Page 66 of Tempting Venom
I’m so offended, I’m genuinely considering killing myself as an escape route.
“I thought you said not the face,” I groan, trying not to sound like I’m seconds away from coming in my shorts.
“Not the face, no.”
I feel him kneel behind me—and then my shorts and compression layers are yanked down.
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard, my eyes water as my fully pulsing dick springs free.
“This, however…” His hand glides over my ass, and nausea curls through me again.
“I told you to hurt me, not caress me?—”
Slap.
My breath cracks. Did he just…spank me?
Slap.
This time, I flinch—the good kind. Not the static-filled, dissociative kind.
“Like this?” His voice is deeper, rougher, as if he’s savoring every second.
“Sure, whatever,” I manage, my own voice embarrassingly breathy as the spark rushes across my body like a line of drugs.
A shot of liquor injected straight into my bloodstream.
Pain is good.
Pain makes sense.
I like pain.
I always thought the only kind available to me was Lenin’s—brutal, ugly, survival-driven—but I’ve never considered the…sexual category.
Well, okay, Ihaveconsidered it. I just never imagined actually trying.
Me, willingly putting myself in a vulnerable position? Hell to the no. The mere prospect made my skin crawl.Immediately no.
“Or this?”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
My body coils under the relentless blows. He isn’t holding back—and I fucking love it.
More than love.
It’s altering my fucking brain chemistry in a way that I never imagined.
Lenin’s beatings hurt—that’s it. But this?
All my blood is rushing south, turning my dick into a steel rod.
Fuck me sideways.
Marcus slides his hand from my nape to my hair, pullingme up with a fistful so that he’s staring down at me. “You like being hurt, sick boy?”
“You like hurting others,sick boy?”
