Page 46 of Hunted By Valentine

I’m so surprised by the intimate act that it takes me a second to process that he is indeed kissing me. Then I kiss him back with all the fervor I can muster, my body still trembling from the force of my climax. I sigh into his mouth as his tongue snakes around mine. He tastes of whiskey and mint, a delectable cocktail.

When he pulls away, his eyes bore into mine, and I see a flicker of something deeper—perhaps affection—before his usual cold intensity returns. He releases my throat, and I slump back against the desk, utterly spent.

I look up at him through half-lidded eyes, dazed and confused by the change in him. “Professor…?”

He reaches behind me, undoing the belt and releasing my hands. I quickly bring them to his shoulders, steadying myself.

“Lie down on the desk,” he commands.

Thedeep timbre in his voice makes my sex clench, and I quickly move off his leg and lie down on the desk. I rest on my elbows with my legs dangling off the edge.

“Spread your legs.”

While he slides the chair to the end of the desk, I part my legs as much as I can. I can feel his intense gaze on my throbbing, wet pussy. I bite down on my bottom lip, waiting for his next command. But it never comes.

I quickly realize that this is about him, not me. He begins stroking his still hard cock again. Two fingers delve inside me, but only briefly. He then spreads whatever wetness he’s gathered along his shaft, groaning in appreciation. He continues until his entire length is glistening, covered in my juices.

Damn, that is so sexy.

I can’t look away as he jerks himself off at an almost punishing pace. My name spills from his lips more than once, each time a deep moan. Even though he’s not touching me, I’m ready to detonate again, but I know this isn’t about me.

“Are you going to come for me?” I ask, my voice a soft purr. “Cover me in your cum?”

He doesn’t answer, but the tension in his body tells me everything I need to know. His hand is a blur, his breathing ragged. I arch my back, pushing my breasts toward him, offering myself as a canvas for his release.

“Professor,” I say again, this time with more urgency. “I want to feel you.”

With a growl, he stands, and for a moment, I think he’s going to push me away. Instead, he leans over, capturing my lips in a fierce kiss. His hand moves to my thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise. The pain and pleasure mix in a heady cocktail that makes me dizzy.

He breaks the kiss just as suddenly as he started it and looks down at me with something like conflict in his eyes. My heart stutters; is he having second thoughts? Before I can say anything, he steps back and strokes himself one last time.

Hot streams of cum splatter against my stomach and chest, each exploding like a firework on my skin. I gasp at the sudden heat, at the raw, primal intensity of it all. His groans fill the room, mingling with my own breathless whimpers.

For a moment, time seems to stretch and warp. I lie there, utterly still, feeling each sticky line slowly cool against my skin. He stands over me, chest heaving, eyes half-closed in the afterglow. It’s as if we’ve both been transported to another dimension—one where nothing exists but our two bodies and the charged air between them.

He reaches out a hand as if to touch me, then thinks better of it and lets it fall to his side. “You should clean up,” he says, his voice rough and low.

Not liking the shutters I see fall over his eyes, I lick my lips and let my hands run over my body, smearing his cum into my skin. “I think I’d rather wear you for as long as I can,” I state.

Without waiting for his response, I get up and find my clothes. Dressing in a silence I refuse to acknowledge as anything but a testament to how spent we both are.

When I’m fully dressed, I turn back around, seeing he’s looping his belt through the hoops on his pants.

“Thank you for the evaluation,” I smirk. “I’ll keep in mind that you’re a stickler for thoroughness.” Then I spin and walk over to the door, opening it. “Goodnight, Professor.”

Chapter 18

The Prey

Two days later, I find myself standing next to Valentine and Carolina in a dimly lit building, the air thick with anticipation. The scent of damp wood and dust fills my nostrils as I take in the grandiose space, the echoes of our footsteps bouncing off the walls.

Carolina’s voice breaks the silence. “This place would be perfect for the Willow’s Foundation charity event. It’s just… it needs a little TLC.” Her eyes are filled with determination, her jaw set in a firm line. I admire her tenacity, even as I feel a pang of sadness.

Valentine’s deep, measured voice responds, “Well, I’m intrigued.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, his fingers brushing against his chiseled jawline. The simple act sends a shiver down my spine, a jolt of electricity that ignites an unwelcome desire within me.

I trail behind them as Carolina insists we do a thorough walkthrough. Despite my attempts to pay attention to their conversation, my thoughts keep flicking back to our last private encounter in his office.

The hours spent in that room play on an endless loop in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I’m proud of myself, proud of the way I acted. I was a willing participant, hell, I even asked for what I wanted.

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