8. Venetia
Venetia
“ O kay, you get on that. I need to go and change. Again. Your room is, where?”
“Four down from yours. It’s open.”
I nod and hesitate for a second before I cross over to him and grab him by his expensive shirt. Pulling him closer, I rise up on my tip toes and plant a kiss on his lips. He deepens it instantly, his hand fisting in my hair.
“You made me a promise,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I know. I haven’t forgotten. You made me a promise as well.”
He smiles slowly. “Oh, I definitely haven’t forgotten. Your display of nudity in the dining hall was just the beginning.”
I pull back, the taste of him still lingering on my tongue. “See that you don’t,” I murmur, my gaze flicking to Viper. His expression is unreadable, a mask of cold indifference.
Letting go of Blake’s shirt, I turn without another word and walk away, my bare feet silent on the cold stone floor.
I can feel their eyes on me, two distinct currents of possessive energy following my every move.
Blake’s is a cool, appreciative assessment, while Viper’s is a hot, burning brand on my back.
He falls into step beside me, matching his pace to suit mine for once in his fucking life. Usually, it’s me jogging to keep up with him.
We are silent as we walk to Blake’s room.
I count back from mine, and I push open the door, stepping inside.
His is a space of order and control. A king-sized bed, perfectly made.
A desk with a laptop and a single stack of papers.
Books lined up neatly, everywhere pristine and dust-free. Everything has its place.
Viper closes the door behind us.
I stand there, not moving, but he does the same.
I turn to him with a raised eyebrow. He is thoughtfully glowering at me, looking like he wants to say something but can’t.
“Cat got your tongue, Daddy .”
“Say it and mean it,” he growls suddenly, coming closer. “Say it in a way that makes me feel it. Not in the way you do, where you think it’s a form of control over me.”
His challenge hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. The air crackles with a tension so thick I could choke on it. He wants me to relinquish the one weapon I thought I had against him, to turn my taunt into a truth. He wants submission. Real, unadulterated submission.
A part of me, the part that has fought for every inch of control in my life, wants to spit in his face. But another, deeper part, the part that craves the solid, reassuring presence he offers, trembles with a terrifying need.
He takes another step, his body heat a furnace I can feel even from a foot away. His eyes are burning holes into me, demanding I make a choice.
So, I do.
My need for him to make me feel safe and loved wins out even though I know I’m giving up a part of myself to do it.
I drop to my knees, my gaze locked on his. I let him see the raw, desperate part of me that has been fighting this battle of fear alone for so long.
“Daddy,” I breathe, the word a raw whisper of surrender, a plea, a promise.
His breath hitches, a barely perceptible sound. A muscle in his jaw clenches, and his eyes darken to the colour of a stormy sea. His control snaps.
He steps forward, his large hand cupping the back of my head, fisting my hair.
His touch is firm and possessive, a claim staked and won.
I can feel the fine tremor in his fingers, the echo of the desperation coursing through me.
He tightens his grip, tilting my head back so I’m looking up at him.
His eyes search mine, looking for something—a truth, a promise.
I let him see it all. The fear, the need, the raw, aching want.
“Again,” he demands, his voice hoarse. “Tell me what you want.”
“Daddy,” I whisper, stronger this time, more sure. I am giving him this weapon, but at the same time, he is giving me something as well. He gives me safety and love, and from this, I feel that I will trust him to use what I give him control over to take care of me. “Take care of me. Please.”
The plea undoes him. He hauls me to my feet by my hair before his mouth crashes down on mine.
This kiss isn’t gentle or coaxing. It’s a brand, a searing promise of ownership.
His teeth nip at my lips, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to claim every corner of it.
I kiss him back just as fiercely, my hands gripping his tee, pulling him closer.
He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me as he walks me backwards until my back hits the wall.
His rock-hard body presses against mine, trapping me.
I can feel every inch of him, every hard plane and ridge.
His kiss deepens, his tongue exploring my mouth with a hungry, desperate need that sends a flood of heat straight to my pussy.
I moan into his mouth, my body melting against his as he takes control.
I give it up to him, and it feels so good giving in to what I really want.
He pulls back, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and possessive. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my flesh.
“I want you,” I whisper, picturing myself pleasing him with my mouth. My knees go weak just thinking about it, but I want it more than anything right now. “Please, Daddy. I need you.”
His grip tightens, his eyes never leaving mine. “Say it again.”
“Daddy, I need you,” I breathe. The submission is liberating to me, which throws me off guard, but it feels natural.
He steps back. “Good girl. On your knees.”
I drop and reach for his pants.
His hand covers mine, his grip firm, stopping my fingers before they can touch him.
I look up at him, lips parted, waiting. Every instinct screams at me to fight, to take what I want, but the look in his eyes pins me in place.
This is his game now. I’ve handed him the rules, and I’m desperate to see how he plays.
He undoes the button on his pants and then lowers the zip. He’s thick and hard, and I want him inside me more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
He cups my jaw, his thumb stroking my bottom lip. “Use your mouth,” he murmurs. “Show me how good my little girl can be.”
I lean forward. My gaze stays locked on his as my lips part and I take the head of his cock into my mouth. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and his hand tightens in my hair, but he doesn’t control me. He lets me set the pace.
My tongue traces the thick ridge before I take him deeper.
I suckle gently, teasing him, learning the feel of him, the taste of him.
His hips give a slight, involuntary buck.
His control is slipping, just a fraction, and the knowledge sends a jolt of power through me, even on my knees.
I am his to command, but my obedience is a weapon in itself.
