Page 209 of Tempting Venom
And he gave me a fucking ultimatum—knowing the meaning of my tattoo first. Something I’ll take to the grave, but honestly, I’m considering lying just so he’ll tell me.
Because I asked his ex-girlfriend Dallas—away from Kane, because he’s already suspecting something is up lately, and I don’t want to end up being questioned.
Anyway, I asked Destiny’s Child if she knows whether or not Marcus had a girlfriend he adored so dearly who couldhave loved daisies. I told her the reason I wanted to know is so that I can use her against him, of course. Defra said she’d never put the girl in danger even if she knew.
“Have you met Marcus?” She looked at me incredulously in class. “That guy is not capable of love.”
“Didn’t stop you from dating him.”
“A mistake I will never recover from. Do you know why I dumped him after only two weeks?”
“You came to your senses?”
“That and he tried to share me with his teammates.” Her lips snarled.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He said it was something about how he enjoys watching his fuck buddies being railed by others.”
I wonder if he shared the girl he got the fucking daisy tattoo for.
My fingers twitch and I picture a knife in my hands as I slash and stab and erase the fuck out of that tattoo until it’s all bloody and messy and unrecognizable?—
Jesus Christ.
Why the hell am I letting those gory thoughts loose? And what is this…feeling? The damning need for possession, to chain him to me so he’ll never have a way out.
I’m the one who said this is just sex, but who the fuck was I kidding?
There’s no way in hell I’d allow myself to be used like a greedy, little slut if it were just sex. I also wouldn’t have let him touch me so intimately, hug me…
Fuck—I let himhugme.
It still feels odd, and my skin prickles, and sometimes itreallyhurts worse than any of his lashes, but he doesn’t like it when I keep a distance.
I think if I continue to do that, if I keep running away, he’ll just abandon me.
LikeMom.
I squirm, and the bruises on my ass and thighs burn like hell. Marcus did lather them with some ointment earlier, but they’re still deliciously painful.
With a muffled moan, I shift a bit so I can watch him closer. The slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw—they all look so proportionate.
A wild strand of hair falls on his forehead, and I gently push it away, leaving my hand there. It burns a bit, like every time I touch him, my body recoiling against the notion of being so close, but I can’t stay away.
Can’t stop.
Even if I feel like I’m being split open by my demons from the inside.
And despite their groaning and moaning and slashes of pain, I just don’t move, letting my fingers linger on his warm skin.
Have I ever been this fascinated with a girl I fucked?
The answer is hell no. Never laid in bed with them or touched them.
Now that I think about it, sex used to be a mindless release. A way for me to let go of tension, holding the same importance as killing and slashing.
But it was all temporary, something that lasted for the moment, then quietly vanished.
