Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Her lips were soft, giving beneath his as he commanded her mouth, taking every pleasure from her. She was tense, at first, shocked, but she quickly melted against him, groaning.
He flicked his tongue over the crease of her mouth, silently demanding she open to him, give him what he wanted. She opened for him, allowing him access to her wet heat.
It was his turn to groan; she tasted of vanilla and his woman—his new favorite flavors. And he was fucking hungry. Holding her face between his hands, and deepened the kiss, his tongue invading, sweeping inside to lay siege to her, to her senses, to her untried mouth. He knew she hadn’t kissed many men, that she was untrained in the ways of kissing but, fuck, she was still good. Still capable of bringing him to his knees with the way her tongue writhed with this, testing him, teasing him.
He'd fucking come in his goddamn pants if he didn’t stop.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers.
She was here, his beautiful Valentina.
Close—his woman was close, finally!
Right in front of him. No screens or miles between them. No more anonymity she could wield as a shield against him.
They were nearly chest to chest. Both of their hearts racing.
Breath shared as they both panted, desperate for air.
Finally, he’d tasted her, his Daisy, the woman he’d been dreaming of for nearly a year. And she tasted so much better than he could ever imagine. Sweet, sassy, like cinnamon and sugar. Holy fuck, he needed to taste her again…and again…and fuck if he wasn’t wondering if her pussy tasted just as good.
Definitely, she’ll taste like sin and heaven.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, this volatile, this unnerving, this devastating.
How was he supposed to think, to explain, to finally tell her all he’d wanted to say, when he couldn’t stop the beast within him for keening, snarling, roaring for him to touch her, slam his mouth down on hers and taste her again and again and again? One kiss—their first kiss—wasn’t enough, would never be enough. He needed more.
But now wasn’t the time.
His Daisy, his Valentina, had finally come to him. It might not be for the reasons they’d planned for all those weeks ago; her being ready to make them official, but he’d take her any way he could have her.
His breathing still strained, his heart still racing, he drew back to peer down into the face of the woman he loved. God, this close, her eyes were like glittering chocolate diamonds, and in them, he could see her fear, her apprehension, her uncertain desire. She wanted him, wanted to be with him, but she was terrified.
And he’d done that to her.
“You were right.” He didn’t bother explaining, because they both knew what he was talking about.
Without hesitation, she replied, “I know I was.”
Fighting a smile at the snarl in her voice—like a pissed off kitten, he continued, “About our definitions of ‘wait’ being different.”
She cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. “You mean how your definition is that you say one thing then do another?”
“About how yours is truth and mine is bullshit.”
She went stone still, shock etched into the curves of her face. She blinked, squared her shoulders, and drawled, “Go on….”
God, this was going to fucking suck. Brushing a soft kiss against her forehead, he admitted, “When I told you I would wait for you…I honestly thought that you agreed to let me continue fucking around as long as I didn’t get emotionally attached to any of them, like I am with you.”
Flinging her arms into the air, she forced him to drop his hands and step back—it was like ripping himself away from his source of life. He needed to be near her, touching her, calming the beast inside him with the warmth of her body.
But she was denying him that.
And he deserved it.
Growling, his Daisy demanded, “Why would you think that? Seriously, Redtube , you told yourself you couldn’t be committed so you gave yourself a bullshit excuse, thinking I wouldn’t find out. You said you’d wait, patting me on the head, offering me some sweet platitudes about waiting for me to be ready, and thought I’d happily putter around, thinking I’d locked down the Devil Dog Cock God, and you could just continue banging your Insta groupies, collecting fuck tokens, and living your best life.”
Every. Single. Word she spoke was like a slap in the face.
“That’s goddamn bullshit, Val,” he growled.
“Is it? Cake…and eating it, too?—”
“What is it with you and cake?” he grumbled, exasperated.
She continued, ignoring his outburst, “You wanted the comfort and familiar of the online wifey who’d stroke your ego, give you a shoulder to cry on, challenge your big brain—without the need to actually give more of yourself than you already give to your fuck buddies. Those women get the body, the pleasure, the worship, the O face, and I got what was left at the end of the day. You got the best of both worlds without ever having to commit to anything.”
