Chapter 52 Valentina
FIFTY-TWO
VALENTINA
As I walk into the house, I get the overwhelming sense of being hunted.
It’s quiet; so quiet, I can hear the barn door rattling against the opposite wall down the hill from inside the house.
It’s also dark, all the lights turned off besides a single bulb over the stove, beckoning me into the kitchen like a moth toward a flame.
I feel like I’m being hunted—like a rabbit in a wolf’s den—but I can’t seem to turn away, drawn to the light as if it might offer some kind of absolution.
The hairs on my neck stand, and I hold my breath as I reach the light, looking down at the stove and the space around it for clues.
Where’s Rafael?
Fear and adrenaline mix in my veins, an intoxicating cocktail, and even though I know I should retreat to a safer place, I’m already hooked on this heady feeling of chase that pumps through me.
“Are you scared, little rabbit?” I hiss in surprise as his hushed voice fills the kitchen. I whirl around, but the dark filling the house seems inky—impossible to slice through with the bare eye.
I know now that was his intention: draw me into the light so he could find me, but I could not find him.
I lick my lips. “I’m not a little rabbit.”
He roughly chuckles, the sound harsher than what I’ve come to know and adore from Rafael.
“Yes, you are. You’re my little rabbit, aren’t you?
” That’s because it’s not Rafael. This is Santos—the man who wants to break my body and mind, mold them in his palm so he might tuck me into his pocket and keep me forever.
This isn’t a man in love. This is a man possessed.
My toes curl.
“Rafael?” His name comes out far breather than I intend, and part of me doesn’t expect him to acknowledge me.
A greater part of me hopes he won’t.
I love Rafael, but I crave Santos—I crave the release and oblivion only he can give me.
He tsks. “Don’t ruin the fun, little rabbit.”
I shift on my feet, chills erupting over my skin, my nipples aching against the rough feel of my shirt. “What do I need to do then?”
He laughs again, the sound grating against my nerve endings.
I still can’t see him, but I can hear him, shuffling closer and closer.
And when I feel like my heart might just burst from both fear and anticipation, his face flashes into the small pool of light, far closer than I even realized.
His face splits into a vicious grin. “Run, little rabbit.”
And I do.
I tear out of the kitchen, toward the front door and burst out into the frigid night air. I don’t feel her familiar chill, the scorching adrenaline pumping through my veins warding off anything but fire.
I can’t hear him behind me, but I can feel him. I can feel his breath, his wicked grin, his heated gaze—he’s close, but I can’t stop. My arms pump at my sides, my legs eating up the space with greater speed than I think I’ve ever managed.
Still, it’s not enough. I know he’s gaining on me when I hear him laugh, the sound so full of exhilaration and promise, I stumble over myself, my entire body trembling from the shiver that splits down my spine.
I’m terrified. But I’ve never felt more alive.
“I’m gonna catch you, Little Rabbit, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
I squeal, pushing my body harder, but it’s not enough. His muscle-bound arm wraps around my middle, the momentum of my feet folding me over in a huff of air as he grips me. “Let me go!” I shriek, flailing my legs.
He only grips me tighter, pulling my body to his chest, his free hand wrapping around my throat to twist my face to his before his lips crash against mine.
It’s a punishing kiss—vicious and unrelenting—and even though my pride demands I continue to fight him, I melt against his mouth like the desperate, meek, needy woman I’ve become. A little rabbit, indeed.
We stumble forward, my focus wholly on him and his on me, and we crash into the truck parked in front of the house, my legs taking the brunt. I cry out, but I don’t stop kissing him. I can’t. I’m a fucking mad woman.
His breathing catches, and for a single moment, I fear he’ll let this game go, more afraid of hurting me. But I don’t want that. Tonight, I want to be broken. Tomorrow, I want to wake up with bruises as the reminder of who I am, what I can endure, who I belong to.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I snarl, and his grip around my throat tightens.
“You’re a fucking vixen, an evil woman, a siren singing me to my death.
” His teeth nip at my lip. “Fuck!” he snarls into my mouth.
“The taste of tequila on your tongue drives me fucking crazy. Were you thinking of me when you drank it?” I nod as his tongue spears into my mouth again, taking another taste.
I pant against him as I reach behind me to find purchase anywhere I can—his head, his neck, his back and ass.
I want to feel him everywhere, anywhere, inside and out.
“So fucking desperate. My desperate whore.”
“Yes,” I mewl, rubbing against him like a dog in heat, not even trying to deny it.
Both his hand around my middle and neck begin to wander, feeling for the hem of my shirt.
Growing frustrated and impatient, he grips the neckline of the simple, navy long-sleeve and tears.
It rips with a satisfying hiss, baring my chest to the frigid air and the even colder press of the truck in front of me.
I cry out, my nipples frozen, aching peaks where they rub against the metal.
Rafael doesn’t notice, his hands hungrily eating up the skin like this is the first and last time he might have me, like if he doesn’t soon, he might die. When he reaches my nipples, though, his rough palms grazing my sensitive buds, he freezes, his breath wheezing out of his body.
“What’ve you—” he snarls, whirling me around so quickly, my head bangs against the glass of the window.
My chest heaves upward toward his waiting gaze, the moonlight glinting off the fresh hardware now stationed in the rosy tips.
