Page 137 of Sweet Venom
It wasn’t so she’d apologize or feel guilty. In reality, I don’t think I ever meant to kill Violet Winters like I have the other targets.
Maybe I would’ve if I hadn’t met her first and she hadn’t given me her umbrella and a protein bar. Or maybe I would’ve still seen the true Violet and decided not to hurt her either way.
Sometimes, I think my rage toward her, my inability to stay away, and all the fucking bad habits I developed because of her are just my mind’s way of rebelling against the logic that I should kill her for not saving Mom.
And maybe I should.
But I won’t.
Not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to.
Not when I’m goddamn addicted to her.
Her rose scent, her abundant smiles, her beautiful grace, and her irrevocably kind nature.
But mostly, it’s the way she submits to me, how she looks at me with hooded eyes, and how she traces her fingers along my tattoos as if she wants to memorize them.
Especially the barren tree tattoo. I’ll catch her looking at it and my scars whenever I’m naked. Which is most of the time when I’m in her company.
Since the time I first fucked her, I’ve been doing it every day. Sneaking into her house—or kind of walking in, really—waiting for her to come home so I can snatch and fuck her against the door like a feral animal.
And Violetlovesthat. She’s even started wearing sexy lingerie beneath her clothes for the daily fucking. Her favorite type of sex is when I wake her up with my mouth, fingers, or cock.
She truly loves somnophilia, my Violet, getting so wet and noisy and then coming for such a long time.
She doesn’t tell me directly, but she writes her thoughts in her journal that she knows fully well I read.
I loved last night so much. Not only was the sex so intense and amazing, but also waking up with his mouth on my pussy made me even more turned on. Next time, I want to be woken up with penetration. I know, I know. Something’s wrong with me.
He listened. I want more, but I can’t say it out loud, so I’m writing about it here.
I think I’m having too much mind-blowing sex lately. Is this normal?
It was a form of communication, I suppose. Even though I’d rather she ask for what she wants directly, but we’ll get there.
Eventually.
I still don’t know whatthereis or what the fuck we’re even doing, but I refuse the very idea of not spending my nights in the penthouse, slipping into Violet’s bed like a degenerate stalker and fucking her brains out.
It should be disturbing, the reason I even came into her life, but I couldn’t care less.
Even as I’m playing right now, I lift my head and look at where she’s standing.
Our eyes meet, and she pauses in the middle of whispering something to Dahlia.
She’s in the front row, across from me, with only the glass separating us, and I can see a blush creeping up her neck and onto her face.
Fuck.
God fucking dammit.
Now, I can’t stop picturing the red marks I left on her ass last night as I fucked her from behind or the throat hickeys she’s covering with a turtleneck beneath the sweatshirt.
Violet bites her lower lip, and I’m hit with memories of my teeth sinking into those lips as I fucked and spanked her and made her scream?—
Something hard slams into me, and I’m flattened against the boards.
A collective gasp echoes through the crowd, and Violet brings both hands to her mouth as I straighten and consider smashing the motherfucker who cut off my thoughts.