In a flash, he had her pinned against the wall, his hand around her throat, his nose pressed against hers, growling down into a face with eyes so wide and filled with shock and lust he nearly roared in triumph—his woman was at his mercy, eager for his dominance?—
She squirmed, her eyes now narrow and spitting rage.
Huh. For a moment, he’d worried he was taking this too far, that his inexperienced baby girl would be scared, wary, maybe even a bit terrified of his actions. However…there was no fear there, only anger.
Hmmm…. She bucked against him, breaking him from his darkening thoughts.
“What the hell, Red?” she snarled, wriggling against his hold, which only succeeded in rubbing her soft belly against his really hard cock. He shuddered at the friction—fuck, that felt good. He groaned. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she froze, her eyes growing big once more.
He couldn’t stop the wicked smile even if his jaw was broken.
“Now, you’re going to listen to me— without speaking —and once I’m done explaining, we’re going to have a calm, rational conversation about our relationship?—”
She sneered at that, her lush lips curling, revealing her adorable little canines.
Not even bothering to fight the urge, he pressed a quick kiss to her already kiss swollen lips, and grinned.
“Snap and hiss all you want, baby, we’re going to talk—but first?—”
Pulling her toward him using the hand around her waist, he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck, right beneath her ear, dragging in a deep, slow breath.
Lemonade, sugar, vanilla, sunshine….
God…she smelled so fucking good; it was making him hungry for lemon drop cookies…and naked sunbathing.
She tensed. “What are you doing ?” she demanded, pressing her hands against his chest. Immediately, he growled at the sensation of her touch on him—even through this t-shirt and kutte, he could feel the heat of her hands, hands he wanted on his naked body. She gasped. “What are you, some kind of animal?”
He chuckled against the flesh of her neck, fascinated by the pink color rising on her skin.
“I’m just so happy to have you here, my Daisy,” he answered, making sure to drag his mouth along her jaw to place another quick kiss on her lips.
She spluttered, her eyes wild, “Stop kissing me! And let me go!”
He did it again, ignoring her hands pushing against his chest. He owned that mouth.
Gently squeezing the throat still in his grasp, he reminded her, “You will listen to my explanation, then we will talk, and after that….” He shrugged, knowing that if he told her he was going to fuck her on his desk until it collapsed from their violence, she wouldn’t comply. And he needed his Daisy nice and compliant, supple, submissive.
She would be his good little girl. At that thought, his cock jerked in his jeans, and the hand on her waist itched to grab her hair to hold her in place for a mouth ravaging.
That’ll all come later…hopefully. If he could get her to understand what he’d done, why he’d done it, and then forgive him.
She thinned her lips in obvious displeasure at his words. “ After that …I get the fuck out of here, and you forget you ever knew me.”
A blast of blinding fire and chilling rage slammed into him. No fucking way—that wasn’t happening. The fact that she believed he could forget her so easily made his chest hurt—she was every fucking thing to him.
You fucking other women disproves that, asshole!
But he could make up for it, show her that he loved her, that he was dedicated to her, that he was ready for commitment, no matter what crazy ass bullshit she believed about him.
He leaned down until his nose was against hers, his gaze pinned to hers. Her mouth dropped open, her breasts rising and falling as her breathing quickened, brushing her hard nipples against his chest.
“Do you understand?” he demanded, his voice hard, offering no argument.
Still she opened her mouth, ready to argue anyway, but a little force around her neck silenced her.
Again…no fear, only this time instead of anger he saw…lust.
Fuck.
His Daisy loved dominance.
Oh, he could definitely work with that.
Back on track, fucker!
Raising his other hand, he held her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Do you understand?”
There was a war waged in her eyes, and he could tell she was fighting with herself; part of her wanted to stay, to hear him out, to move forward, but the other part of her, wanted to cut off his balls, pin them to his computer desk, and get the hell out of Dodge.
