Page 168 of Craving Venom

I press my mouth closer and let my breath trickles down his neck. “Her name.”

“Khloe.”

The name sticks in my throat. “With a K?”

He nods, barely.

I shift my grip to control the pace, and I feel his cock twitching against his own reluctant hand as blood starts to rush back in.

“Tell me about her.”

His jaw locks.

I tighten the pressure. The strokes slow to a crawl.

He shakes his head.

I bring my lips against the shell of his ear. “I’ll stop,” I threaten. “Leave you here hard and hating yourself. I’ll take that little bit of control back and leave you with the mess.”

His throat works beneath the bruises as he swallows, and I wonder if he’s about to shut me out again.

“She had these brown eyes...”

“What kind of brown?” I ask, dragging it out of him inch by inch.

“Fuck-mebrown,” he breathes. “That kind of warm, deep brown that makes your knees shake if she looks at you too long.”

His wrist moves a little easier now. I keep it steady. Just enough friction to make him forget the cell walls, the shame, everything but her.

“Keep going,” I entice.

“She has olive skin, sun-kissed and smooth, nothing dry or flaking the way the girls around here fake with bronzer. She barely wore makeup. Didn’t need to. Her lashes were thick, curving upward with the perfection of a painted portrait.”

He sucks in a shaky breath.

“Her nose had this little bump on the bridge from when she broke it surfing, and she never got it fixed. She said it gave her face character. She was right.”

The strokes quicken slightly, sufficient to keep him from losing momentum.

“Her lips were…” He groans, closing his eyes. “Fuck. Full. Soft. The top one was shaped like a damn heart. She used to chew on it when she was nervous. Or horny. Or both.”

The tip of his cock is flushed now, leaking a little as his hand glides under my grip.

“What else?”

“She had this freckle,” he reminisces, “just under her left eye. Small. Easy to miss. But when I kissed her face, I always aimed for it first.”

“What did she like?” I press. “When she moaned, what got her there?”

“She—” He shakes his head. “Stop.”

“Did she ride your cock?” My grip tightens around his wrist, forcing a full stroke from base to tip. His cock’s harder now. “Ordid she get on her knees and open her mouth like a good little slut?”

“Zane—”

I jerk his hand again with a sharp motion as wet sounds start to fill the space between us, pre-cum sliding down his shaft. “Answer.”

He snaps his eyes open and stares at me. “Both.”

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