Page 79 of Beautiful Venom

Isuppose.

A whimper rips from her lips and she thrashes, her movements making the leather sofa creak beneath her. She curls her fingers, stretching and pulling at the jersey. It rides up, revealing her white panties and stomach.

Even under the soft light, the contrast of the white jersey is striking against her tanned skin.

My dick twitches to life and I tear my gaze from her to look out the window.

Her throaty moans echo in the air, silky and fucking erotic.

Apparently, the concept of keeping myself in check escapes me when this girl is around, because I tilt my head in her direction again.

Dahlia has slipped her right hand into her panties, touching herself in a frantic, uncoordinated motion.

The scent of her wafts in the air as she releases a sound that’s a mixture of a moan and a whine. Her left hand gropes and strokes her tits beneath the shirt.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I stride toward her and clutch her hand that’s in her pussy and yank it out.

Big mistake. Because, now, not only does the room smell like her sweet pussy, but it’s also the only thing I can breathe.

“Dahlia, wake up.”

“Mmm.”

“Dahlia, open your fucking eyes.”

“P-please…please…”

God fucking damn it.

I adjust myself, but it does nothing to deflate the bulge in my pants.

My knuckles brush her warm cheek as I tap. “Begging will get you fucked, wildflower.”

Her eyes blink open, slightly glazed over, the color more brown than green, sparkling as she studies my face.

“Kane…”

My name falls out of her mouth in a soft moan and I close my eyes.

Down.

Stay fuckingdown.

“Kane…” she moans again, softer, needier. “I’m warm.”

I open my eyes and start to pull my hand away. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“No… It’s uncomfortable. Mmm.” She grabs my hand with both her smaller ones and presses it on her soaking wet panties. “Touch me. Make it go away.”

Fucking hell.

Who knew that the ever-proud Dahlia Thorne, a literal thorn in my side, has this needy, seductive side to her?

“Want me to touch you here?” I lazily stroke her over the damp fabric and she throws her head back, her skin flushed, forehead sweaty.

“Yes, yes!More.”

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