Sweetest Venom Read online

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Preface

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Sweetest Venom

  Published by Mia Asher

  Copyright © 2016 by Mia Asher

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editor: Jennifer Roberts-Hall

  Cover Designer: Regina Wamba, Mae I Design

  Interior Designer: Kassi Snider, Formatting by Kassi Jean

  Proofreader: Ryn Hughes

  REVENGE.

  What an intoxicating thing…

  AS WE LOOK AT EACH OTHER silently, sadness fills me from within, sorrow gripping my heart with its sharp nails. A gut feeling tells me that this is the last time we’ll see one another, and I’m not ready for that.

  A knot forms in my stomach. “So is this good-bye?”

  He stares at me and, without a word, I already know the answer. I can see it in his eyes.

  Ronan

  “WHERE ARE YOU GOING, BABY?”

  I’m looking for my underwear when I hear Ana speak. I turn to look at her, half naked on her bed. She’s all hair, perky tits, and no brains. “I gotta go. My boss’ assistant just called to let me know that I need to pick him up in Midtown in an hour. I’ll call you, ‘kay?” As I stare at Ana with her blue eyes and swollen lips from having sucked my dick, I hate myself even more because I can’t stop myself from wishing she were Blaire.

  “But why? You told me you were free for the day.”

  I hate this shit. I run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, sorry about that, but the other driver had a family emergency.”

  She huffs, crossing her arms. “There’s always an excuse with you, Ronan.”

  “Ana, we spoke about this. I thought we were clear. We’re having fun.”

  “You’re still not over that girl I saw you with at that bar, are you?” She frowns. “The one who looked like she thought she was above us all.”

  “Let it go, Ana,” I warn her.

  “I knew you two didn’t belong together the moment I saw her. You’re too good for a bitch like that.”

  I walk toward the bed, lean down and kiss her aggressively, my mouth fucking hers. Ana responds instantly, deepening the kiss, and for a moment I forget that this woman who looks exactly like Blaire isn’t her. I kiss her as though she’s the woman who is everything and nothing to me—the woman I can’t forget.

  With the kiss coming to an end, I brush her black hair out of the way and then grab her chin between my fingers, lifting it and forcing her to look at me. I know my hold is growing painful because she winces in pain.

  “If you ever speak of her like that again, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Good-bye, Ana.” I let go of her face and watch her fall backward on the bed.

  “Wait, Ronan, don’t go! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  I finish getting dressed in my usual black suit and walk out of her bedroom, never looking back. Riding the elevator, I lean on the wall and close my eyes momentarily, the anger and resentment I feel leaving me emotionally exhausted.

  I knew you two didn’t belong together the moment I saw her.

  Ana’s words haunt me. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I was just too blind to see it.

  Or maybe I created someone in my head that never existed in the first place.

  I wait for Lawrence to get in the Rolls Royce before I close the door behind me and make my way to the driver’s seat.

  “Where would you like to go, sir? Back to the office?” I ask, staring at him in the rearview mirror.

  He answers without raising his gaze, his eyes focused on a file that’s opened on his lap. “Actually, no. Take me to East 34th Street.”

  Shock courses through me as my mind registers his words. I clear my throat before I repeat the address, as if by doing so it will become a mistake. I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong. It can’t be.

  Lawrence looks up and our eyes connect. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  Stunned, I nod quietly as I tighten my hold on the steering wheel and watch my knuckles turn white. “You got it, sir.”

  As I’m driving away from the building where Lawrence spent most of the late afternoon in a meeting, I’m overpowered by such dread that it’s hard to focus on the road. My chest feels empty but heavy all at once, making it hard to breathe.

  Please, no.

  Don’t let it be her.

  Not her.

  But even as I try to fool myself by chanting that empty prayer in my head, I already know the truth. I can clearly hear her voice and her cutting words …

  “I fucked a man the entire night.”

  “And it wasn’t for love.”

  By the time I park outside her apartment building and watch Lawrence disappear inside, I’m completely numb even though logic tells me that it isn’t possible. My heart still beats in my hollow chest. Blood still flows in my veins. My lungs still breathe the air that once tasted like her, her essence long gone. But as I remember her last words to me there’s this darkness, this hatred, taking over, seducing me with its bitter freedom. Slowly…

  Surely…

  I can feel it. My heart once weakened by my love for her has finally grown quiet. I touch my chest and rub the spot where that useless organ should be. There’s nothing there anymore. I am free.

  Calm, I see her first.

  And as I watch her smile at Lawrence as she once smiled at me with that deceiving light in her eyes, I surrender myself willingly to darkness.

  Yes.

  I’m finally free.

  Blaire

  WATCHING ME WITH EYES that could potentially destroy me is the last man I hoped to ever see—the only man to have ever made me want more.

