Page 83 of Craving Venom

I hate how much I arch into it. How much my body begs for it.

His hand slides lower, forcing my thighs apart, and the bottle follows.

My breath shatters as Zane taps the mouth of the bottle against my pussy, right against my clit, sending a sharp jolt of sensation through me. My whole body locks up.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Zane—”

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name without spitting it out like an insult.” His smirk is nothing but mockery. “What’s wrong, good girl?”

The glass nudges against my slick, gliding effortlessly between my folds.

“You were so eager to grab this bottle earlier,” he muses, teasing my entrance with the rim. “So eager to hurt me with it.”

I suck in a sharp breath, every muscle trembling. His hand moves to my throat, gripping just tight enough to remind me who’s in control.

“But since you like to think about hurting me,” he murmurs, lifting my chin up, forcing me to look at him, “I’d love to show you every way it can be used.”

The cracked glass circles my clit, sliding through my wetness with humiliating ease.

“I—” My voice breaks. I shake my head violently. “I’m sor—”

Zane doesn’t let me finish.

The bottleneck shoves inside, just half an inch, but it’s too much. A scream rips from my throat so violently that my own ears ring with it. My body lurches forward, desperate to escape, but Zane drags me back, forcing me to take it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Sing for me, baby.”

“Zane,”

He twists the glass, and I nearly black out.

“No,” I gasp, my back arching violently. “No, no, no—please!”

“Fuck, you’re tight.” His growl is strained, almost wrecked, like the way I’m breaking apart is turning him on more than he can handle.

I shake my head frantically, the edges of my vision swimming.

“You wanted to hurt me,” Zane snarls, pushing the bottle another fraction deeper. “So tell me, baby girl—” His teeth scrape my jaw. “How does it fucking feel?”

Another wave of pain slams into me. My legs nearly give out, but he holds me up, keeps me locked between his body and the window.

I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.

A choked sob escapes. “Please.”

Zane exhales sharply, his breath hot against my skin. The grip on my throat tightens hard enough to make my pulse hammer harder.

“You can do better than that.”

My chest heaves, panic choking me from the inside out. I can’t stop shaking. My pussy flutters around the glass, but there’s nowhere to go.

A sharp, splintering crack snaps through the air.

A frightened scream rips from my throat. My body jerks, but Zane doesn’t let me move. His arm bands around my stomach, keeping me pinned, making sure I stay impaled on the bottle.

My head snaps forward, and my eyes drop.

More cracks.

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