Page 209 of Craving Venom

“Much better.” The gun drags down just slightly before pressing it flat against the curve of my neck.

“I told you, baby.”

The sound leaving his lips is nothing but the scrape of silk over steel now.

“I’ll make you beg for me.”

My throat dries out. No. I can’t let this happen, but my body doesn’t care about reason or survival. My nipples tighten against the lace, and the slow, aching throb between my thighs deepens until it’s all I can feel.

The barrel traces lower, slipping down the curve of my shoulder, letting the edge catch under the thin strap of my camisole.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

The strap slides from my shoulder in a slow whisper of fabric, and the silencer follows, tracing the soft curve of my breast before slipping under the other strap, stripping it away.

My body arches into him.

“Relax,” he breathes, dragging the barrel down between my breasts, letting it trail over the lace covering my skin.

The metal is warm now, heated from the shot that shattered the mirror, but there’s still enough of a chill to make my skin erupt with goosebumps.

I feel the edge of the gun catch on the lace, pulling it slightly before he lifts it away.

“Take it off.”

I swallow hard while my hands tremble as I reach behind me.

I pull the camisole over my head, the fabric catching for a second before sliding down my arms, leaving my breasts bare and exposed

“Good girl.”

He presses the silencer flat against my nipple.

The warmth of it sinks into my skin, making my pussy clench around nothing. The barrel circles my nipple, dragging over the sensitive skin in lazy, torturous circles.

My back arches, pushing my breast into the heat of the gun.

He pulls the gun away, only to drag it over the flat plane of my stomach and down to the waistband of my tights. My fingers hook into the waistband, pulling the fabric down my hips, letting it pool at my ankles. My skin prickles, exposed and bare except for the lace panties that barely cover anything.

The gun finds the swell of my pussy through the panties, pressing against the damp fabric. My hips twitch forward on instinct. The warm metal pushes into my clit, sending a jolt of electricity ripping through my nerves. I hiss and grip the cell bars beside me. Somehow, my body rocks into it, whether by instinct or something darker I can’t bring myself to name.

“How are you feeling right now?”

There’s no mercy hidden in the shadows of his face. He’s asking because he wants to hear me break. Because he wants me to know I’ve already surrendered.

I give him the only truth he deserves, the only truth that still exists between us.

“Captive.”

A slow smile bleeds across his mouth. I don’t even have to see it. I can feel it. He presses the barrel a little harder against my clit, coaxing a broken gasp out of me.

“Most people think captivity is cruel,” he breathes, brushing the silencer back and forth across the soaked folds, teasing the trembling edge of my body. “But they’re wrong, good girl.”

The barrel circles lazily, cruelly, building heat until I’m shaking.

“Cages don’t weaken you.”

A sob claws up my throat, but it twists into a scream the second he thrusts the silencer a hair’s breadth inside.

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