Chapter 21
The Prey
“ R uby,” 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 sharp click of 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, silenc ing 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 want this. I want him. Even if it’s wrong, even if it’s dangerous. I need it. “I want you. ”
Valentine smirks, a cruel twist of his lips that sends another jolt of antici pation 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.”
If only he knew how much I know.
“Wait,” I gasp again. It’s hard to focus on his words while his fingers piston in and out of my wet pussy.
He chuckles darkly. “I’m telling you that you’re mine, Ruby. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
“I thought so,” he rasps. “But just because you’re mine doesn’t mean you get me—”
“Then this is all you get of me,” I reply. “I won’t enjoy it. It’ll be like fingering a doll and nothing more.”
Valentine’s fingers plunge deeper into me, his movements precise and relentless, as if he’s trying to unlock the darkest secrets of my soul. I gasp as he hits a spot that sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body, my nails digging into the soft skin of my palm to stop myself from reaching out and touching him.
“Do you like that?” he whispers into my ear, his voice low and dangerous.
“Yes,” I moan, my voice barely audible. The confession hangs in the air between us, heavy with desire. “But it’s not enough.”
He sighs deeply. “What do you want, Pet?”
“Your cock inside me,” I reply, brazenly. “I want you to fuck me.”
He wordlessly pulls his fingers out of my soaking pussy. Then he frantically yanks at his belt, quickly opening his pants and shoving them and his boxer briefs down.
Looking down, I take my time studying his hard length. I take in every detail like it’s the first time I’ve seen it even though it isn’t.
There’s an angry vein running along the shaft, throbbing in time with his racing pulse. The head is swollen and slick with pre-cum, a testament to how badly he wants this. Wants me. I lick my lips, a subconscious reaction to the sheer anticipation that’s building within me.
“ Touch it,” he commands, his voice stripped raw of its usual cool detachment. There’s a hunger in his eyes that borders on animalistic. “Touch me.”
I hesitate, not out of fear, but because I know the power I wield in this moment.
Slowly, deliberately, I reach out and let my fingers graze the tip, then run down the length in a feather-light stroke. His whole body tenses, a low growl escaping from deep within his chest.
“Ruby,” he warns, but I can hear the plea beneath the threat.
With a defiant look, I wrap my hand around him fully and give a slow, torturous squeeze. He bites down on his lower lip so hard I think he might draw blood.
I stroke him slowly, up and down, feeling the heat of his skin against my palm, the hardness that’s tempered with a silky smoothness. His hips start to thrust in time with my hand, small, involuntary movements.
In one swift motion, he grabs my wrist and pulls it away, pinning it above my head along with my other hand. His eyes bore into mine, a storm of conflict and lust roiling within them.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asks, his voice filled with gravel.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“If I’m going to fuck you, it’ll be raw, Pet. No condom. I want to feel all of you.”
“Yes,” I whimper, his words making my pussy flutter. “I want to feel all of you, too.”
Letting go of my hands, he palms my hips and lifts me up. I immediately wrap my arms and legs around him as he rests some of my weight against the wall while he pulls at my pants until they’re no longer in the way.
Grabbing himself, he steers his cock under my panties, and rubs the tip against me. “Mhmm… yes,” I gasp as the sensation sends a shockwave through my body.
As he eases into me—one glorifying inch at the time—I move my hands to his shoulders, digging my nails in. A strangled moan escapes my lips, part pain, part overwhelming pleasure.
He holds still for a moment, letting me adjust, his breath hot against my neck. “You’re unbelievably tight,” he grunts.
“Please,” I breathe into his ear, my voice barely more than a desperate whisper. “Please, Valentine.”
His name on my lips seems to tip him over the edge. With a ferocious intensity, he thrusts into me, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke. A cry of mingled pain and pleasure bursts from my throat as my body struggles to accommodate him.
He pauses, chest heaving against mine, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. The fullness is overwhelming, the stretch almost too much to bear. But beneath it all is a throbbing pleasure that threatens to consume.
I feel him trembling slightly, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. The sheer size of him inside me is a delicious agony. My fingers dig into his shoulders harder, my breaths coming in short, rapid gasps as I adjust to the immense fullness.
