Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she tells me.
I pause, the spell starting to break. “Don’t say that.” I tip her chin down
and force her eyes to me. “Say you hate me. Tell me to stop.”
“But I…”
“Say it.” I nudge her back against the door and hover over her. “Call me
swamp trash and tell me to stop.”
I dive into her neck as she stutters and tries to find the words that will
please me, but she’s confused.
“Say it.” I grab the back of her neck, squeezing my eyes shut and rubbing
her through her panties.
“Stop,” she gasps. “I hate you, you fucking trash. I hate you.”
I find her clit through the fabric, rubbing circles and hearing her moan
again as she opens her legs wider.
“Yeah?” I lick her mouth. “But you’re so wet. You don’t want this?”
And I slip my finger inside, caressing her bare skin.
She gasps.
“Or this?” I taunt, sliding another one in.
“Stop.” She kisses me back, breathing hard. “Ah, stop. No.”
Mmm, no.
And all the while I’m trembling as she grabs for me and holds me close
and wants me in our secret place where no one can see us, because I want it
to be real, too. I want Clay Collins in this fucking car and to love me so much
she can’t stand it.
Just so I won’t be alone anymore.
That’s how pathetic I am. Fantasizing over a straight girl who believes I
deserve nothing good in this world, because I think hate-fucking her would
make me feel powerful. Because I don’t love her and I don’t like her, but I
feel something about her, and whatever it is, it’s strong, and I need it. I want
to throw her down and put my teeth on her and feel hers on me, but at the
end, make her come and kiss her mouth and let her finally know that there
was one nice memory of me.
Oh, yeah. There was one.
I start to shake, and I can’t catch my breath. I growl, pulling off Martelle
and sit back in the seat, not sure if I’m angry for using her, or disgusted that I
tried to make her play the role of someone who will never deserve me.
There’s no love here, but that didn’t matter, did it? The hate turned me
on. Jesus, I’m fucked up.