29. Venetia
T he air inside the taxi is thick with an unbreakable silence, punctuated only by the low hum of music from the radio. As we drive back to the private plane, West and I—strangely enough—don’t fight. We both stare out the window, watching the last traces of the city slip away before we reach the airport.
I’m torn between the urge to jump out of the car and run back to our hotel room and the desire to keep driving in silence. The first option feels absurd, almost laughable. Why would I want to stay? Why would I want to relive these memories that seem to fade too quickly?
I’m leaving this place more confused than ever. My thoughts buzz chaotically against my skull, each one wilder than the last. I never expected to feel… anything that West made me feel. As na?ve as it sounds, I know his feelings toward me are genuine. This psychopath is anything but a liar when it comes to matters of the heart. He possesses, and he takes good care of his possessions. I shouldn’t be attracted to this, yet how can I not be when it’s everything I’ve ever wanted?
Arriving here felt like a nightmare. Now, as we leave, it feels like everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and I don’t want it to end.
Fuck my brain for never being able to make up its mind.
Just then, my phone lights up with a message from my father, and any warm thoughts I had a second ago vanish in an instant. I already feel nauseous at the thought of returning to the home I despise and reporting to him like a programmed robot. I’ll have to answer his stupid questions, providing a detailed account of whether I’m being a good thing to use.
I’ve always been a pawn in other people’s hands—a jellyfish without a voice. After a brief moment of experiencing something good, I can’t allow myself to feel more of it.
A touch on my hand pulls me from my swirling thoughts. I blink to clear the haze from my vision and look down. My hand trembles in his grasp—the one where the skin around my nails is already raw from the pressure. Without even realizing it, I started hurting myself again.
I look up at West, but his gaze is turned toward the window, intentionally avoiding eye contact as he holds my hand in silence while we drive.
And honestly? I prefer it this way.
“How long until we land?” I ask drowsily, tilting my head from side to side and relishing the satisfying crack of my muscles. West is completely detached, focused on his laptop as if I don’t exist. Since we boarded the plane, he’s immersed himself in work, showing no signs of stopping—even for a coffee break.
What kind of monster doesn’t allow himself a quick coffee break?
“You can ask that question a couple hundred more times, and you’ll still get the same answer,” he replies bluntly, never bothering to look up. I lean to the side, catching a glimpse of the endless text reflected in his glasses.
He looks good in them. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing a sweatshirt and sweats, his hair a tangled mess. He carries an easygoing demeanor, giving off a carefree energy that conceals his true nature as a fucking psychopath.
“I’m bored,” I say, desperately seeking his attention like a needy child.
“And you think that’s my problem?” he asks nonchalantly. “We have a TV. Go watch a movie.”
“Alone?”
His large hand tightens with blue veins as he keeps typing, never bothering to glance in my direction. “Yes, Venetia. Alone . I have work to do.”
I’m so tired of this hot-and-cold game. One moment he’s obsessed with me, and the next, he’s back to being an asshole. It frustrates me. I’m not just some toy he can discard whenever he’s busy. I’m soon to be his wife, after all. I deserve better.
A memory flashes through my mind—the night he returned to the hotel room after killing Elijah. He toyed with me for what felt like hours, and the words he said still linger.
‘You don’t have the privilege of having me in your mouth yet.’
Who even says something like that? It’s fucking absurd. As if I need to earn it.
West needs to be taught a lesson. He’s used to everyone catering to his every whim. I remember all those women who would’ve done anything for a chance to be his, all dancing around him. I don’t need his permission to pursue what I want, and right now, I want his full attention because I fucking deserve it.
Scooting down to the floor, I drop to my knees and crawl toward him. I place my hands on his knees, making myself comfortable between his legs, and finally—fucking finally—he looks down at me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he grumbles, shifting his laptop aside but not setting it down. “Venetia?—”
Without answering, I let my hand travel up, cutting him off. He inhales sharply as I grab him, squeezing just enough to earn a choked groan from his chest. “I said I’m bored,” I drawl lazily, inching my face closer. “And you have something that might help me.”
His brows arch in surprise before his face shifts into an arrogant smirk. “I’m not your toy,” he retorts, amusement lacing his voice.
“Not a toy,” I reply, rubbing my cheek against him, feeling the twitch beneath the annoying layer of fabric. I look up, catching the growing desire in his eyes. “My future husband.”
The muscle in his jaw tightens as he battles against something we both crave, acting like the stubborn prick he is. After a moment of locked gazes, he finally raises his head and sets the damn laptop aside. “Mike, get the fuck out of here,” he commands the guard, a slight tremor rippling through his voice.
