Beautiful Venom: A Dark Hockey Romance (Vipers Book 1)

I wait in the shadows.

I’m used to the shadows.

The shadows have been my friends since the systematic destruction of my childhood.

It’s what made me who I am.

That’s probably also the reason I have deviant tastes and a thirst for sexual violence.

Which is why I’ve kept it under wraps.

Being celibate for months on end was easier than indulging in mind-numbing, soul-crushing vanilla fucking.

Trying to restrain myself was a painstaking task I preferred not to undergo. What the girls meant by ‘harder’ misaligned with my understanding of the word.

They meant deeper in a way that heightened their pleasure but didn’t hurt them.

While for me, my flavor of sexual deviance was complete fucking control with a touch of pain.

A dash of sadism.

A sprinkle of tears.

It truly turns me on to see the woman I’m fucking enjoying the pain as much as the pleasure.

Dahlia is the only girl who takes my raw, depraved sexual dominance. And the best part? She gets off on it.

She comes harder when the pain and pleasure blend together until she can’t breathe.

The only hiccup is that she’s also terrified of it. I saw it in her eyes earlier today when I invited her over.

There was fear.

But there was also a tinge of anticipation—I’m counting on that part to bring her to my door.

The room is draped in thick, still silence as I lean against the wall. The town’s lowlights slice through the darkness in jagged lines, catching the edge of the glass but never reaching me.

My pulse is steady, but underneath it, there’s something darker, coiled tight, ready to snap. My index finger twitches and I force it back to stillness.

I’ve never been eager.

Never coveted something enough to break my rules for it.

I’ve even erased any semblance of emotion.

And yet I can’t control the flexing of my muscles or the blood rushing to my groin.

I’m hard just thinking about what I’ll do to her.

How I’ll trap her.

Consume her.

Leave her no way out.

Deep inside, I know I shouldn’t get involved any further with Dahlia Thorne, but fuck if my dick can understand logic. He’s been restrained for months on end, and now that I’ve stumbled onto his favorite flavor, there’s no stopping him.

The door clicks open.

I stand to my full height but don’t change position.

She came.

A part of me thought she’d ghost me and shun this unorthodox agreement. But I should’ve known.

Dahlia’s animal is a mirror of mine.

I can smell her before seeing her. The softest scent of jasmine carries in the air and seeps into my nostrils.

“Hello?”

I remain one with the shadows, my breathing muted and my presence concealed, but my attention is zoned in on the merest stutter in her breath, the pause in her steps, and each rustle of her clothes.

“Kane?” Her voice is slightly spooked, on edge, and has a faint tremor she’s trying hard to conceal. “This isn’t funny.”

I smile to myself.

That’s it. Come closer, my little prey.

“Where the hell are the lights in this place?” she grumbles, her shoes shuffling on the floor.

Concealed.

They usually go on automatically, but I disabled that option, so unless I turn them back on, we’re bathed in my natural habitat.

Darkness.

The city lights flash outside, but it’s all static—meaningless. The real storm is sharpening and coiling inside me.

Dahlia’s feet come to a halt a short distance away as if she can feel my presence.

“Kane?” Her low whisper is heightened by the brutal silence.

“I’ll count to three and then I’ll chase you,” I speak in a deep voice.

“What happened to hello?” she asks in a bravado tone, but she’s already shuffling backward. “Can’t you do normal for once, asshole?”

“You don’t like normal, wildflower. It bores you to tears. One.”

A swallow—or, more accurately, a gulp—echoes in the air as she searches the darkness. When she speaks, there’s a tense energy in her voice, caught between dread and anticipation. “What will you do when you catch me?”

“I’ll fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk. I’ll own every inch of you, and your cunt will remember my cock for days. Two.”

“Oh God.” A few more frantic steps. “Wait. Let me mentally prepare myself. Count to ten⁠—”

“Your time is up. Three.”

She shrieks as I pounce from my hiding space. Her eyes widen for the briefest second, the light from outside breaking and highlighting those hazel gates of my nightmarish chaos.

It’s only a moment in time, but she’s smart enough to realize being immobile is the surest way to end up beneath my claws. Dahlia sprints in the opposite direction, mindlessly hitting the edge of the sofa and cursing.

