Page 121 of Lovely Venom

A current of heat arcs between us, inevitably catching fire when the tension reaches a breaking point.

He pulls me to my feet, bends me over the mattress, and untethers one of the bracelets around my wrist. Binding them together, he stretches my arms behind my back and uses them for leverage as he buries his cock inside me.

He fucks me into the bed, hard, slow, and everything in between. I don’t think my poor body has ever taken as thorough a battering as it has these last two days. But I can’t find it in me to care when he fists a handful of my hair and growls his rough praise against my ear.

He tells me how good I feel, how goddamn infuriatingly pretty I am, and asks if I have any idea how hard my fucking pussy makes him come.

It floods me with an overwhelming rush of pleasure and sends me spiraling into one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.

He pushes me through two more, fucking me like he could do this all night—and I think he actually could. But when I nearly collapse from exhaustion, he takes mercy, lifts me into his arms, and finally fills me with his release.

I’m too boneless to move as I laze in the afterglow, and he waits for me to recover before he convinces me to let him clean me up.

After he carries me to the bathroom and washes me off, I gather enough strength to stand on my own. He gives me some privacy, and when I return, I find him stretched across my bed.

He waits patiently while I hover at the edge of the room, slowly coming to terms with this new level of intimacy.

I’ve never allowed any other man into this space, and it makes me feel…exposed.

Sensing my nerves, Cristian gestures for me. “Come here.”

I follow his directive because it means I don’t have to think about it, but when I climb onto the opposite side of the bed, he pats the space beside him.

“Here.”

“Why?” I ask hesitantly.

“Ten minutes, remember?”

“Are we doing that again?”

“You can end it when you want,” he reminds me.

After another moment of uncertainty, I inch closer and settle my head on his chest while he wraps his arm around me.

“You said that last time, and then we fell asleep together.”

“That’s because you never said you were done.” He combs his fingers through my hair, and my eyes flutter closed.

I never said I was done because it felt too good, just like this does right now.

I like the warmth of his solid body, and the slow sweep of his hand along the curve of my back. I like that I can hear the rhythm of his heartbeat, and that tomorrow, my pillows and sheets will smell like him.

But I shouldn’t get used to it, so I revert to what I know best.

“I think that’s good,” I tell him after a few minutes.

He nods silently, releasing me from his hold, and I scoot over, creating some distance between us. But as I lie there with my eyes closed, something restless settles over me.

I try shifting onto my side and hugging my extra pillow, but sleep doesn’t come. And when I roll back over and glance at his bare chest, I feel a longing I don’t want to admit.

I lie there for a while longer until I can’t take it anymore.

“I’m cold, and I can’t sleep,” I complain.

Cristian opens his eyes to look over at me. “Do you want another blanket?”

Of course he has to come up with a practical solution, which only annoys me more. I’m not even cold, but I don’t know how to ask for what I want without feeling weak.