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.

From the doorway, you watched her. The way the silver rings on her fingers caught the candlelight. The sharp line of her black eyeliner, winging out like a raven's feather. The faintest hint of a fang when she bit her lower lip, lost in a stanza about decay and desire. GothGirlfriends - Nika Venom - Enjoys Passionat...

She leaned in, her lips a millimeter from your ear. She reached out, not to touch your face,

She was perched on the edge of the black velvet chaise, one fishnet-clad leg tucked under her, the other dangling a scuffed combat boot just above the floor. A thin trail of clove smoke curled from her lips toward the tin ceiling. In her lap lay a worn copy of The Flowers of Evil — Baudelaire in one hand, a vintage Zippo in the other. The way the silver rings on her fingers