Page 43 of My Bloody Valentine

“Adrian!” She cries out my name as I fill her, my hands bruising her hips.

I press my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath as the waves of pleasure wash over me. “Fuck, Maya,” I breathe, my voice husky. “That was...” Words fail me, and I trail off, unable to find the words to describe what just happened.

Maya’s fingers entwine with mine, bringing my hand to her mouth. She gently kisses my knuckles before nibbling at my finger. I feel her teeth, sharp against my skin, and shiver, the sensation sending a rush of desire through me. And then, she tries to pull me in for a kiss.

Fuck, I need to get ahold of myself. “Not so fast,” I murmur, pulling away, teasing her. “We have all night, and I plan to make the most of it.”

I pull out slowly, savoring how Maya’s body clings to mine. Her juices coat my length, a mixture of our combined releases. The sight of her bound and marked, completely at my mercy, stirs something primal within me.

I’ve wanted this since I first met her. To own, possess, and mark her as mine in every possible way. And now, I’ll show her exactly what that means on Valentine’s night.

Carrying her to the bed, I place her on it and unfasten the ropes around her body. I trace the marks on her thighs, admiring how they’ve branded her skin. She shivers under my touch, still sensitive from her orgasm. The night is young, and I have many delicious plans for her.

“Do you know what makes tonight special, Maya?” I run my fingers through her sweat-dampened hair, gripping it tight at the base of her neck. “It’s not just Valentine’s Day. It’s the night you truly become mine.”

I want to break her apart and rebuild her in my image. Fill every hole, mark every inch of skin, until she forgets who she was before me. The darkness inside me roars with approval at the thought.

The night stretches before us like an empty canvas, waiting to be painted with our twisted passion. And I plan to make every stroke count.

19

MAYA

Idrift in and out of consciousness, caught between dreams and reality. In my dream, Adrian looms over me. His hands grip my hips, pulling me toward him before his thick cock slams into me with urgent, relentless thrusts. The sensation is intense, and I cry out as a battering series of waves, both pleasure and pain, wash over me.

As the dream intensifies, I tense, my body responding to the fantasy as if it were real. But something feels off. My eyes snap open as I realize Adrian is inside me, for real. I’m not dreaming—he’s actually fucking me while I sleep.

“What the fuck, Adrian!” I yell, anger and shock coursing through me. I try to push him off, but he’s too strong, holding me down with an iron grip. “You sick bastard! Get off me!”

He doesn’t stop. Instead, he leans down, his hot breath against my ear. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Seeing you naked and vulnerable, you were like an offering I couldn’t resist.”

His words stir a dark desire within me even as I struggle against him. How did I end up here, trapped in this perverse game? I remind myself that he kidnapped me, drugged me, and is holding me captive above his chocolate boutique. Of course, he would cross this line.

“You’ll pay for this, Adrian,” I hiss, my voice shaking. “Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

His nostrils flare. “Threaten me all you want, Maya. It only makes me harder. Besides, where would you go? You’re mine now, and I plan to keep it that way.”

Adrian’s fingers skillfully undo the knots, slowly releasing me from my bindings. I’m acutely aware of his heavy cock still buried deep inside me. The sensation of being free while still tied to him in this intimate way elicits conflicting emotions.

“You know, I love it when you fight me,” he says, his voice hoarse with desire. “It makes the victory that much sweeter.”

I glare at him, summoning every ounce of my remaining defiance. “Go to hell, Adrian. I’ll never submit to you.”

His eyes darken, and a wicked smile plays on his lips as he pins down one hand. “Scratch me, Maya. Leave your mark on me like I plan to do to you.”

As if suddenly possessed by an animalistic urge, I dig the nails of my free hand into his back, relishing the feel of my nails breaking the skin. A groan escapes his lips, and he thrusts harder, each punishing stroke sending a shockwave of pleasure through me.

I twist and scratch, trying to break free from his grip. But he holds me tight, his hands bruising my wrists as he savors the battle of our bodies.

“That’s it, little critic. Fight me while I fuck you. Scratch and claw all you want, but know that you’re mine. Every inch of you.” His voice is thick with arousal as he bites my shoulder, claiming me with his mouth.

The urge to mark him consumes me. My fingers dig into his inked chest, leaving deep scratches that make him groan with satisfaction at knowing he’s forced all of this on me, and nothing I can do will stop any of it.

“That’s right, baby,” he grunts. “Show me your wild side. Scratch and claw, but remember, my body is yours to claim, too, every mark a symbol of your ownership.”

His dirty talk fuels my desire, and I throw caution to the wind, raking my nails across his chest again. A part of me relishes the idea of marking him, leaving my imprint on this man who has taken so much from me.

Adrian bites my neck, his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin as he sucks and nips. The pain shoots through me, only adding to the eroticism of the moment. I can feel the evidence of my desire leaking out, mixing with the sweat that glistens on our skin.

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