Page 57 of Craving His Venom

Tears slip down my cheeks, a mix of sorrow and fierce devotion. “You don’t have to,” I whisper, clinging to him. “Not now, not ever.”

In that hush, raw longing takes hold. We have so little time, so many dangers swirling around us. Yet I crave his touch, the affirmation that we exist beyond the council’s shackles. My hands slide under his robe, feeling the ridges of black scales. He exhales a stuttering breath, closing the space between us until our foreheads meet.

“Is it safe for... you, for the baby?” he asks, tail coiling around my leg, unsure.

I nod, cheeks flushing. “Talli said moderate intimacy is safe. And right now, I need you,” I admit, voice quavering. “I need to remember there’s more than fear.”

A low growl resonates in his chest, vibrantly aroused, tail hugging me closer. His double shafts stir beneath the robes, pressing against my thigh. A thrilling flutter courses through me, overshadowing the worry. Gently, I tug his robe open, letting my palms explore the familiar warmth of his scaled arms and broad shoulders.

He kneads my waist with careful fingers, mindful of my changing body. Each kiss sears away the day’s horror. I tilt my head back, granting him access to my throat, and he accepts the invitation with hungry lips, trailing kisses and faint grazes of fang that make me gasp. The tension in my limbs uncoils, replaced by an urgent desire to fuse with him, to forget the watchers outside this door.

We stumble to the cot, breath mingling in hushed moans. He lifts me, placing me carefully on the thin mattress. Our eyes lock, an unspoken vow in the hush. Then his tail snakes around my thigh, easing apart my legs. My pulse thunders. I recall every moment of our previous encounters, how he ensured I never felt pain beyond that first intense stretch. Now, with my pregnancy, we must be extra cautious, yet the want simmers, unstoppable.

He shifts his lower body, revealing the double shafts once more, barbs glinting faintly in the lamp’s glow. My heart flips in both excitement and nerves. But the slow, reverent way he braces his hands at my hips soothes me. We’ve navigated this before, forging passion from taboo. I arch, guiding him closer.

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips, then lowers his mouth to my collarbone, tracing gentle circles with his tongue. My breath falters. Each touch sends sparks of sensation through me, overshadowing the fear that’s become our constantcompanion. I slide my hands over his shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle and the ridges of scale.

When he enters me, it’s a careful intrusion—reverent, aching, like he’s rediscovering the shape of my body through the lens of need and caution.

I gasp as the first thick head of his lower cock pushes into me, the stretch instant and shocking, a slow blooming ache that builds into pleasure. He’s always been big—gods, too big—but this time, it’s different. My body has changed, hips slightly wider, walls more sensitive. The moment he begins to fill me, my whole body tightens around him like it’s missed this. Missedhim.

A ragged moan tears from his throat, his forehead dropping to mine. “Gods, Mira…” he breathes. “You feel even tighter.”

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, threading trembling fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to keep him close. “I want all of you.”

He growls softly—low and guttural—his tail coiling around my thigh to brace me as the second cock presses in, gliding against my swollen folds. It doesn't push inside yet—just rubs up and down, the ridged space between his shafts grinding directly over my clit, making my breath hitch in a sharp gasp.

“Oh gods Vahziryn?—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Let me make you forget everything else.”

The barbs drag gently along my inner walls as he moves, and I cry out, shocked at the surge of pleasure they wring from me. They don’t hurt—theyclaim. Each pull is a delicious bite of friction that leaves my pussy fluttering around him, dripping, hungry.

He rocks into me slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing every reaction. My whimpers, the way I clutch his arms whenhe sinks deeper. The way my legs shake when the second shaft finally nudges at my entrance and slides in beside the first.

“Too much?” he asks, voice tight.

“No.More.”

My cunt stretches around the impossible fullness of both cocks, the space between them stimulating every nerve. That slick ridge drags over my clit with every stroke, and the moment he starts to move—short thrusts, hips grinding—I nearly sob.

“Fuck—you feel so good—sofull,” I pant, hips rolling instinctively to meet each drive.

“You were made for this,” he growls. “For me. I can feel you gripping both cocks like you’re trying to milk them.”

“Iam,” I moan shamelessly. “I want to wring every drop from you.”

He loses the last thread of restraint.

His tail wraps tight around my hip, holding me flush as he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and slams in deeper, angle hitting some devastating place that has me seeing stars. The barbs tug and scrape and tease, sending sparks through my belly. My pussy is soaked, fluttering around him with every pounding thrust, my clit caught between that sensitive ridge.

It’s overwhelming. It’s perfect. It’s everything I didn’t know I still had the strength to feel.

“You’re mine,” he hisses into my ear. “Not the council’s. Not the world’s.Mine.”

I grab his face and kiss him hard, moaning into his mouth as he fucks me deeper, harder. His cocks throb inside me, barbs locking every few strokes and forcing short, frantic thrusts that have me crying out again and again.

“I need you to come,” he says hoarsely. “I need to feel you fall apart around me.”

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