Page 17 of Her Possessive Valentine

A weak, muttering whimper escapes me, but it intensifies as I start to rock my hips up and down, side to side, back and forth. Before I realize it’s happening, I’m riding Vance like a bucking bronco.

Heavy, husky breaths erupt out of him and tickle the wet spot he left on my nipple. I slide my hand under his chin and bring his face up to mine, locking our mouths in an intense, fiery kiss to rival the actions from below.

Vance starts bucking his hips to meet my bouncing, slamming the enormous hunk of meat inside of me. He catches one of my moans in his mouth and releases it with one of his own as he flops backward onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, Hana,” he roars into the void of our otherwise dead-quiet hotel room. “You’re so fuck … I’m so … Jesus Christ.”

A grin breaks across my face. I know what those words mean. And it’s not what he’s saying but how he says it. The panicked rasp in his tone, the way his body squirms, and his breathing get replaced by feral growls.

“That’s right, baby,” I say in a sultry whisper. “Come for me. Fill me up with your hot, sticky seed.”

Dirty talk comes so naturally when it’s directed at Vance. The filthy things my mind conjures to tip him over the edge. And God, how he loves it. There’s no restraint left in him when I say those words. He starts spasming in uncontrollable throes of orgasmic bliss.

With a deep raw that rumbles straight from his core, he finds his release. I give him a second to catch his breath, then crumble forward onto him, kissing and nibbling his lower lip.

Sometimes, it still feels like I’m living in a dream around him. Hopelessly floating from one cloud to the next, incapable of making heads or tails of how we ended up here.

But there’s one thing I’m always sure about, and it’s that Vance Valentine is the perfect man. Myperfect man.

And I can’t be happier knowing I get to spend the rest of my life with him at my side.

EPILOGUE

VANCE

Two Weeks Later

As promised, Hana and I finish our round-the-world trip in France. Surrounded on all sides by my family, we’re sitting outside in a roadside bistro, enjoying the fresh air, sights, and sounds of Paris. If it were up to me, I’d have Hana all to myself. Locked away in our cabin of love, overlooking the Eiffel Tower, and ending our journey the same way it began.

But it’s not up to me, at least not this time.

We’re here to celebrate the successful merger of our company with La Superiorite. Had I not wanted to take Hana on a sightseeing adventure of the world, we’d have ended up here anyway.

“To The Superiority.” Victor’s sitting at the head of the table with a champagne glass raised high in the air.

“Hear, hear.” Vaughn’s next to cheer our monumental achievement.

“But let’s get down to our real cause for celebration.” Victor’s eyes travel down the table. First his wife, Olivia, cradling their baby to her chest. Then Mom beside her, leaning over to tickle her granddaughter’s cheeks. I’m next, expecting him to stop here, but his eyes move farther down until they settle on Hana. “Another welcome addition to this family.”

Hana’s cheeks instantly set ablaze, and her grip on my hand under the table tightens. “Thank you. I’m just so happy to be here.”

“Oh God,” I groan and roll my eyes. “You know you don’t have to play along with his bullshit, right?” Of course, she does. I gave her an in-depth brief of how this was going to play out in advance.

“Getting flustered, Vance?” Victor smirks at me, but there’s no malicious intent behind his words. Just a brotherly ribbing to make me squirm.

“Sitting next to this stunning woman, how couldn’t I?”

“Vance, stop. You’re making me blush in front of your mother,” Hana says in a whisper intended for me, but Mom hears it and laughs.

“Being flirty and cute are the least of my concerns, dear,” Mom says, shaking her head to ease some of Hana’s tension.

“And what about you, little brother?” I flick my eyes over to Vaughn, who has Victor’s first child on his lap. He’s bobbing her up and down on one knee while making funny faces that send her off into fits of hysterics.

“What about me?” he asks, in the lighthearted tone one would approach a baby with.

“When are you gonna find yourself a pretty little thing to bring along to these family get-togethers?” I ease back in my chair and smirk. “Unless you want Mom to come along on all our triple dates.”

Vaughn’s face shifts several shades of red as the table erupts into hearty laughter. But as it all settles down, Victor’s attention lingers on Mom, who’s staring right back at him. His brow flicks upward as if the pair of them are having some telepathic conversation, and after a long sip from his short glass, Victor speaks.

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