Page 22 of The Vipers' Vow

“You going to come again for me, my precious little slut?” I purr in her ear. “Show me how fucking messed up you are, Venom. Come for me again while I fuck your ass with this toy. Do you know how much this cost me? Only the best for my personal whore. This toy in your ass cost more than most men can spend on a car.”

She lets out a half sob.

“You like that, don’t you, huh?” I laugh. “Your greedy pussy loves my cock. You’re gripping me so tight. You like being my perfect whore who has to wear my butt plug the entire time you’re away. Except for when you’re sleeping,” I add. I don’t want to ruin her perfect, tight hole. “You’re to keep this in for the rest of the day.”

“I’m going to be riding for hours. I can’t wear this,” she gasps.

Smack.I hit her ass hard. “Don’t fucking argue with me, slut. You’ll wear it, and every time you feel it vibrating in your ass, you’ll think of me. The bike engine under you will make this thing vibrate so good up in your ass and you will probably come. That can be your secret. When my silent brother gets you under him, and we all know Zane will because you’re a bitch in heat and you need rutting regularly—don’t you, Vani?—then he’ll find this.”

She glances back at me, and there’s a beautiful mix of outright rage and need on her gorgeous face. Any other girl would be crying by now, but Vani is half set to murder me. I better make her come, then, before she finds a weapon.

My balls are so tight that I’m going to fucking lose it any second. I slap her pussy lightly, smacking over her clit, again and again. She fucking explodes. She comes so hard, the plug pushes out of her ass, and I have to press it back in, watching as everything from her pussy to her asshole contracts and releases over and over.

Jesus, she’s coming so hard, I can see it as well as feel it.

The visual is too much, and I lose it, too. “Fuck, Vani,merde.” I lose any semblance of rationality and just start saying utter filth to her in French as I come and come andcome.

My legs lock up, my muscles rigid as I empty myself into her. My mind blurs, and I swear I leave my body for a few seconds.

I’ve marked my territory, but I’m still not done.

8

VANI

Jesus, what the hell was that?

I’ve come so hard so often with these men, but that truly was insane. My pussy is throbbing, my ass is throbbing, and even my belly is too. My entire lower body is alive with deep, sensual contractions, and I can’t move. I was kneeling, but now my upper half has flopped over the bed. I’ve simply collapsed. I can’t hold myself up.

I try to move, but Saint holds me down.

“Stay and don’t move,” he says. “I need a picture of this to keep me warm while you’re away. Can I, Vani? Can I have a picture of you this way?”

“A photograph?” My voice is unsure. I know things are very still up in the air with these men, and Saint having a picture of me on his phone could be used against me in the worst way if he wanted to. “I don’t think a photo of me like this –”

“Did I say a photo,cherie?” he asks with a soft laugh. “I will sketch you.”

He pulls out of me, and I feel the wetness trickle between my thighs, and I’m frozen by a rush of shame to match the rush of fluids.

“Saint,” I say on a soft protest.

“Don’t fucking move, Vani,” he orders.

That order has me staying locked in place. I hate the way he can control me so easily. It’s only because I let him, though, and it’s even worse because of that. I let him because I like it, and that’s fucked up.

A moment later I hear the rustling of paper and turn to glance over my shoulder. Saint has taken a pocket sized sketch pad from the back pocket of his jeans, and is sitting behind me, a charcoal pencil in one hand, and the pad rested on his leg. He’s cross-legged, with the ankle of one leg on the opposite knee, and the pad on the raised knee.

He stares at me and smiles.

“I need to get going,” I say. “We don’t have time for your artistic endeavors right now.”

He laughs softly. “So sarcastic, Venom. For why? I will be fast. I can draw very quickly.”

His deft fingers move speedily over the white space, and he focuses between me and the paper, his eyes flicking up to me and back down again. “You’re so beautiful. While you’re gone, I will make this a painting. It needs color. Rose pink for your pussy lips, spread wide and wet like a flower in the dew.”

The poetic bastard.

“Red for the ruby at the end of the pretty little plug I bought you.”

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