He groans, the sound raw and torn from his throat. “Fuck, Venetia.”
Hearing him use my name instead of a pet name snaps me back into the moment. This is real. This is us. I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft, stroking him in time with the rhythm of my mouth. His body goes rigid, and his hand tightens in my hair.
“That’s it,” he rasps, his voice thick with a pleasure so intense it sounds like pain. “Don’t fucking stop.”
I don’t plan to. I’m going to make him come apart in my hands, in my mouth. I want to swallow every last drop of his surrender. It’s a claiming of my own, a silent vow sealed in the most intimate way possible. I increase my pace, grazing my teeth down his length, I suck him deeper.
“Your hot, little mouth is perfect,” he murmurs, leaning forward to slam his hand on the wall behind me. He takes over control, holding my head still and fucking my mouth roughly. “You’re sucking Daddy’s cock like such a good girl.”
My whimper is muffled, and I open wider, practically locking my jaw in the process, but I need him to keep praising me. I need him to keep wanting me.
He looks down at me, his eyes glazed with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful to witness. “That’s it. Open wide, baby girl. Take it all for Daddy.”
He pounds into my mouth a few more times and then withdraws abruptly, letting me go, so I pitch forwards.
He stashes his dick to my crushing disappointment.
“I’m not going to come in your mouth. I want to soak your cunt.
I want you dripping with me, making a mess of Blake’s bed.
I want you to give me a creampie that will lube up your arse so I can claim every hole you have.
You want that, wildcat?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends heat pooling between my thighs. “You want Daddy to make a mess of you?”
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “I want that.”
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine as he strips off his tee, revealing the expanse of tattooed muscle and skin that makes my mouth water. I reach for him, eager to touch, to explore, but he catches my wrists, his grip firm.
“No,” he says, his voice stern. “You don’t touch until I say you can.”
More than anything right now, I need him to take me over and take care of me. He pulls me to my feet and turns me around, unzipping the blood-spattered white dress. He pushes it off my shoulders, and it falls to the floor at my feet.
“Do you need a safe word?” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder.
I shake my head. “I don’t need one with you.”
He pauses before he turns me to face him. He cups my face gently. “That kind of trust is exquisite, Venetia.”
“You want control? You have to prove your worth to me first. Then I’ll give you my world to take care of. You’ve proven yourself. Viper.”
His eyes close briefly as I give him this gift, and he accepts it. But then his eyes snap open. “Nigel,” he says with a soft smile.
“Huh?”
“My name. It’s fucking Nigel.”
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Oh,” I croak.
He gives me a warning glare. “Do not laugh.”
“Who’s laughing?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, but it’s a losing battle. A snort escapes, then a giggle. “Nigel?”
Viper—Nigel—growls, a sound of pure exasperation mixed with amusement. “It’s not that fucking funny,” he grumbles, but his lips are twitching, giving away his struggle not to laugh with me.
“Oh, but it is,” I insist. “Nigel. It’s just so... proper. So very not you.”
“Keep going and I’ll spank you so hard, those laughs will turn to screams.” His grip on me tightens almost painfully as he pulls me against him again.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sobering up and not under the threat of him spanking me. He trusted me, and I threw that back in his face. I reach up to cup his face, but his hand closes around my wrist before I can touch him. “Can I say one last thing?”
“Watch your words, wildcat.”
“I can see why you changed it, but it wouldn’t matter to me either way.”
He inhales slowly. “I doubt that very much, Venetia, but thank you for saying it.”
He spins me abruptly, not letting go of my wrist, wrenching my arm back, not painfully, but not comfortably either. He walks me to the bed. “Bend over, little girl. Daddy needs to punish you.”
“What for?” I ask.
“For making my job so fucking hard. Do you know the fear I felt when that fucker had a knife to your throat?”
I try to pull away from him, to turn and face him, but his grip is iron. “I’m sorry,” I say, struggling against his hold. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He leans down, his breath hot on my ear. “Sorry isn’t good enough, little girl. You need to learn that today was the last day you will walk around this den of vipers unarmed.”
I gulp. I know he won’t truly hurt me, but the promise of punishment, of his firm hand on my bare flesh, has my heart pounding.
I stop struggling, and he releases my wrist. I lean over the bed, presenting myself to him.
He trails his fingers down my back, making me arch into his touch.
He steps back and roots through the wardrobe.
Then he returns. He grasps my wrist again and brings it behind my back.
He reaches for my other wrist and binds them together with, I think, one of Blake’s ties.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
The praise sends a flush of warmth through me before the first strike lands hard and fast on my left cheek, then the right one quickly follows. A surprised squeak escapes me even though I expect it. This is no tentative spanking, no gentle warm-up. This is Viper unleashed.
The next strike lands, a sharp crack of skin on skin. The impact resonates through me, heat blooming in its wake. I grit my teeth, determined not to make another sound, but Viper knows my body too well. He knows how to push me, how to draw out every sensation until I’m a quivering mess.
“Count them,” he demands, his voice a low growl behind me. “Let Daddy hear how good you’re being.”
I swallow hard, my voice steady despite the fire spreading across my arse. “Two.”
Another strike, this one harder.
“Three,” I mutter, wondering how many he is going to land on me.
Viper pauses, his large hand rubbing gentle circles over my burning flesh.
“I can’t hear you, little girl,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soft. “Do you want to rethink that safe word?”
“Never,” I growl. “Three.”
Another spank comes hard on top of the one before it, and I gasp out “Four.” If he wants me to count them all fucking out loud, then so be it.