“I don’t have that talent,” I assure her. “Compelling takes a lot of focus. My mind wanders a lot. I was likely dropped on my head as a baby.”
Her glare leaves my ear and returns to my eyes. I wish I could hold her there. Having her eyes on mine makes me feel clearheaded for the first time in my life.
“I can hardly look at myself in the mirror,” I say. “But I can’t seem to take my eyes off you.”
The corner of Zahara’s right eye twitches, as though she’s trying to determine whether to believe me or not. I hold still for her examination. I’ve never been to school or had any formal learning, other than Hadrian insisting I learn my letters. Whatever test Zahara gives me now, I am determined to pass.
“I don’t lie. Not with my words, anyway.” I look down at the growing bulge in my pants.
Zahara’s gaze dips too. “Looks like your body knows what it wants.”
I shake my head. “Both me and my dick desire you. But like I said, I won’t let it hurt you.”
“You talk about your penis as though it’s not a part of you.”
“It has a mind of its own. Believe me when I tell you it’s too big for you. Would you like to see for yourself?”
I reach for my zipper and peel it down. As I do so, the blade falls from Zahara’s hand and she gasps. With feline grace, she springs from the bed and lands on the floor as the monster makes its appearance from between the teeth of my zipper.
Chapter 4
Zahara
I’ve spent most of my life living in Central America. In that land of lush green forests and wetlands, there are many large animals that can kill you, one of them being the Anaconda. I’ve seen my fair share of the large snakes slithering around, looking for a meal. None of those beasts could hold a twig to the massive tree trunk that Virius Serrano takes out of his pants.
I leap back, away from him and to the door. The hackles of the big cat in me rise, now on high alert as I sense a threat.
I hiss at the sight of the predator as it slithers towards me. There is no tongue that slithers out of its mouth. Only a single bead of moisture that leaks from its solitary eye. I swear that eye tracks me as more of the beast’s body slithers from its hiding space between Virius’s thighs.
Is he carrying that thing around with him the whole time? How does he stay upright? How has it not attacked him? If it gets close enough, it will certainly swallow me whole—from the tip of my head on down to my pinky toes.
Virius’s cock is thick enough to take me whole. He’s definitely long enough to have his fill of me. And that thing is supposed to go inside me?
I sincerely don’t see that happening. It defies the laws of biology. It defies the laws of physics.
“It won’t hurt you,” Virius says as he holds the massive beast out towards me. He can barely contain his cock in his hands, and his hands are nearly the size of my head.
The pulsing of that one-eyed monster begs to differ with his words. It throbs as it looks at me. The red tip grows darker with each second as blood pools there. The veins at the sides of the python’s length also coil and writhe as he grows longer. Thicker. Closer. Readying to eat me alive.
So why do I want to reach out and touch it? Why do I have the urge to pet it and give it a name? Peter the Python. Anthony the Anaconda. Lenard the Lady Killer. Frankie the Fucking Big Dick Monster.
“Now you see why I won’t have sex with you,” Virius says.
He shoves his dick back into his pants. It’s a two hand job. The large, reddened flesh definitely fights him as he wrestles it back below his waistband.
It does not go. He heaves a sigh of frustration as he gives up the battle with his zipper. Instead of continuing the wrestling bout, Virius yanks the threadbare sheet over his waist.
I can still see the clear outline beneath the cloth. Frankie pulses with life. Still writhing, coiling, and pulsing. I would swear it’s trying to get closer to me.
Anacondas aren’t as dangerous as Hollywood movies and documentaries make them out to be. Snakes, large or small, aren’t aggressive creatures. They generally go out of their way to avoid large animals, especially humans. If they attack, it’s because they feel threatened. Or they’re hungry.
The thing in Virius’s pants continues to move, tenting the sheets, as he stretches his hands behind his head and grins up at me.
“You are small and tiny, just a wee thing. Your cunny would split in two if the beast got too close.”
Said cunny pulses and clenches as I continue to stare at his covered midsection. Then my mind replays his words and my lady bits’ desires get pushed to the back of my thoughts. “Did you just call me small? Tiny? And wee?”
I straighten from my crouch to my full height. So maybe I’m nowhere near the six and a half feet of Virius’s height. I’m barely at his eye level as he lounges back on the cot.
Taking a few steps toward him, I retrieve my dagger. I flip it in my palm, catching the handle and aiming the pointy end at him. Virius grins at my show of violence.
“And fierce.” He grins down at the dagger in my hand. “You would gut me if I let you.”
If he let me? Does he not see who has the upper hand here? Clearly, in my upper hand is a blade that I just demonstrated I know how to use. Like I said, he isn’t the first Anaconda I’ve ever seen.
“You are a treasure,” Virius says.
That rankles. I’ve been told all