That doesn’t stop her, though. She’s a fighter, my wildflower, and a cunning survivor, and soon picks up her speed.

My pace is steady and slow as I toy with her, reveling in her every frenzied move, every agitated breath expelling from her lungs.

The scent of her smothers me. The sound of her fear-laced gasps makes my cock twitch and tent against my pants.

She rushes to the kitchen area, her shadow large and magnified on the opposite wall.

Then all movements disappear.

Even her breaths slow to low muffles.

Hmm. She must be blocking her mouth with her hands.

I’ve always loved how her brain works under pressure. She has A+ survival instinct.

Unfortunately for her, I also have the most acute inborn predatory sense.

The fridge door opens, its light illuminating the space in a soft hue as a few kitchen stools get rummaged around.

“Given up already?” I round the kitchen counter and make my way to the fridge. “Didn’t take you for a quitter.”

Her breaths slow down further and her presence dwindles until it’s almost nonexistent.

Almost.

I stop by the island. “I can smell you, Dahlia.”

Instead of going to the fridge area, where she placed the perfect decoy, I tilt my head down to where she crammed her body between the stools and right beneath the island.

Both her hands cover her mouth and nose, and she’s so still, someone would mistake her for a statue.

I let my lips pull in a sadistic grin. “Found you.”

Her yelp reverberates in the air as she scrambles, knocking the stools over on her way out.

But my prey is trapped between my claws already. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Dahlia doesn’t make it three steps before I grab her by the ponytail and pull her back so hard, her shriek pierces my ears.

With one swipe, I knock away the counter’s contents, pans and glass cluttering and crashing on the floor, then shove her against it. With her chest on the marble and her ass in the air, she looks like my favorite prey.

I lean over so my mouth hovers close to her ear. “You can scream all you want. No one will hear you and it’ll only turn me on.”

“Fuck you!’

“Patience. I’ll get to that in a bit.” With a groan, I roll my hips and thrust my pelvis against her round, full ass.

The urge to own this hole that no one has touched before me lurks in my bones and overflows my nerves.

A growl spills from deep in her throat and she bucks against me, trying to twist, so I unbutton her jeans, then grab the waistband and pull them down in one go.

She’s about to fight, but I slap her pussy. Her bare fucking wet pussy.

Because Dahlia isn’t wearing any underwear.

“If I’m disgusting, what does that make you?” I sink my fingers into her inviting folds. “Not only did you come prepared to be fucked, but you’re also soaking wet for me. Can’t wait to be used as my cumhole?”

I slap her ass a few consecutive times, reveling in the way it reddens.

She cries out, going still, so I do it again and again, until my handprints mark her tanned skin.

Then I part her ass and she stiffens.

“What are you doing⁠—”

Her words end in a gasp when I thrust two of my fingers inside her mouth. “Suck. Make them nice and wet.”

Dahlia’s hot tongue wraps around my fingers and she lathers them with saliva. I stand with my legs shoulder width apart, my hardening cock brushing against her bruised ass.

Each of her licks make the tent in my pants grow bigger and thicker. The sounds of her licking mix with the fridge’s beep, beep, beep.

With a grunt, I pull my fingers from her mouth and slide them between her ass cheeks, probing her back hole.

“Kane, no! Not there.”

“Shh. I’m not asking for permission.”

“No…fuck…” Her cheek lies flat on the island as I thrust my finger inside her tight hole.

“Mmm. This will be mine soon. You’ll let me use this ass as I see fit, won’t you?”

“No…stop…that hurts⁠—”

I tighten my grip on her nape and whisper near her ear as I thrust inside her tight channel, “You know how to stop it, but you won’t, you know why? Because you enjoy the pain as much as the pleasure like a dirty little whore.”

“Fuck you…” The words spill out of her in a huff.

“As you wish.” I stand up and force a second finger in and she shrieks, but her walls stretch around me, trying to accommodate me. “That’s it. You need to fit my fingers so you can take my cock.”

Her broken breaths echo in the air as I pump my hand in, enjoying the view of my handprints on her ass and the way she writhes, trying to take me in as much as possible. Her pelvis slams against the edge of the island with each back-and-forth.

