Page 139 of Craving Venom

I twist, yanking away from his touch. “Don’t—”

The disgust in my voice is clear. Or at least, it should be.

But when his lips find my neck, a moan betrays me.

His fingers inch higher, pushing my camisole up, grazing the undersides of my tits. He hums against my throat, the vibration sparking an unbearable sensation between my thighs.

“I’m going to feast on these,” he rasps.

I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood.

I yank against the belt, but it only makes the leather bite deeper. My camisole slides up past my ribs, past my collarbones, and suddenly—shit—it’s covering my eyes.

“Can you not?”

Darkness swallows me whole as my vision is snatched away. The sound of fabric tearing barely registers before cool air brushes between my thighs.

I scream in panic, trying to snap my knees shut, but Zane doesn’t let me.

“Spread your legs.”

I squeeze them shut, my breath ragged. “Zane, stop—”

The slap lands hard against my pussy with a sharp, wet smack, sending a quick flash of pain through me as my hips jerk violently. I hate that my clit throbs from being slapped, that my nipples ache, that heat festers inside me, growing into a filthy ache I can’t smother.

“Don’t ask me to stop when this pussy belongs to me.”

“Yeah right,” I scoff, spitting the words. “You don’t own me, you motherfu—”

He shoves two fingers deep inside me.

My body seizes as my breath catches on a choked sob, my walls clenching around the sudden and ruthless intrusion. My thighs twitch, and my hips push forward before I even realize what I’m doing.

I barely have a second to breathe before those same fingers, now drenched in my juices are shoved against my lips.

I snap my teeth together.

He grips my jaw, forcing it open, and shoves his fingers inside. I choke as the taste of myself floods my tongue.

“Taste your own lies, Faith.”

His fingers push deeper, smearing my wetness along my tongue, against the roof of my mouth, dragging along my teeth like he wants to brand me from the inside out.

Zane finally pulls his fingers from my mouth, leaving a slick trail of spit along my lips. My throat convulses, desperate to purge the taste of myself from my tongue.

A wet slurp echoes in the room.

I hear it again and it’s louder, more exaggerated, as if he’s making a show of it.

“That’s—” I gag on my own spit, still tasting myself on my tongue. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

“You’re already tied up. Don’t make me shut you up.”

My breath stutters, but I force my lips into a sneer. “What, are you scared I might hurt your fragile ego?”

I open my mouth to say something worse, something cruel, something that might actually get under his thick skin but something cold touches my stomach.

“Zane—”

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