I don’t wait for Mike to leave or for the door to close behind him as I slide down his sweatpants and underwear, my eyes drinking in a sight that still feels surreal. My gaze follows the veins along his length before moving back to the tip, where glistening pre-cum awaits. Mouth watering, I stare, desire pooling in my lower stomach and gradually overpowering any rational thought.
He opens his mouth, probably to say something that will infuriate me, but I refuse to let him succeed. Without hesitation, I open my mouth wide, sliding him across my tongue before wrapping my lips around him. I hollow my cheeks, attempting to take him as deep as I can, but it’s been a long time since I did this, and he has the longest dick I’ve ever seen. I know it’ll take some time to achieve what I want.
His hand runs through my hair, gripping a handful of strands in an attempt to pull me back, but I fight against his hold, swallowing him deeper instead.
“Fuck, fuck, Netia, slow down,” he chokes out, his hand both guiding me deeper and trying to pull me back, as if he can’t decide what he wants. “It’s been a long fucking time since this, slow the fuck down.”
Confusion washes over me as I comply, gradually releasing him from my mouth while keeping my eyes locked on his. I search for a trace of the arrogance he displayed just moments ago, but it’s vanished completely.
“A long time, you say?” I ask in disbelief. “I thought you were having a lot of fun with your whores. Are you telling me they never did this?”
He laughs as he covers his eyes with his hand, the soft light reflecting off the golden rings on his fingers. “My whores, huh?” he teases, his voice breathy but now carrying a hint of menace. “Didn’t know you were watching me.”
An angry scowl spreads across my face as I make a weak attempt to rise, but his grip on my hair tightens, forcing me to stay on my knees. “I wasn’t watching you,” I retort through clenched teeth, renewed fury flashing in my eyes. “Everyone knew how much of a cool guy you were.” I let out a huff of laughter. “I wonder if?—”
A slight sting spreads across my cheek, the sudden slap cutting me off. It takes me a moment to realize the fucker just slapped me with his dick.
“Are you fucking?—”
Another slap, this time landing squarely on my lips.
“We can do this all day,” he says, adjusting his grip on my hair with one hand while repositioning himself with the other. His slick tip brushes against my lips as he pushes forward, forcing my mouth open. “Come on, baby girl. This is what you wanted. No turning back now.”
I make sure he sees the daggers in my eyes before I open my mouth and take him back in. My gaze stays locked on his while I suck him, tears blurring my vision from the effort. With each second, I take him deeper, the muscles in my throat already aching from the strain. But it’s a small price to pay for the look on West’s face. His eyes are half-closed as he watches me, a blend of all kinds of emotions flickering across his features.
“I haven’t had anyone in years.” I slow my pace, unsure if I heard him correctly. “You—” A deep, guttural moan tears from his throat as I carry on, filling me with a warm sense of satisfaction. “You loved to believe in the story you crafted. The last time I was with anyone before you came along was fucking years ago, Venetia.”
Fuck . I want to know more, to ask him why, to talk about this. But I can’t. The intensity of desire clouds my mind, feeding off the sight of him becoming weaker with every second. West, moaning and vulnerable, is a rare sight. I’m on my knees, but it’s him who’s crumbling before me.
I release him, gathering saliva on the tip of my tongue before pooling it right at the head of his cock, never breaking eye contact. His lips part as he watches me, and when I wrap my hand around his thickness and give him a gentle stroke, he whimpers.
Loud. So loud that Mike and the other guards outside could hear how I made him feel.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” he pleads, throwing his head back. The pleasure radiating from him is so genuine and intense that I can’t help but roll my eyes in delight. “You know how to make me feel good, don’t you? Keep stroking me while you suck my cock, baby.”
His hand in my hair guides me forward, and I have no choice but to obey. Though he’s deep in my mouth, I still can’t manage to take him completely, and that leaves room for my hand. I stroke him, squeezing and sucking, just like he wants me to. The sounds he makes serve as the ultimate praise for my efforts, and with each one, I melt further into the moment. My thighs clench together, and thankfully, he’s loud enough not to hear the slick sound that I make.
I’ve never been so turned on by giving a blowjob.
The throbbing in my pussy becomes nearly unbearable, urging me to quicken my pace. I want to chase my own high, and while I love doing this to him, I know that if I don’t please myself soon, I’m going to pass out.
“No, no,” he insists, forcing me to return to a measured pace. His hand is a steady anchor, holding me in place. “Slow, long strokes, my girl. Slow and long.”