She licked her lips, making his cock ache for such attention.
Soon…you just have to hold on, just a little bit longer….
He waited, his breathing slow, deliberate, watching as the war raged on…finally, after a minute, she snapped, “Fine. But no more touching.”
Not touch her? That was unacceptable!
But you want her to stay, to hear you out, of her own free will. Sacrifice now for all the touching you want later.
Grunting his displeasure, he dropped his hand from her face, and slowly loosened his grip from around her throat. Once her neck was free, she slid sideways along the wall then hurried around him to sink into his desk chair. She fell into it as though her legs could no longer hold her upright.
Turning, he followed her with his eyes, not wasting a moment or chance to memorize everything about her—her shape, every curve, how she moved, her body language, the way the light from the sun turned the strands of her hair to polished mahogany—he inscribed every detail of her on the stone tablet of his heart, so that the gospel of his love for her would last for eternity.
As he stared at her, taking her in, she was watching him. Waiting.
Obviously tired of the mounting silence, she huffed. “Go ahead then, explain. Get it all out so I can put all this behind me and move on with my life.”
Oh, he’d explain, but the only way she was moving anywhere was with him.
Heaving a sigh, he leaned his ass against the desk, needing to be near her even if he couldn’t touch her. She leaned away, wary, her gaze pinned to him like a gazelle’s on a slumbering lion.
Forcing himself to focus, he finally began, “When we first connected online, I had no intention of ever taking things further than just flirtation. That’s what I did, I flirted with my followers and subscribers, giving them the @RedDevilDog treatment they expected from their favorite thirst trap. I gave you what I thought you wanted, and I was okay with that, I expected that, that was the reality of the position I’d put myself in building my career and online presence as a masked fuck boy.”
She grunted, crossing her arms, but otherwise she remained silent. Watching.
At least she’s listening.
“When we became friends, actual friends, things started changing for me. I realized that I could have more with a real person, someone who didn’t just see me as the man in the mask, or the Unchained biker—you saw the real me, and you still wanted me. You made me believe that there could be more than all the bullshit my father taught me about commitment—which was fuck all. He jumped from woman to woman, giving them just enough of himself to get them to stick around long enough for him to tire of them. Then he’d drop them. Again and again, woman after woman, year after year—and I saw that shit; for me, that was just what a relationship between a man and a woman was, transactional, temporary, easily broken and forgotten.”
For a moment, Val’s expression softened, her brown eyes warming. But then the chill was back. Still, she remained silent. Listening.
So, he continued. “When I became a Marine, not much changed in my love life—I still hit it, quit it, then moved on. I could use the excuse that being active duty was a barrier to having a lasting, committed relationship, but that’s bullshit; plenty of Marines have families, wives, kids. I just wanted to fuck around without dealing with the drama—that’s how I always knew it to be, how I grew up thinking it was supposed to be for me . Then, I met you, and you fucking flipped all my switches. I didn’t give a fuck what you looked like because I started falling for your humor, then your intelligence, then your kindness and compassion….” A warmth filled him, and his voice softened. “Your voice…fuck, your voice…it filled me up, Val. And, fuck, I’ve missed hearing your voice.” Goddamn, did he miss it, like how a sailor would miss the sea, or an amputee would miss a limb…or a drowning man would miss breathing. “Your voice could make me smile when I was feeling like shit…or come in my fucking hands as I jacked my cock to fantasies of what you’d sound like begging me to fuck you harder.” At her gasp, he stopped, his gaze pinned to her, desperate to know what she was thinking, but he knew he needed to finish. “I fell in love with you even before I knew what you looked like, Valentina?—”
She opened her mouth, ready to protest, disbelief and fury in her expression, but he held his hand up, stopping her. “Let me finish, please.”
Again, war raged in her eyes, but she slumped back in the chair, pursed her lips, and furrowed her brows.
Fuck…I need to touch her….
