Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 26: Cookies

Chapter 26: Cookies

-Kathrine Andrews: ( Songs of the Chapter: Needed Me by Rihanna/ Shut up and Listen by Nicholas Bonnin & Angelica)

As I lounged on Glyndon’s ridiculously expensive couch, the soft fabric molding around me, I couldn’t help but watch her—watch her as she slept.

There was something almost hypnotic about the way her face twisted in the depths of her dreams.

I could see her lips moving slightly, whispering something in her sleep.

Then, my name. Just a breath, but enough for me to catch it. "Kathrine..." she murmured, and it sent a sharp thrill through me.

My ego swelled, a satisfied smirk curling on my lips.

Not only had I managed to track her down in the waking world to get under her skin in ways I didn’t think possible, but now here she was calling for me in her sleep.

Her body twitched as if she could sense someone watching her, and then she suddenly took in a sharp breath, pulling herself from the depths of whatever nightmare she’d been caught in.

Her eyes fluttered open, confused for a moment. Her hair—a mess of tangled waves—framed her face like some wild halo.

She looked around frantically, almost like she was trying to grasp reality again, trying to make sense of the fog of sleep.

And that’s when I decided to speak. My voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

"We kind of do look hot in these pictures," I commented, almost casually, as if I hadn’t just been an intruder in her subconscious and the Sanctuary of her bedroom.

I watched her body freeze the moment she heard my voice.

Her head whipped in my direction, eyes wide and searching as if trying to piece together if this was reality or some lingering remnant of her dream.

The confusion and fear on her face were delicious.

Her lips parted as she finally found her voice, shouting, "What are you doing here? What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom? How did you even get in here?"

Her outburst only fed my amusement, but my smirk faded, replaced by a glare that silenced her.

"You better keep it down," I said coolly, "unless you want your maid to walk in and see these pictures spread everywhere."

The panic in her eyes was almost instant. She froze for just a moment before glancing at the photos in my hand, and then at the door.

Without hesitation, she jumped out of bed. That’s when I noticed her attire—or lack thereof.

She was dressed in nothing but a matching set of lacy panties and bras, her skin glowing under the soft light of the room.

She rushed toward me, her bare feet padding across the floor as she reached for the photos in my hand.

I stood, holding them high above her reach, forcing her to stretch as her fingers barely grazed my elbow.

Her frustration only deepened as she glared up at me.

"Give me those pictures!" she demanded, her voice trembling between anger and desperation. "How did you even know where they were hidden?!"

I tilted my head, a smirk playing on my lips again. Oh, she had no clue. Not about the closet she thought was her haven.

Not about how I’d found the key so effortlessly. And that ignorance? It made my victory sweeter.

When she realized she couldn’t reach the photos, her breath hitched, and her eyes darted up to mine.

The closeness between us suddenly dawned on her, and her gaze flicked downward, taking in the minimal clothing she had on.

A flush of color rose to her cheeks as she took a shaky step back, clearly nervous.

But before she could retreat any further, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against me, forcing her body to flush with mine.

Her breathing grew uneven as she struggled against my hold, her palms pressing against my chest in a futile attempt to push me away.

"Let me go!" she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and panic.

But instead of releasing her, I leaned in, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear as I whispered, my voice dripping with amusement.

"You really should keep it down, little devil," I said, feeling her body stiffen against mine. "Because if your maid comes in here, she won’t only find the pictures. She’ll find you like this—practically naked, pressed up against another girl who happened to be the Leabian of our school. Now tell me... how are you going to explain that to her? To your parents? To your future husband?"

Her entire body froze, her wide eyes meeting mine in utter disbelief.

The weight of my words sank in, and I could feel her trembling against me, torn between fear, anger, and something else entirely... Desire.

I leaned in even closer, my lips barely grazing the curve of her ear as I whispered, my voice low and commanding, "Be a good girl, Glyndon. Go back to bed, sit there, and wait for me."

I pulled back just enough to see her face, and the sight before me was intoxicating.

Her lips trembled, parted as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Her eyes flickered with a storm of emotions—lust, craving, desire, and yet, so much guilt. The way her body betrayed her was delicious to witness.

Every shiver, every sharp breath she took, told me how much she hated herself for reacting to me this way. For wanting me, of all people.

The girl she bullied. The girl who wasn’t supposed to make her feel anything but disgust.

The torment etched across her face only fueled my satisfaction, a deep, thrilling sense of control washing over me.

She was trapped—trapped by her body’s betrayal, by the guilt gnawing at her, and by me, standing there with no intention of letting her escape from it.

Glyndon’s eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them.

I saw it—the desire she didn’t want to admit, the craving she was trying so desperately to suppress.

Her body betrayed her as if on instinct, obeying my silent command.

Slowly, she moved backward, and I released her waist, watching as she made her way to the bed.

When she reached it, she sat down, her posture tense, anger plastered on her face like a mask to hide her true feelings.

Her voice was sharp, trembling slightly with suppressed emotion as she spat, "What do you want? And how did you get into my room?"

I smiled, but it wasn’t kind. It wasn’t meant to be. There was no warmth in my expression, only cold amusement and wicked intent. Every thought I had about her in that moment was dark, cruel, and unapologetically selfish.

I reached over to the couch and placed the pictures down, my gaze never leaving hers.

Then, as if I had all the time in the world, I picked up one of the cookies the maid gave me, biting into it slowly as I began to close the distance between us.

" how I got into your room," I said, my voice casual but laced with an edge of taunting.

"Well, it’s simple. I knocked on the door, and your sweet housemaid let me in. I told her I was a friend of yours, and she was more than happy to offer me snacks and lead me straight to your room."

Her body stiffened, and I could see the subtle tremor in her shoulders as my words sunk in.

Her breath hitched audibly when I added, "And I’ve been sitting here, watching you sleep, for the past two hours."

Her eyes widened, panic flickering across her face as she realized I’d been here the entire time.

Watching her.

Her near-naked form, vulnerable and unguarded. Her lips parted as if to protest, but no words came out.

Her body shook slightly as I advanced toward the bed, closing the gap between us, one slow, deliberate step at a time.

Every movement was calculated, a predator approaching its prey. And she knew it.

I stepped even closer, the space between us shrinking until I stood right between her legs. Her body trembled, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Slowly, I reached out and wrapped my hand around her throat—not tight, but firm enough to remind her who was in control.

My fingers rested against her delicate skin, and I felt the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my palm.

Her hands clutched the bedsheets tightly, knuckles white, her gaze locked on mine.

She looked utterly undone—so vulnerable, so breakable, so beautifully submissive.

She was ready, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Ready to take everything I intended to give her.

Leaning in, I whispered against her ear, my voice low and taunting. "Do you remember what I said I was going to do to you?"

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as my words pierced the haze of her panic. "Back at the church," I continued, my breath brushing against her ear, "do you remember what I told you I wanted to do to you?"

A tremor ran through her as realization dawned, and then panic overtook her.

She pressed her hands against my stomach, trying to push me away, but her attempts were half-hearted, her strength faltering.

She didn’t want to stop me—she wanted me to push further. That craving betrayed her. I could see it in the way her eyes flickered with fear—not of me, but of her desire.

"No, stop," she stammered, her voice shaking as I pushed her down onto the bed, pinning her wrists above her head.

"Let me go." But her voice wavered, the plea lacking conviction.

Her fear wasn’t in the act, but in how much she wanted it—how much she wanted me.

I leaned over her, my smirk widening as I looked down at her flushed face.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me, her body betraying her struggle between resistance and surrender.

I tightened my grip ever so slightly, leaning closer until my lips hovered over hers.

"I always get what I want."