Page 54 of Hunted By Valentine

If only he knew how much I know.

“Wait,” I gasp again. It’s hard to focus on his words while his fingers piston in and out of my wet pussy.

He chuckles darkly. “I’m telling you that you’re mine, Ruby. Do you deny it?”

“No.”

“I thought so,” he rasps. “But just because you’re mine doesn’t mean you get me—”

“Then this is all you get of me,” I reply. “I won’t enjoy it. It’ll be like fingering a doll and nothing more.”

Valentine’s fingers plunge deeper into me, his movements precise and relentless, as if he’s trying to unlock the darkest secrets of my soul. I gasp as he hits a spot that sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body, my nails digging into the soft skin of my palm to stop myself from reaching out and touching him.

“Do you like that?” he whispers into my ear, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yes,” I moan, my voice barely audible. The confession hangs in the air between us, heavy with desire. “But it’s not enough.”

He sighs deeply. “What do you want, Pet?”

“Your cock inside me,” I reply, brazenly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He wordlessly pulls his fingers out of my soaking pussy. Then he frantically yanks at his belt, quickly opening his pants and shoving them and his boxer briefs down.

Looking down, I take my time studying his hard length. I take in every detail like it’s the first time I’ve seen it even though it isn’t.

There’s an angry vein running along the shaft, throbbing in time with his racing pulse. The head is swollen and slick with pre-cum, a testament to how badly he wants this. Wants me. I lick my lips, a subconscious reaction to the sheer anticipation that’s building within me.

“Touch it,” he commands, his voice stripped raw of its usual cool detachment. There’s a hunger in his eyes that borders on animalistic. “Touch me.”

I hesitate, not out of fear, but because I know the power I wield in this moment.

Slowly, deliberately, I reach out and let my fingers graze the tip, then run down the length in a feather-light stroke. His whole body tenses, a low growl escaping from deep within his chest.

“Ruby,” he warns, but I can hear the plea beneath the threat.

With a defiant look, I wrap my hand around him fully and give a slow, torturous squeeze. He bites down on his lower lip so hard I think he might draw blood.

I stroke him slowly, up and down, feeling the heat of his skin against my palm, the hardness that’s tempered with a silky smoothness. His hips start to thrust in time with my hand, small, involuntary movements.

In one swift motion, he grabs my wrist and pulls it away, pinning it above my head along with my other hand. His eyes bore into mine, a storm of conflict and lust roiling within them.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks, his voice filled with gravel.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“If I’m going to fuck you, it’ll be raw, Pet. No condom. I want to feel all of you.”

“Yes,” I whimper, his words making my pussy flutter. “I want to feel all of you, too.”

Letting go of my hands, he palms my hips and lifts me up. I immediately wrap my arms and legs around him as he rests some of my weight against the wall while he pulls at my pants until they’re no longer in the way.

Grabbing himself, he steers his cock under my panties, and rubs the tip against me. “Mhmm… yes,” I gasp as the sensation sends a shockwave through my body.

As he eases into me—one glorifying inch at the time—I move my hands to his shoulders, digging my nails in. A strangled moan escapes my lips, part pain, part overwhelming pleasure.

He holds still for a moment, letting me adjust, his breathhot against my neck. “You’re unbelievably tight,” he grunts.

“Please,” I breathe into his ear, my voice barely more than a desperate whisper. “Please, Valentine.”

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