Page 48
Chapter 48 of "Tempting Venom" begins with suspenseful moments: Fucking hell.Iām not the type who gets horny easily. At all, actually. It takeslotsof sloppy... Donāt miss it!
Fucking hell.
Iām not the type who gets horny easily. At all, actually. It takeslotsof sloppy blowjobs to get me in the mood.
So why is the sound of Armstrongās voiceāand the feel of himāprovoking this carnal reaction?
āWhat the fuck are you doing here?ā He shoves himself away from my grip, and the sense of loss goes all the way down my body.
It doesnāt deflate my dick, but it does fill me with a sort ofā¦disappointment.
As Armstrong swings around, he punches me in the chest. I raise my fist and punch him back with the same strength he used. Nothing more, nothing less.
Itās a reflex of sorts. At an early age, I learned to always give back what Iām given. Though I usually make sure itās ten times worse.
Obviously, not today.
Hmm.
I wonder why.
āHow did you even get here?ā he asks in a clipped tone. Coupled with his blood-drenched face and the absence of light, he looks so gorgeously feral.
āItās a secret.ā
āDoesnāt matter anyway. You obviously came here to die, and Iām happy to oblige.ā
āNot really?āā
He tosses the knife aside and punches me again. Then weāre trading blows in the middle of the pitch-black forestāone for one.
The harder he goes, the more I match him.
And that pisses him off, judging by his choppy breaths echoing in the night.
He doesnāt like being challenged. Or maybe heās not used to someone meeting him strike for strike.
āYou areāā He hits me several times, most of it glancing off the mask and my skull. āāa fucking asshole who needs to fucking die! Donāt ever touch me again, you goddamn gay!ā
He grabs my shoulders and drives a knee into my stomach. My breath is knocked out of me, but I shove him back, slamming him against a tree. I seize his collar and haul him upward as I slam my fist into his face.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
āYou think thatās an insult, Armstrong?āPunch. āIs that why you used it?āPunch.āYou really believe calling me a slur makes you more powerful than me?ā
Iām hitting him over and over again, that awkward-strange attraction vanishing in minutes.
But then I realize two things.
One, heās trembling. So much so that his entire body quakes with it.
Two, heās not punching me back.
Iām towering over him as he slumps against the tree, holding him with one hand and punching him with the other.
At this point, I wouldāve expected him to shove me away, hit back, or try to overpower me.