Page 84 of Craving Venom

Spiderweb fractures bloom across the thick glass, spreading outward. My pussy clenches involuntarily, and fresh terror slams into me.

If this thing breaks inside me—

Oh, fuck. Oh,fuck.

A knife would be instant. A clean, sharp cut. A quick death.

But this?

This would be slow. Excruciating. A nightmare of splintered glass and torn flesh and him watching me bleed out with that same amused smirk.

“You’re shaking.” He drags his teeth over the curve of my shoulder. “I wonder… is that fear, or are you just desperate for me to fuck you?”

My stomach turns, rage and terror twisting into something volatile. My lips part before I can think, before I can stop the words from spilling out.

“You break that inside me, and you won’t have anything left to fuck.”

His growl deepens, and his grip on the bottle tightens just slightly, like he’s contemplating it.

Fuck.

My mind is screaming at me to shut up, to fuckingsubmit, but my mouth has never known when to quit.

Zane presses his face into my hair, inhaling the scent of my shampoo and fear.

“Then I guess I’ll have to pull the pieces out one by one,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “And fuck you with my fingers.” He rolls the bottleneck, just enough to make me feel the rough edge scraping against my walls.

“Then my tongue,” he continues, dragging his teeth along my throat.

The bottle sinks deeper.

“And then my cock.”

My pussy clenches—fuck, why?—and I hear more splinters. More fractures crawling through the glass lodged inside me.

“Feel that, Faith?” His fingers tighten on the bottle. “Your greedy little cunt is making it worse.”

My walls pulse again, and he chuckles. Then he works the bottleneck deeper, stretching me around the glass. My breath shudders out of me, but I bite my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

He doesn’t fucking stop.

Every inch slides like a slow descent into madness, my body alight with pleasure and terror in equal measure. I hate him. I hate him. I hate—

I choke back a moan.

His mouth curls against my ear. “I think you like this.”

I bare my teeth. “I think you’re sick.”

“You’re not wrong.” He thrusts it shallowly, and I jerk, gasping. “Come for me.”

No.

If I come, it’s because my body is fucking stupid. Not because of him. Not because he made me.

I refuse.

But my own traitorous pussy is begging for something I won’t give him. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches, shaking my head.

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