Page 55 of Hunted By Valentine

His name on my lips seems to tip him over the edge. With a ferocious intensity, he thrusts into me, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke. A cry of mingled pain and pleasure bursts from my throat as my body struggles to accommodate him.

He pauses, chest heaving against mine, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. The fullness is overwhelming, the stretch almost too much to bear. But beneath it all is a throbbing pleasure that threatens to consume.

I feel him trembling slightly, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. The sheer size of him inside me is a delicious agony. My fingers dig into his shoulders harder, my breaths coming in short, rapid gasps as I adjust to the immense fullness.

He withdraws slowly, the friction eliciting another gasp from my lips before he slams back into me, filling me entirely and igniting stars behind my eyelids. The sensations are almost too much to comprehend—pain blurring with pleasure until they become indistinguishable, a relentless wave that crashes over me again and again.

His grip on my hips is bruising, fingers digging into my flesh with feral possessiveness. Even through my shirt, the wall behind me scrapes against my back with each thrust, but the discomfort only serves to heighten my arousal. My nails rake down his back as I cling to him, needing him deeper, harder.

Slowly, torturously, he pulls out until just the tip of him remains inside me. I whimper at the loss, my hips instinctively tilting forward, desperate to pull him back in. But he holds me steady, a sadistic smirk curving his lips.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls lowly, teasingly rubbing the head of his cock against my inner walls. “Can you handle it?”

“Yes,” I gasp desperately. “I need it… you. I need you.”

Valentine’s breath comes in ragged gasps against my ear, each exhale a growl of primal desire. His rhythm is punishing, unyielding, driving into me with a force that leaves me breathless. I’m lost in the sensation of him—the heat of his body.

“You’re going to cream all over my cock, aren’t you, Pet?” he rasps.

I slowly shake my head, knowing that isn’t going to happen if I don’t tell him what I truly need. My need for release is bigger than the shame I feel, so instead of holding back, I tell Valentine.

“I can’t come without pain,” I admit.

His thrusts pause for a moment, his dark eyes searching my face for any sign of deception. But I hold his gaze, refusing to back down.

And then, without warning, he moves one hand to my throat, cutting off my air like he’s done before. I gasp, my body responding instinctively to the sudden rush of adrenaline. It’s as if a switch has been flipped, my pleasure intensifying tenfold.

He resumes fucking me at a merciless pace, each stroke sending me spiraling higher and higher. Pressure builds inside of me, threatening to shatter me into a million pieces.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice a low growl. Then he tilts his head to the side and bites down on my shoulder. Hard.

The orgasm crashes over me, violent and consuming, tearing a scream from my throat as every muscle in my body tightens, and then releases in a flood of overwhelming sensation. When it’s over, I collapse against him, my body spent and trembling.

He holds me close, his cock still buried inside of me. “You’re mine,” he whispers into my ear, his voice barely audible. And in that moment, I know that he’s right. I belong to him, body and soul, and there’s no turning back.

Claiming my lips, he begins fucking me again. His tongue strokes mine in perfect harmony, and it doesn’t take long until I feel him thicken inside me.

“I’m going to come inside you, Pet. Fuck. I’m going to—” with a primal growl, he shoots his cum deep inside me.

Valentine doesn’t pull out, not immediately. Instead, he keeps me impaled on his length, his breath hot against my skin. There’s a possessiveness to the way he holds me, an unspoken assertion of control that makes my pulse quicken.

“Was that what you needed?” he murmurs, tracing the curve of my jaw. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal way he claimed me just moments ago.

I nod, still catching my breath. The intensity of my orgasm has left me dazed, every nerve ending in my body singing with residual pleasure. Valentine withdraws from me with a slow, deliberate pull, and I can’t help but whimper at the loss of him. He smirks at that, clearly pleased with my response.

When he sets me down, he has to steady me with how wobbly my legs are.

As I look down at myself, I realize my pants came completely off at some point. I don’t even remember it happening. But as I bend to retrieve them, they’re nothing more than torn fabric. “Shit,” I mutter.

Valentine chuckles behind me. “I’ll go get your coat,” he rumbles.

It doesn’t take him long to get my coat from the wardrobe, and I quickly shrug it on, tying the belt. Since it reaches my knees, no one can tell I’m not wearing anything underneath it. Well, unless they’re looking, and no one is paying me that much attention.

I’m just about to say something resembling goodnight when he bends down and fuses our lips together again. This time, it isn’t a fast or hard kiss. It’s one of those that lingers, one of those you can feel from the top of your head all the way to your toes.

“Let me walk you out,” he rasps.

Shaking my head, I say, “Someone might see. It’s better if I—”

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