Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

though. I think you woke up the entire eastern seaboard.”
Amy snorts, and Krisjen makes some mocking sound, grabbing her
hoodie off the bottom of the bed and pulling it on. “I’m a deep sleeper, too.”
“So, we all have to suffer?” I grumble.
Fingers find me under the covers, caressing me between my legs, and I
suck in a breath, slapping Liv’s hand away and glaring at her.
She grins that grin that always reminds me I’m not the one in control. Not
really.
“You’re so wet.” Her self-satisfied whisper is barely audible.
I can feel it. God, I’m far from satisfied. Now I’m pissed.
Krisjen sticks her feet into her Vans, loose hair frizzing around the messy
bun on top of her head as she takes her phone and wallet. She crosses her
arms over her chest and yawns again. “Going down to the Starbucks,” she
says, making her way to the door. “I want the shower when I get back.”
Liv slips her finger into her mouth, and I watch her as she wets it and
slides it back down under the covers, fingering my cunt.
I grab her hand, wanting to stop her, but she holds my eyes, and all I want
in the world is to climb on and finish her.
I hug the covers to my neck, my legs intertwining with hers in the dark
room, and I ball my fists to keep from reaching for her.
“You’re not getting away from me,” she mouths so softly only I can hear.
“Because as soon as the lights come on, you’ll be Bitchie Cunterson again
and clutch your pearls like I’m the one who’s corrupting you, and then you’ll
go sleep with the dick just to prove you don’t like this.”
I lick my lips, tasting the beads of sweat as she swirls circles, rubbing so
soft and gentle between my legs. My eyelids flutter.
“Cinnamon soy latte,” I gasp out to Krisjen. “Liv wants black.”
“A-ffirmative.”
Maybe if we give her a big enough order, she’ll take Amy with her.
But then Amy shouts out, “And a chai tea latte! One pump of vanilla, one
pump of hazelnut! And a croissant!”
“Jesus Christ,” Krisjen barks. “I’m not y’all’s damn waitress.”
The door slams shut as she leaves without Amy. I’m about to scream, but
then Amy hops out of bed. “I’m taking the shower first,” she says.
She walks past the bed, the lights still off, and disappears into the
bathroom. The light pops on and dims again when she closes the door.
I exhale. “That was close.”