Gothgirlfriends - Nika Venom - Enjoys Passionat... -

She reached out, not to touch your face, but to brush a stray hair from your collar. Her knuckles grazed your jugular — deliberately.

The rain hadn't stopped for three days. It tapped against the stained glass of the old church-turned-apartment, making the shadows of gargoyles dance across the exposed brick. Nika Venom liked it that way. Melancholy had a rhythm, and she moved to it. GothGirlfriends - Nika Venom - Enjoys Passionat...

"Passion isn't loud to me," she said, finally pressing her palm flat against your chest, right over your heart. "It's this. A slow, deliberate pressure until something cracks." She reached out, not to touch your face,

She stood. The leather of her corset creaked. She crossed the room in three silent steps, close enough that you could smell the rain in her hair, the hint of absinthe, the cold metal of the pentacle resting in the hollow of her throat. It tapped against the stained glass of the

"So tell me, little lamb... are you ready to enjoy something passionate?" Nika Venom. She doesn't just love. She consumes.