  “Blaire?” I hear Lawrence ask, making me realize that I’m standing in the middle of the street, blatantly staring at Ronan, who’s more glorious than I remembered.

  I close my eyes, take a calming breath, and turn to face Lawrence. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Is everything all right?” he says, curiosity ringing in his voice.

  “Yeah… I
thought I saw someone I knew, but I was wrong,” I lie.

  Lawrence nods as he places a hand on my lower back, his touch possessive and intimate, and propels me to walk toward the car. Toward the man who’s looking at me as though I killed his dog. When our gazes connect once more, my heart is pounding. I want to look away, yet a part of me wants to absorb every familiar detail of his features and carve them in my brain until they draw my blood. But what I see in his eyes, so full of hate, holds me hostage.

  When I’ve had enough, I look straight ahead at the cars passing by, the street lamps illuminating the night with their glow, and pretend not to know Ronan. I ignore the man whose kisses I can still taste, whose warm hands I can still feel caressing my skin, and whose words still echo in my head. I ignore him like I ignore the tightness in my chest. I ignore all emotion and listen to my head. As usual.

  I turn to look at Lawrence as he glances between Ronan and me. I push myself closer to him in an attempt to distract him.

  “About what you said before …” I place a hand on his hard chest, sparks shooting up my arm.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  I stop walking and stand on my tiptoes, not worrying that Ronan is watching us, and whisper against Lawrence’s mouth, “I want you, too.”

  He leans forward, grabs my hip possessively, and speaks in my ear, his lips grazing my neck. “Good.”

  Lawrence and I finish walking the short distance to the car and with mere inches separating Ronan from me, I get in without glancing his way. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice he is no longer watching me. Tears sting my eyes as I lift my chin and tell myself that I don’t care.

  Once Ronan is sitting behind the steering wheel, Lawrence places a hand on my thigh possessively before he orders, “To the townhouse, please.”

  And then it all happens at once. Ronan looks up as Lawrence pulls me in for a kiss, his fingers sliding under my skirt and settling between my legs. Ronan’s gaze follows Lawrence’s hand before locking with mine in the rearview mirror. Our eyes connected, he watches Lawrence claim my mouth with his demanding tongue. But when Lawrence deepens the kiss, cradling the back of my neck and pushing me harder against him, I can’t meet Ronan’s stare anymore. Shame corrodes my soul as Lawrence’s soiled touch awakens my body.

  Feeling Lawrence’s mouth on mine, I think of all the events that have brought me to this moment. I once yearned for love like everyone else, but it was the lack of love that made me realize that, by opening my heart to people, I was allowing them to weaken me. I was allowing them to take parts of me until all that was left was a girl with nothing else to give, with nothing inside of her but broken dreams. I was giving them the power to rule over my emotions and my thoughts. Every tear shed, every wish wished upon, and every smile that went unnoticed hardened me and made me who I am. I swore to God that I would never give anyone that power. That I would never let anyone get close enough to take another part of me.

  And that’s why I had to let Ronan go.

  He got too close. He made me feel too much. Ronan doesn’t only have the power to break me—he has the power to destroy me.

  So here I am, pressing my lips harder against Lawrence and opening my mouth wider for his tongue. I look away and disregard a pair of brown eyes that once looked at me as though I were everything good in this world.

  Yeah, pretending not to care takes skills, after all.

  The memory of his words whispers in my ear, trying to pull me back to him.

  Don’t you see it, Blaire? Don’t you get it? You’re in me. In everything I see. In everything I touch. You’re in the air I breathe, in the water I drink, and in every dream I dream.

  THE TRIP TO LAWRENCE’S TOWNHOUSE is a living, breathing nightmare. Everything becomes a haze of emotions and images where it all blends together. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Hate. Lust. Yearning. One big clusterfuck of my own doing.

  I might be sitting next to Lawrence but my mind is in the past, replaying the last time I saw Ronan over and over again.

  It isn’t until we’re standing inside his house, Ronan and the world left outside its doors, that I’m able to breathe freely for the first time. Without saying a word, I make my way toward the staircase. The sooner we’re in his room fucking, the sooner I’ll be able to freeze my treacherous heart currently thawing like an ice cap in spring once more. I place my hand on the wooden handlebar at the bottom of the stairs when I realize that Lawrence isn’t following me. I turn to look at him and notice that he’s standing by the front door, studying me closely. I smile at him, but even I know that it’s a pathetic excuse for a smile.

  He doesn’t smile back.

  “Why are you standing there and not here? Is something wrong?”

  As I await his answer, I take a moment to admire him, to absorb his wild yet polished beauty. Lawrence reminds me of an untamed animal, magnificent as the king of his domain with hunger in his eyes and graceful movements. He’s danger, inviting you to play with him as he taunts you with a tempting smile. And you know that you will be hurt for having done so, but you won’t be sorry—no, never sorry. He looks like a man who was born to rule and fuck.

