Page 254 of Craving Venom

Her eyes widen.

“You want me naked?” I drag my fingers down her cheek, over her lips. “Strip me.”

She swallows hard, then slowly reaches for the hem of my hoodie. Her fingers brush against my stomach, tremble slightly as she bunches the fabric. She lifts it slowly, revealing the ink etched into my stomach, my ribs. Her palm moves over my abs, trailing higher to my chest.

“You’re covered in ink,” she whispers, awe mixing with heat.

“They’re not decorations.”

Without asking a single question about my tattoos, she pulls the hoodie off completely. Her eyes roam over every line, as if trying to read me like I’m a story she’s afraid to finish.

She stares at my chest with equal parts of reverence and danger in her eyes. She knows touching me is a bad idea and does it anyway.

Then she lowers herself.

My fists clench. Every muscle in my body tenses as she slides her hands down my sides, skating her fingers just under the waistband of my jeans.

She’s stalling.

“You’re playing with my patience,” I growl.

She doesn’t answer. Just presses her lips to my stomach. A kiss. Soft. Almost innocent. Then another, just below my navel.

“Faith,” I warn, gnashing my teeth. “Take. It. Off.”

She meets my eyes, and fuck there’s fear in them. Real fear. But there’s something else, too.

Power.

She’s trying to take it.

Her hands move to my belt. She unfastens it like she’s undressing a god she doesn’t know how to worship. Every sound, the clink of the buckle, the drag of leather, makes my cock throb harder.

She doesn’t rush.

She unbuttons my jeans, then slowly pulls the zipper down. Her knuckles graze my cock and I nearly lose it.

“Faith.”

She pushes my jeans down, and they catch around my thighs. My cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.

“You’re shaking,” she whispers, mouth still ghosting over me.

Because I’m holding myself back. Every second she draws this out, I want to rip the skin off my own body and fuck her right here, on the cold floor, against these shelves, between the pages of every book that’ll never be this dirty.

I’ve always considered myself a strong man. The kind of bastard who could carve through anyone and anything without so much as flinching. But Faith is my undoing. She makes my pulse hammer against my ribs, my blood surge with a heat I’ve never felt before. She makes me doubt that I’m untouchable, because right now, I feel more human than I ever have. Weak, in a way.

Her fingers brush the base of my cock. She drags one fingertip along the thick vein running down the underside. I hiss through my teeth.

She looks up at me.

“You like that?” she asks softly, but it’s manipulative as hell.

She leans in, presses the softest kiss to the swollen tip. My cock jumps.

“Good girl,” I grit out, threading my fingers through her hair.

She kisses me again. This time a little lower. Then again, dragging her mouth down my shaft, worshipping every inch.

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