Page 42 of Venomous Throne

Soft pants filled the space as she pushed her hips forward.

I watched in fascination as she slid her fingers into the satin shorts. And then my blood turned hot.

This wasn’t a threat; there was no attack.

She’d woken from a dream and was now touching herself.

Fuck me—just imagining how wet that tight little pussy was sent me lurching forward. I pressed myself against the doorframe, hoping the wood and wall held under my weight.

My cock strained painfully against my pants, throbbing with each of her soft moans. I should leave—needed to leave—but my feet refused to obey. I was anchored to this spot, a voyeur to her most intimate moment. The privilege of watching burned nearly as hot as my desire.

Isabella’s hips writhed, her fingers working in rhythmic circles beneath the thin fabric. Her free hand slid up to cup her exposed breast, thumb brushing over the hardened peak. The sight was exquisite torture, each movement of her hands sending jolts of electricity through my body.

“Yes,” she whispered into the darkness, her voice thick with need.

I bit down on my tongue to stifle a groan. The pain wasn’t enough to distract from the ache between my legs. I tasted blood. My breath came in silent, ragged bursts as I watched her pace quicken. The sight made my balls tight and heavy.

“Yes, right there. Right there!” she cried out, stiffening.

My dick convulsed in my pants. I reached down to grasp it, feeling it pulse, right on the verge of release.

“Jaxon!” she whimpered. “Please!”

My name. My fucking name.

That single word made my balls explode. I came in my pants like some untried youth. But it was no less pleasurable.

It set something loose inside me. Something primal. Possessive.Destructive.How the hell did I walk away now? She’d dreamt of me. She’d awakened to touch herself to the idea of us together.

And yet, she didn’t have the first clue what kind of monster she’d summoned. I craved her with every fiber of my being, but to go to her, to involve her in my world, would be the ruin of us both. Especially if she knew what manner of work I was involved in. It made her life of organized crime look cozy, lacy, and dusty rose. She could never know the true reason I came to this city. If I stayed….

No, I’m not considering that!

I had to go. It was best for her.

Isabella, still breathing hard, tugged the comforter around her body, burrowing into the bed. I stood for a moment longer, torn between desire and reality.

With a silent curse, I backed away from the doorframe. The carpeted floor creaked under my weight, but Isabella’s breathing had already deepened, drifting back toward sleep. I had to leave. Now. Before I did something I couldn’t take back.

I will not cross that line.

My legs carried me down the stairs, my body moving on autopilot while my mind replayed her voice calling my name. That breathless plea echoed in my skull, a siren song pulling me back toward her bedroom. I gripped the banister hard enough to make the wood groan.

Outside, the hot night air hit my face like a slap. Stars glittered overhead, indifferent to my torment. I made it one block down the lonely street, her voice still ringing in my ears.Please,she had begged, not knowing the monster was listening, not knowing I would have given anything to answer that plea.

Chapter 18 – Isabella

The morning after my visit to my mother-in-law, I woke to the ringing of the phone. Groggy from a restless night’s sleep, and an even stranger nocturnal adventure, I pawed for the bleating device with red, hot cheeks.

That low burn still churned deep in my belly.

“Hello,” I garbled into the speaker.

“Marco’s dead.”

Franky’s words banished the sleep and heat.

I sat up straight. “Tell me everything.”