Shaking his head with a slow sigh, he continued on. “I wouldn’t believe me, either, with the way I’ve acted, how I’ve treated you—treated what we have.” He pushed away from the desk, and began pacing. “You’re right…when I said I’d wait…I didn’t think anything would change. I thought that, once you were ready to put a label on it, to step out from behind the screen, that I’d be there, arms open?—”
“Smelling like pussy,” she interjected, disgust distorting her face.
Growling, he stopped pacing and faced her. Dropping his chin, he fought the urge to grab her and shake her, then crush her in his embrace.
Fuck…I need to touch her! To comfort her, to hold her up, to hold her together, to be the one who takes away the pain even when I’m the reason she’s hurting.
Because, behind the disgust on her face was the bruise. The wound. The pain. The betrayal.
He’d done that. Because he was a fucking coward.
“Honestly…not once did I consider keeping my dick in my pants,” he admitted as shame forced his breakfast back up his throat. “I…I wanted what you offered but….” God, how could he say the next part?
Her soft voice, drowning in suffering and humiliation, was like a hammer blow to the chest. “You wanted other women more.”
A fiery hand reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. His breath caught, suffocating him, as he fell to his knees before her.
Wanted other women more? Impossible!
“Fuck, baby, I need to touch you,” he rasped, pained. Not waiting for her to respond, he placed his hands on her legs, absorbing her heat, desperately pushing his need to comfort her through his hands and into her.
Steadying himself when what he wanted to do was throw himself out the fucking window, he reached out a shaking hand, curled a finger under the chin, and raised her face. Her breathtaking eyes, glimmering with unshed tears, met his, and he cursed.
Moving forward, he pressed his belly against her knees, getting as close as he could—but he was still too far away.
Face to face, breath mingling with breath, he fought the urge to kiss her, to show her, with his body, what she meant to him. But it was his body that had betrayed him before; it was listening to his body that had hurt her in the first place.
“You’ve got it so wrong, baby—I never wanted those women, not the way you think.”
She snorted, rolling her eyes, which offered scant relief; at least she wasn’t pulling away. She raised her hands from her lap to brush her hair behind her ears, then dropped them back into her lap. Using his free hand, he took her hands into his much larger one, squeezing them.
Again, she didn’t pull away.
Taking a deep breath for the first time in what felt like hours, he admitted, “I know it sounds fucking cliché and misogynistic as hell, but those women were a placeholder, just holes to fill. There was no emotional component—never was. For me…sex is a primitive drive, no higher reasoning involved. I need to fuck, so I fuck, and I get that isn’t how it is for everyone, but that’s how it is for me. No excuse, I get that, because I told you I would wait…and you believed that meant something I hadn’t intended.”
“Is…is that how sex would be between us? Transactional, just a primitive drive to fuck—you’d nut then roll off and go about your business?” she inquired, both hurt and fury in her voice.
“Fuck no, my Daisy,” he replied, emphatically. The hand under her chin slid up to gently cup her face. “I love you. My emotions are 1000% involved. Having sex with you…making love with you would be the most powerful experience of my life…because it is with you , the woman I love. The woman I’ve been desperate for.”
Swallowing, he squeezed her hands once more, then, with a voice heavy with unspoken emotion, he said, “With those women, it was transactional because we were performing a service to one another—an exchange, pleasure for pleasure, no feelings, no strings, no promises, no commitment.” He raised her hands, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “But between us…you and me…it would be covenantal…a promise, a vow between two people who love each other. It wouldn’t be fucking, it would be love making because it’s deeper than just two bodies joining: it’s two hearts beating in sync, it’s two souls merging with their other half. It is a marriage, a wedding, a covenant, something unbreakable, unbending…forever.”
Her eyes were huge in her pale face, her breaths shuddering, her lush lips parted. She looked like she wanted to speak, but she bit her lip instead.
Tired of fighting his urges, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. She didn’t recoil but she did tense, holding her breath.
For a long while, the only sounds in the room were the muffled voices and noises from outside the office filtering in through the closed oak door.
Finally, Val blinked, squared her shoulders, and met his gaze with her bright brown beauties.
Her voice strong, unwavering, she announced, “I want to fuck someone else…and I want you to watch.”