A sound of protest tries to escape my mouth, muffled around his cock as I feel my euphoria gradually slipping away.
I hate him so much that I want to bite him.
The thought ignites a fierce fire within me, and without a second thought, I do exactly that. My teeth sink into his flesh, deep and hard, and the sound that erupts from his chest is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s a desperate, primal noise—something bordering on pathetic and miserable, born from a twisted kind of sadistic pleasure that sends a blend of ecstasy and pure terror through me.
“Fucking bitch,” he snarls, his teeth bared in pain, yet a look of satisfaction battles its way to the surface, revealing just how much he enjoyed it. “On your face. I’m going to come all over your fucking face for this.”
In his dreams, maybe. I refuse to let him ruin my makeup just to satisfy his sick desires. Ignoring him, I pick up my pace, using my hand to aid my mouth as I take him deeper, my tongue lapping at every salty drop he offers.
“No, no, no, no —” He tries to pull me back, tugging painfully at my strands, but I push through the discomfort, knowing he’s seconds away from exploding. “I said—I?—”
Before he can finish, he spills down my throat, flooding me faster than I can swallow. I cry out, feeling his thick release pooling past my lips and trailing down my chin, yet he still doesn’t seem finished.
Yeah, maybe that wasn’t my best idea. When after what feels like an eternity I pull back, I’m breathless, my heart pounding in my ears as I choke on his cum, feeling it threaten to come up my nose.
Too much. Just like the rest of him.
He grabs my jaw, yanking me toward him with enough force to elicit a weak whimper from me. “Show me,” he commands, and in the haze of my pleasure, I stick out my tongue, fully aware that I’m a mess inside and out. “Fuck, that’s a good girl. Let me lick that off you.”
Before I can process it, he leans in, his tongue lapping at his release, savoring every drop. Heat coils in my lower stomach, the ache intensifying to an unbearable level as he wraps his lips around my tongue and sucks it.
This… might just be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
When he tries to pull back, my mouth instinctively follows him because I’m too aroused to care about anything else. Holding me by my jaw, he spits in my mouth, and I welcome every single drop he offers, completely at his mercy.
“Swallow,” he orders, and I close my mouth, doing exactly what he told me. “That’s it.” He lets out a soft hum of approval, then captures my lips in a deep kiss, unleashing a swarm of butterflies in my chest and making my toes curl from the undeniable bliss.
“Come here,” he breathes, strong hands wrapping around my waist and effortlessly lifting me onto his lap. He kisses me again, and I can’t help but moan through the haze, trusting him with whatever he planned. “I gotta make you feel good now,” he says, and somehow, I find the strength to laugh.
I never would have thought West could be such a giver.
I wrap my hands around his neck as his fingers dive inside my pants before he finds my panties. “So wet,” he groans deliciously. “So perfect . Enjoyed sucking my cock, baby?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, and he sinks his teeth into my neck, the sting blending with pleasure as black spots flicker at the edges of my vision. Warmth spreads through my lower stomach, turning me into a helpless mess in his hands. I feel cherished, safe in his grip, as though I was created just for him. “ West ?—”
“I know, I know you want this,” he cuts in, twisting my clit between his fingers and giving it a sharp pinch. I cry out, moving closer to him as the ringing sound creeps in, signaling my approaching release. “Be a good girl and let me make you feel good, okay?”
I nod weakly, surrendering to what he offers. My head throws back as he continues biting my neck like he’s trying to consume me, his fingers teasing my most sensitive spot. I can’t control the sounds that escape me, nor can I stop the way they bleed into his name, turning into a litany of ecstasy when I finally come.
My scream is so loud that the plane trembles under its force, my body unraveling into a thousand pieces. He keeps praising me, his arms tight around my body as I ride the waves. My hands tighten around his neck as I push against him with all my strength, terrified to release him, knowing that once I do, we’ll return to hating each other. Right now, this is the last thing I want because, despite how much I loathe him, he is the only person in this world who has ever made me feel this good.
I don’t open my eyes as it ends, soaking in the last traces of tingling bliss around us. He doesn’t push me away; instead, his arms keep me close, his lips pressing softly against my head as his hands trace calming circles on my back. It’s fucking odd and a bit bewildering that he never rushes to release me when we’re done. We descend together, the bliss leaving us in sync, yet he always holds on, refusing to let me go as I hover on the edge of pulling back.
Gradually, the aftermath sets in, and I return to reality, realizing I’ll never regain what I’ve lost. A tiny shred of the hatred I held for this man has been stripped away.
Along with my dignity.