the safe word he gave me, Lex leans over me and kisses my neck gently.

“You can do this,” he says. “It will make us all so hot. You included. Trust me, it will feel so good, once you get past the initial burn.”

As if he would know. It’s fine, him whispering pretty nothings in my ear, but he’s not the one about to be impaled.

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