  “Come here,” he orders in his commanding voice.

  Slowly, I walk to where he’s standing as my pulse accelerates. Without looking at me, he raises a hand and begins tracing my shoulder blade with the back of his fingers. “Tell me …”

  “Yes?” I close my eyes and tilt my head slightly to the side, exposing—offering—myself to him. When he reaches the length of my neck, he closes his hand around it, the pad of his thumb caressing the spot where he can feel my blood pulsing through me. And though the stroke of his finger is ever so gentle, a violent shiver runs down my spine, leaving me hot and cold all at once.

  “Do you happen to know Ronan?” Lawrence asks nonchalantly.

  Sharply, I open my eyes. His question freezes me on the spot, extinguishing the spark that was kindling inside of me a moment ago. Our gazes connect and I’m afraid of what he sees in mine. Afraid he will see how my heart yearns for a man who I can’t have—my summertime in autumn.

  Deep down, I know that my love for Ronan is a wound that won’t ever heal, but being with Lawrence lessens the pain. And isn’t numbness—a blessed oblivion—what we seek after love has done us wrong? Lawrence helps me forget him, dulling the ache with my inexhaustible want for him and his money. He’s my savior and foe. My sickness and cure, all at once.

  “Does it matter?” I ask, licking my dry lips. “I’m here.”

  In the silence that follows, tension running high, I wonder if Lawrence has figured out the truth behind my unspoken words. I don’t think Lawrence would care either way. He has made it more than clear what he wants from me, and my love isn’t it.

  And that’s perfectly fine with me.

  There’s something carnal in the way he’s staring at me that makes me feel as though I can’t breathe. I don’t want him to ever stop. My heart beats wildly and my pussy grows wet with anticipation as his gaze travels leisurely across my body. With his fingers wrapped around me like an ivy vine, it would be so easy for him to snap my neck in half. The contact is dangerously divine.

  “Be still,” he orders, his voice full of restrained power.

  Lawrence lets go of me, my skin burning from the ghost of his touch, and begins tracing the edge of the lace cup covering one of my breasts. The caress, soft as a lover’s whisper, hardens my nipples and raises goosebumps along my arms. Blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy, and I breathe deeply.

  I bite my lower lip when he hooks his finger around the cup, pushing the fabric aside, and watches my tit spill out, his green eyes growing midnight dark. Then he touches my nipple, rubbing the rosy tip and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It sends shockwaves of pleasure throughout me, focusing on the pulsing center of my body.

  I’m about to close my eyes, lost in sensation, when I hear him say, “Eyes on me, Blaire.”

  He grabs me roughly by the waist, closing th
e space between us, and wraps an arm around my middle. Holding me tight in his embrace, Lawrence moves his free hand under the skirt of my little black dress and impales me with two of his fingers.

  There’s pain laced with pleasure as he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy over and over again. Hard. Deep. Unapologetically. Flesh and sweat. The smell of my body’s reaction to his touch coats the air—I can taste it. Leaning over me, high color on his cheeks and a searing gaze, Lawrence looks like a God sent from above to punish me or to seek my salvation.

  It’s hard.

  It’s punishing.

  It’s divine.

  Lawrence stops his assault, his fingers still inside me, and stares at me. Before I have a chance to speak, he pulls his hand out of me and cups my cheek, his fingers wet with my essence. I lift my face as he lowers his and just like that our lips touch once again. Something basic in me, something primal makes me lift my hands and tangle my fingers in his hair, bringing him closer to me. Our open-mouthed kiss turns hungry and then it turns into a desperate fight for air, where the source of such relief can only be found in the other. Urgently, thinking of Ronan but desperately wanting—needing—the man in front of me, my hands go to his belt and I unbuckle him.

  I push my hand inside his boxer briefs covering his cock with my hand, pumping its length and feeling it throb for me. “So hard …”

  Take me to your bedroom,” I whisper between hungry kisses.

  He picks me up by the ass and I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding myself on his cock, feeling the way it swells for me, the way my body instantly ignites for him.

  “No. Fuck the bedroom—I want you now,” he hisses. He walks us to the wooden table sitting in the middle of the foyer. Without giving it a second thought, he pushes the grand and extremely expensive looking crystal vase off the table with the back of his hand so he can place me on it instead. I hear glass shattering as it smashes on the floor, the smell of roses rising like steam.

  I glance toward the floor. “Oh no …”

  “Shh, it doesn’t matter.” Lawrence grabs my chin, making me look at him, and quiets me with another kiss that I feel all the way to the tip of my toes. His touch a dark paradise, he palms my tits savagely and surprises me by ripping the front of my dress down to my belly button, baring my breasts to him. Laughing as euphoria runs through my veins, I grab him by the hips, spread my legs wider to make room for him, and pull him closer to me.