He withdraws slowly, the friction eliciting another gasp from my lips before he slams back into me, filling me entirely and igniting stars behind my eyelids. The sensations are almost too much to comprehend—pain blurring with pleasure until they become indistinguishable, a relentless wave that crashes over me again and again.
His grip on my hips is bruising, fingers digging into my flesh with feral possessiveness. Even through my shirt, the wall behind me scrapes against my back with each thrust, but the discomfort only serves to heighten my arousal. My nails rake down his back as I cling to him, needing him deeper, harder.
Slowly, torturously, he pulls out until just the tip of him remains inside me. I whimper at the loss, my hips instinctively tilting forward, desperate to pull him back in. But he holds me steady, a sadistic smirk curving his lips.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growls lowly, teasingly rubbing the head of his cock against my inner walls. “Can you handle it?”
“Yes,” I gasp desperately. “I need it… you. I need you.”
Valentine’s breath comes in ragged gasps against my ear, each exhale a growl of primal desire. His rhythm is punishing, unyielding, driving into m e with a force that leaves me breathless. I’m lost in the sensation of him—the heat of his body.
“You’re going to cream all over my cock, aren’t you, Pet?” he rasps.
I slowly shake my head, knowing that isn’t going to happen if I don’t tell him what I truly need. My need for release is bigger than the shame I feel, so instead of holding back, I tell Valentine.
“I can’t come without pain,” I admit.
His thrusts pause for a moment, his dark eyes searching my face for any sign of deception. But I hold his gaze, refusing to back down.
And then, without warning, he moves one hand to my throat, cutting off my air like he’s done before. I gasp, my body responding instinctively to the sudden rush of adrenaline. It’s as if a switch has been flipped, my pleasure intensifying tenfold.
He resumes fucking me at a merciless pace, each stroke sending me spiraling higher and higher. Pressure builds inside of me, threatening to shatter me into a million pieces.
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice a low growl. Then he tilts his head to the side and bites down on my shoulder. Hard.
The orgasm crashes over me, violent and consuming, tearing a scream from my throat as every muscle in my body tightens, and then releases in a flood of overwhelming sensation. When it’s over, I collapse against him, my body spent and trembling.
He holds me close, his cock still buried inside of me. “You’re mine,” he whispers into my ear, his voice barely audible. And in that moment, I know that he’s right. I belong to him, body and soul, and there’s no turning back.
Claiming my lips, he begins fucking me again. His tongue strokes mine in perfect harmony, and it doesn’t take long until I feel him thicken inside me.
“I’m going to come inside you, Pet. Fuck. I’m going to—” with a primal growl, he shoots his cum deep inside me.
Valentine doesn’t pull out, not immediately. Instead, he keeps me impaled on his length, his breath hot against my skin. There’s a possessiveness to the way he holds me, an unspoken assertion of control that makes my pulse quicken.
“ Was that what you needed?” he murmurs, tracing the curve of my jaw. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal way he claimed me just moments ago.
I nod, still catching my breath. The intensity of my orgasm has left me dazed, every nerve ending in my body singing with residual pleasure. Valentine withdraws from me with a slow, deliberate pull, and I can’t help but whimper at the loss of him. He smirks at that, clearly pleased with my response.
When he sets me down, he has to steady me with how wobbly my legs are.
As I look down at myself, I realize my pants came completely off at some point. I don’t even remember it happening. But as I bend to retrieve them, they’re nothing more than torn fabric. “Shit,” I mutter.
Valentine chuckles behind me. “I’ll go get your coat,” he rumbles.
It doesn’t take him long to get my coat from the wardrobe, and I quickly shrug it on, tying the belt. Since it reaches my knees, no one can tell I’m not wearing anything underneath it. Well, unless they’re looking, and no one is paying me that much attention.
I’m just about to say something resembling goodnight when he bends down and fuses our lips together again. This time, it isn’t a fast or hard kiss. It’s one of those that lingers, one of those you can feel from the top of your head all the way to your toes.
“Let me walk you out,” he rasps.
Shaking my head, I say, “Someone might see. It’s better if I—”
“It wasn’t a damn suggestion,” he snaps.
Since there’s no black car waiting to take me home, I agree. At least I won’t have to wait for a taxi by myself.