Page 214 of Craving Venom

“I told you I’d ruin you.”

My pussy throbs at his words even as my brain screams for mercy. He stays motionless, his chest pressing against mine with every ragged breath, holding me in place while my body strains to stretch around him, reshaping itself to survive him.

His hips shift with a slow, brutal roll and the stretch turns savage.

“Nnhh—hah—”

“Listen to you,” Zane chides, amusement curling into something feral. “I haven’t even fucked you properly yet, and you’re already crying on my cock.”

Another helpless noise rips from me and I slap a hand weakly against his chest, but it’s useless. His body is immovable, pressing me harder into the cold door with every slow, punishing thrust.

“I’ll rip the good girl out of you,” he growls into my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, “and you’ll thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

I want to spit something smart back. Instead, a garbled whimper falls from my throat and my hips lift to meet his next brutal shove.

God, I am so stupid.

If survival is an instinct, mine is either dead or drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“P-please,” I mewl, and it isn’t even clear what I’m begging for anymore.

I can feel the orgasm building inside me, a brutal, clawing thing that tears through every ruined inch of my body. My toes curl. My fingers scrabble against his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me before I shatter.

Oh fuck. I’m close. So close.

Don’t you dare stop, you gorgeous, twisted asshole.

My mouth opens to scream, to tell him, but Zane feels it before I can even get the words out. He pulls back.

The loss is so brutal I gasp, hips jerking up into the empty space like I’m still chasing him.

“No—ahh—fuck—!” I can’t even form a sentence, just needy, broken noises and useless fists pounding against his shoulders.

Zane pulls back just enough to watch the devastation he’s carved into my body, smug satisfaction written all over his face.

“Good girl,” he croons and grips my cheeks, forcing my gaze up. “I’ve thought about this every fucking day,” he growls, dragging his mouth down the side of my face. “Nights where the only thing I had was my hand and the memory of your voice.”

His fingers tighten around my jaw, forcing my mouth open in a helpless gasp, and before I can even think, he slams back inside me with a brutal thrust.

He doesn’t give me time to adjust.

He doesn’t give me anything except more.

“Every fucking night, I imagined what you’d look like when I finally got inside you.”

His hand slides down between us with his palm gliding over my ribs before settling around my left tit.

“You’re thehiraethburied between my bones. The ache I was born with. The home I never fucking had. I searched for peace in violence, in pain, in everything that never looked like love,and then I saw you, and suddenly nothing I destroyed felt like enough.”

Tears sting my eyes, blurring the sharp angles of his face, but I can’t dwell on his words because his thumb drags over my nipple, before he grips tight, pressing hard enough to feel the frantic beat of my heart under his fingertips.

My toes curl around his back. My knees try to climb higher on his waist. He’s too fucking deep, but not deep enough at the same time. I need more. I need to be higher. I’m already impaled on him, but my body won’t stop begging.

I inch upward, digging my heels into the small of his back to lift myself against the door. My arms shake as I grip the bars for leverage and my muscles scream while I push myself to take more of him.

He lets out a low, satisfied grunt as his hands grip my hips with a force that tries to fuse our bodies into one.

I don’t even recognize the sound that rips from my throat.

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