Page 53 of Hunted By Valentine

“Ruby,” he says, his voice a low murmur that’s almost drowned out by the noise from the bar. The sound of my name on his lips is a command, a challenge, and a warning all at once.

Before I can react, he’s moving. His steps are deliberate, swift. In an instant, he’s closed the distance between us, his body pushing me back into the bathroom with a force that leaves me breathless.

The door slams shut, and the sharpclickof the lock makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. His hands grip my shoulders, spinning me around so fast I barely register the movement before my back is pressed against the cold metal of the door.

His body cages me in, every inch of him radiating heat and danger. “I’m done holding back,” he growls, his voice rough, a low vibration that sends a shockwave through me. There’s no hesitation, no space for doubt. His eyes, those eyes that have haunted me, are now fierce, burning with a hunger that makes me tremble.

My breath catches, and I feel my heart hammering in my chest. He’s so close. The scent of his cologne fills my senses, musky and intoxicating, mingling with the faint remnants of the bar’s stale air.

“I—” The words die in my throat as his lips crash against mine, silencing whatever protest I might have had.

The kiss is hard, claiming; a raw declaration of control. His mouth presses into mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath. His tongue demands entrance, and without thinking, I open for him, letting him take what he wants.

The bathroom seems to close in around us, the world narrowing to just the feel of his lips, the heat of his body pressing against mine, and the relentless pounding of my heart.

His hands roam over me, sliding down my arms, gripping my waist, and holding me in place. There’s no room for escape, not that I want to.

He pulls back just enough to wrap his hand around my throat, fingers tightening until my breath becomes shallow, my vision narrowing. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm enough to remind me that he’s in control. I’m completely at his mercy.

“Is this what you had in mind when you said you wanted me?” he growls, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a dark promise.

“I—” My voice falters as his lips find mine again, cutting off my words, leaving me drowning in the sensation of him. His kiss deepens, his hand tightening just enough to send a wave of pleasure through me, heightening the dizzying rush of euphoria that coils in my belly.

I’m lost, consumed by the way he touches me, the way he commands me. There’s no hesitation in him, no space for uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing, every calculated movement designed to unravel me.

My arms find their way around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as if holding him to me could keep me grounded in this storm. His body presses harder against mine, and I feel the hard length of him grinding into me.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. His grip loosens just enough to let me breathe, his fingers digging into my hips now with an almost painful force.

“I want this,” I whisper, the words tumbling out. It’s the truth, even if it terrifies me. I wantthis.I wanthim.Even if it’s wrong, even if it’s dangerous. I need it. “I wantyou.”

Valentine smirks, a cruel twist of his lips that sends another jolt of anticipation through me. His hands move to my waist, and with a swift, deliberate motion, he tears at my pants, the fabric ripping with a sharp sound that cuts through the air. His fingers slip beneath the lace of my panties, finding the wetness pooling between my thighs.

“You’re so wet for me,” he groans, his breath hot against my ear.

A shiver runs through me as my hips arch toward him, craving more of his touch. His fingers move with expert precision, teasing, exploring, but never giving me exactly what I need.

“Tell me you want me to finger fuck you,” he growls, his voice a dark promise.

Hearing him say it—the crudeness of the words from a man like him, so composed, so poised—makes my skin tingle with an electric current of need. “I want you to finger fuck me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, filled with desperation.

I can’t deny that part of the euphoria is knowing that he—the Hunter—doesn’t just want me, he’s waiting for permission. Yeah, that’s a mindfuck of the best kind.

Valentine chuckles, a low, menacing sound that sends a thrill through me. “What a good pet you are,” he rasps, his fingers plunging deep inside me, filling me completely.

I gasp, my body arching into him as the sensation overwhelms me, pleasure and pain mingling into something dark and addictive.

“You’re mine,” he growls against my lips, his breath hot, his words possessive. “Mine to control. Mine to pleasure. All. Mine.”

I moan, his fingers working inside me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His words sink into me, a dangerous truth I’ve known since I saw his tattoo and didn’t tell anyone. Hell, since I saw it and somehow decided it doesn’t matter to me.

“But you said—” I start, my voice trembling. Valentine’s fingers twist inside me, cutting off my need for clarification as a wave of pleasure washes over me.

“I said you’re mine,” he rasps. “But you haven’t earned me yet, Ruby. Not completely.”

Swallowing thickly, I let my arms drop to my sides, forcing my body to stop moving with his. “Then I don’t want you,” I retort, lifting my chin.“It’s all of you or none of you. No more games, Valentine.”

Leaning closer, he sloppily licks the length of my face, all the way from chin to forehead, leaving a wet trail behind that he gently blows on. “You said you wanted me,” he rasps, repeating the words I spoke at the charity event. “But you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

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