She’s trying to get off.

Not so soon.

I release her hair and pull my fingers from inside her.

Dahlia faces me, her cheeks crimson red and her lips trembling. Then this beautiful fucked-up hellion glares at me and slaps me across the face. “Don’t touch me, you disgusting prick.”

I laugh, the sound echoing around us like a dark tune.

She knows I’ll slap her back. She does, and she still did it anyway.

I lift a hand and she tightens her body, ready for the hit, but I imprison her jaw, studying her expression under the fridge’s soft light.

She tries to shove me away, and I rub my clothed cock against her thighs, making sure not to offer her any form of friction. “Fight me, wildflower. You know it makes me fucking hard.”

Guttural sounds leave her lungs as she steps on my foot and punches me in the stomach. As hard as she can, packing all her strength into it, only to be met by my tightening muscles.

“Such a vicious little minx.” I leisurely unbutton my jeans and free my hard cock. “You seem mad, but I don’t feel it.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” She punches, bites, and even pulls my hair, pouring all her energy into trying to hurt me.

She sinks her tiny claws beneath my shirt and scratches my skin.

Dahlia doesn’t stop even as I grab her hips and lift her off the floor, her feet kicking in the air and her arms flailing around. I set her on the counter and yank off her jeans, her sneakers flying away in the process.

“Is that all you got?” I fist her hair and strain her face up, smiling. “I thought you hated me more than this.”

She opens her mouth and I spit right inside it.

Dahlia freezes, a red hue covering her cheeks, but she swallows.

Her fingers sink into my hair as she bites my lower lip. The skin stretches and breaks beneath her teeth, but the sting barely registers as she thrusts her tongue against mine.

A cord snaps within me.

I devour her, biting down on her lip, blending our blood in a symphony of violent desire.

“Fuck me like you hate me,” she murmurs, panting against my mouth.

“Careful,” I whisper back. “You might not be able to walk for a week.”

My little wildflower licks my bottom lip, then sucks it between hers before releasing it. “Promises, promises.”

“I’m going to use you like a filthy little slut.” My fingers tighten on her hip as I thrust into her with so much power, she bucks off the counter.

Her moan echoes in the air, and she holds on to the sides of my shirt for dear life.

With her head thrown back, her slick neck shines with sweat beneath the dim lighting. So I lower my head and bite her pulse point.

Her taste explodes on my tongue like my favorite meal, and I sink my teeth in, sucking deep, matching the power of my fucking.

“Oh God, yes…yes…” She opens her legs wide, giving me more access as her hand slips beneath my shirt, clawing at my back.

Clawing is fine.

I can handle her kitten-like scratches.

As long as she’s not stroking or doing any of the disgusting sentimental shit she attempted the other time.

“You like being fucked like an animal, don’t you?” I pull all the way back, then thrust in again. “You like being used to get me off?”

She screams, her body shaking around mine. “Shut up…just go harder…”

“Such a greedy whore.”

I rise to my full height and push her back against the counter, then pull her shirt and slide the bra up, exposing her perky breasts.

At this angle, I plunge deeper, sinking into her with raw strength.

Dahlia tries to meet my thrusts, but she can’t, so she scratches me anywhere she can reach—my arms, my back, my stomach.

Her moans are raspy and throaty, her cunt stretching and swallowing my cock like it was made for me.

Dahlia was made for me.

Her body is mine.

Her moans are mine.

Even her violence is fucking mine.

I clench her shirt and it tears under my grip, so I wrap my hand around her throat and feel her swallows, the vibration of her vocal cords with each moan.

“You love choking.” I incrementally tighten my grip. “Your pussy is strangling me.”

She glares at me as she scratches me, definitely breaking skin, and I laugh. “You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you…” Her words echo in a muffled moan.

“You act so tough, but you’re such a whore for my cock, wildflower.” I pull back and ram against her sensitive spot.

Her eyes roll back, and all words seem to flee her.

So I do it again.

“Come for me.” I release her hip and circle her clit. “Show me who owns you.”

Dahlia’s limbs jerk and I have to remember that I’m only using her for sex.

