Page 292 of Darling Venom
I’d been with other guys in the past, and they’d never made me come. Inexperienced teenagers, fumbling to clumsy completion compared to the sheer masculinity Reed fucked me with.
Maybe having feelings changed sex. A part of me considered that he felt better because I was in love with him and I’d never been in love with any other boys, but I dismissed the notion. The way Reed slid inside me, the way his hands explored my body, the way he knew exactly what angle to push into me… It couldn’t be my head making it up. We fit perfectly.
We settled into silence as I came down from bliss. Reed’s hand rested on my thigh, his fingers brushing the crease where my thigh and lips met until goosebumps lined my arms. I didn’t dare move, refusing to be the one that interrupted this.
Chaos ran laps around my body. I needed to figure out what this meant. Still a little hard, Reed pressed deeper inside me as he reached for the lamp on the nightstand, his breathing a ragged exertion I felt against my skin.
I blinked away the post-orgasm haze as the light flickered on. When my sight cleared and I finally got a look at him, I froze. Shock bulldozed into my body, nearly pushing me back had I not been gripping his flesh.
Black spots scattered across my vision, and for a second, I thought I’d faint—and it would still be less mortifying than this.
Anything would be less mortifying than this.
It was almost too much to process.
To make it worse, he was still inside me.
This wasn’t Reed Prescott.
This was a six-foot-two, hazel-eyed Adonis with short black hair and bedroom eyes that made you picture him naked if you looked long enough. Only he was actually naked and, I repeat, still. Inside. Me.
Nash Prescott.
Reed’s older brother.
His nearly thirty-year-old brother.
Emery
“You’re soaking my brother’s bed,” Nash remarked as he leaned back against his pillow and took in the sight of me. He looked annoyed, liked I was a pest who had royally fucked up his weekend plans.
“You—I—What—” I floundered, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.
You slept with Nash Prescott.
Nash Fucking Prescott.
And it felt amazing.
Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.
I was totally freaking out.
Nash raked his fingers through his hair, leaned over to snatch my robe, and tossed it to me. “Just fucking relax, would you? You’d think the goddamn orgasm would loosen you up.”
For a split second, all I could think was, you weren’t always like this.
Perhaps to other girls, but never to me.
Nash was a fierce protector, the guy who would stop by my table with his brown paper lunch bag when my mom ‘forgot’ to give me lunch money. And while we’d rarely talked, even when he would share his lunch, I always took comfort in knowing I had two protectors—Reed and Nash.
Something flipped the night of the cotillion. And after cops almost arrested Reed, the rift between him and Nash became unnavigable. They barely spoke. If they did, it was with a cordiality that reminded me of my relationship with Mother.
My heart wept for Betty, who tried desperately to mend things. Surprise parties. Homemade dinners. Family outings they couldn’t afford with a son going off to college and one fresh out of grad school.
Reed placed all his focus on Basil, football, and school. And Nash? He became a different Nash around us. One who lived up to his reputation. Gorgeous. Arrogant. Insufferable. Whenever he visited, he’d spend the weekend fucking every bored twenty-something housewife in Eastridge.
I don’t recognize you anymore.
