Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 35: Ride

Chapter 35: Ride

- Glyndon Walton: (Song of the Chapter: Meddle About by Chase Atlantic)

I bolted out of her room, my heart racing so fast I could barely breathe.

My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t get enough air, and my legs moved on autopilot, carrying me down the stairs and out of the house.

I didn’t look around, didn’t stop to think. I just ran, the weight of what I’d done pressing down on me, suffocating me.

I kissed her. I kissed her. Not just anyone, but Kathrine Andrews—the lesbian of the school, the person I hate, the one I hated the most.

My lips still tingled from hers, and my body burned from how close we had been. I could feel her all over me, and it was driving me insane.

I felt her pussy on my mine... The heat and desire that pooled in my womb at that mere contact scared me.... Terrified me.

I stopped by the gate outside her house, gasping for air, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my knees.

My head was spinning, and no matter how much I tried to push the memory away, it clung to me.

I kissed her, and I liked it. I liked it. How could I have liked it? How could I enjoy something like that? It wasn’t supposed to feel good. It wasn’t supposed to feel right.

I sinned...So many sins, god will never forgive me.

Guilt clawed at my chest, tangling with panic and denial.

I wasn’t this person. I wasn’t someone who kissed girls—or who kissed her. I had a boyfriend. I wasn’t supposed to... But I did.

And the worst part was that I wanted more. That thought alone made my stomach twist. What kind of person was I?

I was spiraling, shaking, barely keeping it together when I instinctively reached into my pocket for my phone to call the driver.

My hand came up empty. I froze. Frantically, I checked my other pocket, then my hoodie. Nothing.

A surge of panic shot through me as I started patting down my clothes, searching desperately, my breaths coming faster.

No phone. No wallet. Nothing.

"Oh no," I whispered, my voice trembling. My hands moved faster, yanking at my hoodie, flipping my pockets inside out, but it was no use.

I didn’t have them. My heart sank, and I stood there, frozen, staring blankly at the ground as realization washed over me like ice water.

I’d left them. My phone, my wallet—everything—was in Kathrine’s room.

I felt scared. I’d have to go back. Back to her. Back to the room where I’d kissed her, where everything had gone wrong—or maybe too right.

My feet felt rooted to the ground, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. If I wanted to go home, I’d have to face her again.

And that’s when I heard it—her voice, sharp and teasing, cutting through the fog of my panic.

"Forgot something?" she asked, her tone dripping with sass. I didn’t need to turn around to know she was smirking; I could hear it in her voice.

My heart stuttered, still racing, and my face burned with heat, no doubt flushed a deep, humiliating red.

Slowly, I turned around, my movements stiff, like I was trying to act casual when every nerve in my body was screaming.

There she was, standing just 10 feet away from me, holding both my wallet and my phone.

Her smirk was infuriating, curling the corners of her lips

She was dressed now—some kind of black pants that hugged her figure and boots that made her look taller than she already was.

I swallowed hard, as I took a step forward, reaching for my things. "Give them back," I said, trying to sound firm, my tone clipped. "I need to call my driver."

Her smirk widened. She lifted my phone and wallet higher, just out of my reach.

The smug amusement in her eyes made me want to scream.

I reached again, my arm stretching as far as it could, but she was a whole foot taller than me, and there was no way I could grab them.

"Give them back," I repeated, my frustration boiling over.

But instead of complying, she just smiled and slipped both my phone and wallet into her back pocket.

My jaw dropped, and I stared at her in disbelief.

"I’m going to give you a ride," she said casually as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Come on." She motioned for me to follow her.

I crossed my arms, planting my feet firmly on the ground. "No. I don’t want to go with you. I have a driver." My voice was shaking, but I refused to back down.

She just stood there, watching me silently for a moment.

Then, to my utter shock, she chuckled. It wasn’t a kind laugh; it was dark and full of mischief.

"Well," she said with a shrug, "I sincerely apologize if that sounded like a question."

Before I could respond, she grabbed my wrist. Her grip was firm, and no matter how much I pulled and twisted, she didn’t let go.

"Let me go!" I yelled, trying to pry her fingers off me. But she ignored me entirely, dragging me behind her with infuriating ease.

I kept struggling as she pulled me toward the garage.

"I don’t want to go with you! Let me go! I’m serious!" But my protests were pointless.

She didn’t stop until we were inside the garage, and I saw her purple motorcycle parked in the middle of the space.

My stomach dropped. "No," I said immediately, shaking my head. "I’m not getting on that. I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to be near you anymore!"

She didn’t even acknowledge my words.

Instead, she grabbed one of the two helmets hanging nearby and shoved it onto my head, fastening the strap securely before I could stop her.

My fingers fumbled at the buckle, trying to pull it off, but I had no clue how, she was already putting on her helmet.

"Stop it!" I yelled, my voice muffled by the helmet.

Still ignoring me, she pulled down the footrests on the back of the motorcycle. "Hop on," she said, her voice muffled but commanding.

"I’m not—" Before I could finish, she grabbed my waist and hoisted me up onto the back of the bike.

I let out a startled yelp, scrambling to get off, but she swung her leg over and settled in front of me, her hands gripping the handlebars.

"Let me off!" I shouted, twisting and squirming, trying to climb down.

But she reached back and grabbed my wrist again, holding me in place.

She turned her head slightly, her voice low and dangerous as she hissed, "I’m going to give you a ride, so stop fucking fighting."

Something in her tone sent a chill down my spine, and, for reasons I couldn’t explain, my body obeyed.

My hands rested lightly on her sides as I sat frozen on the bike, my heart pounding as loudly as the roaring engine when she started it.

The motorcycle roared to life beneath me, the sound deafening and vibrating through my entire body.

Kathribe kicked the kickstand back with a deliberate motion, and then, without looking back, she said over the noise, "Put your arms around my waist."

I clenched my jaw, glaring at the back of her head. "No," I snapped, the anger bubbling up again. "I’m not going to do that. I don’t want to touch you. I don’t even want to be near you."

She sighed as if I were the one being unreasonable, and then suddenly, without warning, the bike jerked forward.

My stomach dropped, and a scream caught in my throat as the sudden motion had me scrambling.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around her waist, holding on for dear life.

Kathrine laughed, a low, teasing sound that only infuriated me more. "Oops," she said, her tone dripping with fake innocence. "I guess I forgot to keep my hand on the clutch."

She did it on purpose. I knew she did it on purpose.

My face burned with embarrassment and frustration, but I didn’t loosen my grip. As much as I hated it—hated her—I wasn’t about to risk falling off this death machine.

The bike steadied, and then it began to move, rolling smoothly out of the garage.

At first, all I could think about was how much I hated being here, how much I hated her smug attitude, and the fact that she had so much control over the situation.

But then the bike picked up speed, and something shifted.

The cool night air rushed past me, tugging at my clothes and brushing against my body.

The sound of the engine seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the sensation of the wind and the hum of the tires on the road. My grip on Kathrine’s waist was tight at first, but then it loosened as I became more focused on the ride itself.

For the first time that night, my thoughts stopped spiraling.

The guilt, the anger, the panic—it all faded away, replaced by the rush of the ride.

I stopped thinking about how much I hated Kathribe, how much I hated myself for kissing her, or how much I hated that I didn’t hate it at all. None of it mattered anymore.

All I could focus on was the moment—the feeling of being weightless and untouchable, like nothing could reach me while the bike sped down the quiet streets.

My chest felt lighter while pressed on her back, thighs tight on her hips, my arms around her waist, my mind clearer.

I almost didn’t notice when Kathrine leaned her head back slightly and shouted over the noise, "See? Not so bad, is it?"