I have to remind myself that this isn’t going against my rules and losing control, this is only to fulfill a basic urge—sex.

But fuck if I can ignore how damn stunning she looks when she comes apart on my cock.

Her moans are throatier, her skin blushed and slick with sweat, and her cunt smothers my cock, milking me for an orgasm I’m always on the verge of having when around her.

And the worst part?

She’s now caressing me.

Her claws have retracted and she’s gliding her fingers along my back, my sides, stroking all the scars no one should get close to.

Fuck that.

Fuck Dahlia Thorne and her disturbing touch.

I release her clit and pull her arms from my waist, holding both her wrists in one hand as I pump into her.

Rage coils inside me until what’s left is a bestial, primitive need for dominance.

Dahlia’s eyes widen, her hands flexing in my grip.

I don’t know whether she’s turned on or terrified or both, but I don’t care.

She should’ve kept scratching me instead of touching me like we’re anything but this fucked-up coexistence.

I tighten my grip on her throat until her pussy clenches.

“Kane…” she strains. “Come…inside…me…”

“Fuck!”

I pull out at the last second and come all over her stomach and tits, my cum creating a sheen on her skin.

Fucking hell.

If she hadn’t said that, I would’ve filled her cunt with my cum and feasted on it.

I would’ve betrayed my second rule.

The first was no sex without a condom, which went down the drain the first time I fucked this infuriating woman.

And since then, I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of not feeling her walls stretching and contracting against my cock. So I promised myself that there would be no coming inside her.noveldrama

Ever.

But just now, I almost did.

If anything, I was looking forward to pumping her full of my cum.

Dahlia is a fucking thorn in my side and the one plot hole in my life I can’t seem to find a solution to.

I release her and step back, breathing harshly.

“Why…” She swallows, looking so fucking mine while lying on the counter naked with my cum covering her. “Why won’t you come inside me?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Why do you not like it when I touch you?”

“I said shut the fuck up, Dahlia.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t think being fuck buddies meant a lack of conversation. Give better instructions next time.”

I can’t kill her.

Grinding my teeth, I pull up my jeans and tuck myself in, then walk to the fridge that gave up on beeping and grab a water bottle, throwing it near her.

She doesn’t stir, but her droopy eyes follow my every move.

I retrieve my phone and enable the lights, then go to the guest bathroom, and draw a hot bath.

As the sound of the water fills the space, I check my phone.

I find a few unread texts in ‘The Vipers’ Den’ group chat. Obviously named by Preston.

Jude

The fuck you’ve been doing, Pres? Heard you fucked your stepmom’s friend?

Preston

Heard you picked up stalking as a side gig.

Jude

Fuck is wrong with you?

Preston

I thought we were highlighting what we’re doing lately?

Jude

Is this because you couldn’t handle Osborn yesterday?

Preston

Say that name in my presence again and I’ll stab you 🙂

Jude

Seriously? You missed open skate and started a small riot in the Armstrong household just because of last night? @Kane Davenport. We need to restrain the motherfucker before this escalates.

Preston

I have it under control. May rip you a new one if I see you, though, big man. Be on the lookout.

Jude

Me?

Preston

Next time, don’t start punching just because I got hit.

Jude

I ALWAYS do that. The fuck?

Me

It’s because Osborn said Preston is a dainty prince who can’t even defend himself. Made him look weak. It’s probably why he lost his mind and went for his throat.

Preston

*Kane added to the death list*

Jude

The provocateur is being provoked?

*Preston left the group chat*

I shake my head, slide my phone in my pocket, and place a bathrobe on the rack.

As I step into the hallway, my senses fill with Dahlia’s scent, and my dick twitches back to life.

Fuck. This is a problem.

“You can take a bath, then leave,” I say from the hallway.

No response.

I walk back to the kitchen. “You need help getting up…?”

My movements halt when I find her sleeping. On the counter. In the exact same position I left her.

Her chest rises and falls, and she releases soft snores.

I can’t help but stroke some damp strands from her forehead, revealing a serene face.

Fuck.

She’s beautiful.

And all mine.

As I carry her in my arms, I have a disturbing feeling that she’ll mess up my life in more ways than one.

That is, if that’s not already happening.