Darling Venom

by Parker S. Huntington

“This is not the beginning of something,” Kellan warned. “If anything, it’s the end.”

I whistled, circling around his small living room and pretending to admire the mostly bare shelves with just a few small frames, the stock photos still inside them. “Ob-gyns don’t have the best dirty talk game in the world, huh?” My back was to Tate when he answered me. “Bet you all the pennies in your cheap little purse that I can make you drip cum on my face in less than ten seconds—before I even use my tongue or cock.”

Here’s a life lesson I’d never wanted to learn. Our secrets are nothing but a string of memories we wish to forget. Tate placed his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to continue.” I clasped his hand in mine. It was warm, rough, calloused, male. Perfect.

“Break your hymen,” he corrected. “I wouldn’t be taking your virginity; I’d be breaking your hymen.” My lips parted. If anything, his words made me wetter. I felt like I’d just been told the special of the day at a three-Michelin-star restaurant and that I needed to beg in order to eat it. I will if I have to, I decided. It scared me how much I wanted this. Him.

Abigail, on the other hand, had a very active sex life and wasn’t afraid to share it. “Raincheck on drinks tonight? I have a date with an archeologist, and I’m hoping he’ll unearth my g-spot.” I held the door to our office building open, exited after her, and shouted to her retreating back, “If the archeologist fails, you can try a private detective next. I hear they’re good at finding things.” “A gynecologist might be a safer bet,” a deep voice suggested from behind. “Of course, you know that from personal experience.” I swiveled to find Tate there, leaning against a concrete pillar attached to the building. He had one hand shoved in a pocket of his cigarette pants, the other toying with his phone.

My cheeks felt hot. I rummaged through my bag, pretending to search it so I didn’t have to look at him. “Okay. Answer it.” “I wasn’t concerned about your sex life because you were a patient,” he said casually. “I’m concerned about it because I want to fuck your brains out until you lose the ability to walk straight. Unfortunately for me.” I stopped what I was doing. Silence blanketed us.

I realized, with depressing clarity, that she wasn’t the venom at all. She was the antidote. But the quantities were all off.

“You’re it.” “What?” He slid closer, brushing shoulders with me. Sweet determination lit a fire in his eyes. “You said you wished you could find the thing to keep me going. You’re it, Charlie. You’re the thing that keeps me going.” I remembered that day. We’d talked on the phone for the first time, then I showed up at his house. I was already falling back then. “I love you, Charlotte Richards. I can’t promise you I’ll always be okay, but I can promise you I’ll always love you and I’ll never be ashamed to say it. Over the past five years, I lost myself in grief. But then I found the most precious thing in the world—you.” His mouth claimed mine, forcing away years of loneliness and replacing them with him. I felt him everywhere. Inhaled the familiar sandalwood, bonfire, and citrus. Tangled my tongue with his.