Page 31 of Venomous Desires

“Take off my trousers,” I commanded after subsiding my instincts.

She fidgeted again. Defiance danced on her tongue, but one look at me, and she was back to being a bird without wings.

I let her hands drift to my waist, and she hooked her trembling thumbs into the waistband of my trousers. Fuck. She lowered it, and my cock sprung free, standing erect against my stomach. This idiot had no business causing me pain, knowing full well we weren’t getting laid for the next few days.

Curiosity gnawed at me, wondering what expression she wore behind her hair. Unconsciously, I found myself stepping out of my trousers. When she finally raised her head, her eyes were closed.

To my surprise, my dick throbbed painfully at her ignorance, and I rolled my eyes. A man was stripping in front of her, and she didn’t even want to look. I half-expected her to start crying. I was torn between laughing and wondering if I should force her down her knees and make her stare at my cock and remember every single detail for the next hour or so.

“You can get in, sir.” Her cheeks burned as her eyes stayed on my face.

I knew red was my favourite.

The fire that burned her cheeks and eyes was definitely I’d kill to see, hardened my dick further.

I get into the tub, leaving her sighing in frustration. The water was too hot for my taste, but I managed to drape my arms over the rim and spread my legs until my feet brushed the other end. My???still hard and she was not helping. A twisted pleasure that kept my darker urges at bay. For now.

“Massage my shoulders.” A smile twitched on my lips at herreaction. Her doe-like eyes stared at me as I just asked her to strip and get into the bath with me, though the thought was tempting. But sometimes she looked at me as if she couldn’t understand me, as if she wanted to peel back my skin and see the monster I was inside. Just the way I want to do to her.

Her reactions were adorable. Still annoying, yet somewhat tolerable.

Her soft hands rubbed my back gently, sacred if she put more pressure I’d break. Not that I was psychotic. Or was I?

Oh Ptichka, you have no idea what I’m made of.

It took her a while to lather the soap on my back with her small hands. I let my head fall back on the rim of the tub and stared at her. Her hair fell over her sides, long silky strands making me wish to fist them as I ram my —dammit, what was wrong with me? I couldn’t have finally lost a screw or two like my mother say because there was no way I was lusting after this unnamed, dirt-on-my-shoes low-life. But... what was holding me back?

I narrowed my eyes as she bent down, slightly hovering over my face. She was close. Closer than the air I was breathing. Close enough to wrap my hand around that slender neck and snap it. It wouldn’t hurt if I took a bite. Just one taste, a small lick. The thought of her flesh against my teeth, her breath catching in fear. My dick surprised me as it stood tall, begging for attention.

I grinned. Fuck. She should never have planted herself in my path. She should never have striven for my attention. Because she had just succeeded. And the more I thought of the way I could play with her, the more excited my cock was getting.

“Lower,” I muttered through an amused grin, and she looked at me, her eyes still not holding mine, and my grin widened. She blushed, letting her hands lower to run them gently through my abdomen, and I bit my lips and held back a groan as her hair fell over my face. Soft and fragrant.

“Name your price,” I asked, playing with the strand.

Her movements stopped. “What-what do you mean?”

I dragged her hair to my nose and sniffed. Fuck. Too sweet. Too tempting. When I opened my eyes and looked at her, she flinched at the intensity. Tilting my head, I rubbed my thumb on her lower lip, biting mine in the process. “Your mouth.” I paused, enjoying the feel of softness against my thumb, then locked my gaze with hers. “Around my cock.”

Chapter 11

The Prey

When I was thirteen, my mother taught me a thing or two about society. At that time, it was just blabbering of hers and nothing more than that.

Stay away from trouble.

Do not bring boys home.

No late night outs.

Never associate yourself with people who view you as nothing more than just dust on their shoes.

The first three I could understand.

The man in front of me viewed me as nothing more than just dust under his shoes. Maybe I looked easy to him. Desperate for money, he thought I would sell my dignity for his pleasure. I had been called worse in my life- Cheater, teacher’s pet, desperate, poor, fat — but never a prostitute.

Anger simmered like hot lava. “I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression, sir. But I have to refuse.” Defiance shone bright in my eyes.