As if in a trance, he reaches up, lifting one hoop with the pad of his forefinger, inspecting it before flicking his gaze to the other.
“Do you like them?” I pant, suddenly nervous at the prospect I might’ve underestimated his love for the silver bars instead.
He nods, but his mouth does not open, his eyes transfixed on the onyx metal.
They’re not heavy by any means, but they aren’t the smallest hoops one can buy either.
Their weight, distributed outward from my body, does bring about a feeling of constant tugging, and I haven’t gotten used to them yet.
It’s a delicious thrill, and I absentmindedly push my chest upward toward his tentative fingers.
His gaze snaps to mine, warning glittering in the mossy orbs. Without saying a word, the tip of his pointer finger slides into the ring, tugging slightly, and I gasp, my body instantly quivering.
Rafael smiles, a mean, deviant smile, and then smashes his lips to mine.
I moan again into his mouth, my legs wrapping around his waist as he uses the truck to keep me hoisted up.
I’m met with the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my ass, and I’m suddenly aware of just how many clothes separate us.
“What a whore you are indeed,” he snarls.
I nod, ripping at his clothing as if I can somehow free him of his layers, even as I press against them. He chuckles, gripping my wrists in his hand and pushing my feet back toward the ground.
“What’re you—” I snarl, but he shakes his head, eyes flashing, and I bite my tongue.
“Take your clothes off but don’t move.”
My mouth flops open. “Out here?” I look around, the bite in the air becoming hard to ignore. He nods, not offering me a word of explanation. Rafael then backs up toward the tail of the truck, his eyes never wavering.
I do as he says, quickly undressing until I’m bare beyond the thick layer of goosebumps covering my body. My tits quiver in the chill, and I dance on the balls of my feet to keep from freezing solid.
Rafael returns, a thin orange string wrapped around his fist. “Is that baling twine?” I ask incredulously.
“Look at you. You’re learning all the ranching things, V. If I wasn’t so needy to fuck you, I’d praise you.”
My eyes flutter shut, and I rub my thighs together, desperate no longer an adequate way to describe how badly I need him. Rafael tugs on the hoop through my nipple, and I cry out, looking down toward the pain.
Not tug, but— “What’re you doing?” I look at him, renewed fear pumping through my veins. It’s almost too much, the exhilaration threatening to make my heart explode.
Rafael threads the orange twine through the other hoop before finally meeting my gaze. “You want to torture me with these, little rabbit? You want me to know pain and desperation?”
I swallow but don’t answer. He knows me well enough; I can’t lie. Not even now.
He tugs lightly on the twine, and I cry out again, my eyes widening as I realize his intentions. “Please. I don’t know if I can handle it.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth, just a single peck, and then he grips my shoulder. “Maybe not. But I know you can, and I’m going to show you just how strong you really are.”
Rafael twists me, facing me away once more, my naked body pressed against the truck, the twine under my arm. I hear his zipper, imagining him pulling out his cock and stroking it as he lines it up with my entrance. And then, he tugs, reminding me all over again of who’s really in charge.
“Oh God!” I scream, the pain intense, zipping downward toward my already drenched, pulsing core.
“That’s it. Scream for me.”
The tip of his cock presses against the crease of my ass, drawing lazy lines through my wet folds until he’s coated. I’m a quivering, blubbering mess, unable to think past the pleasure at my waist and the pain in my chest.
I’m completely lost to the sensations, no longer mind or body, just soul, and all of it belonging to Rafael.
“Please,” I plead.
He tugs on the twine, pulling the hoops. I scream. “Be more specific, Little Rabbit,” he warns in my ear, and I try to form words. It’s a nearly impossible task, my body pulsing with blood everywhere except my fog-filled brain.
Finally, I croak, “Fuck me, torture me. Both. At the same time.”
He groans, lightly biting the flesh at the juncture between my shoulder and neck. “Here?” He tap, taps his cock against the entrance of my pussy. “Or here?” He glides his swollen tip toward the puckered hole of my ass. I grip the truck mirror, want and fear like I’ve never known ripping through me.
I shiver and whisper, “My ass, Rafael. I’ve never—in all the years, I’ve never.
..” I choke on the words, realizing it’s the one thing I’d unknowingly saved for myself.
I relinquish my last shred of flesh—the piece I kept hidden—to this man I’ve fallen hopeless and completely in love with like it means nothing.
Not because it doesn’t, but because I’d give him anything without so much as a second thought.
“I want you to take me in the ass, Rafael. I want you to be the one and only man I feel there—ever.”
His chest rumbles at my back, a purely primal sound, and he tugs again at the string through my nipple rings, causing me to scream. He licks from my shoulder to my lips, branding a path up my body.
Rafael glides his cock through my folds again, coating himself and then my asshole with cum. He lines himself up with my ass, pressing just the tip in, and I freeze, my body involuntarily tightening.
He bites my earlobe and pulls on the twine in the same delicious moment. “Focus here—” He tugs again, this time harder, and I begin panting, a thick sheen of sweat covering my skin. “Focus on the pain, and remember how strong you really are, V. Strong, beautiful, and mine.”
“Yours,” I cry, and then he pushes farther, rocking and rolling his hips, stretching my ass in a way I didn’t even know was possible.
It stings at first, the feeling of being impossibly full borderline too much to handle.
But then he yanks on my nipples, and I refocus on the sting and reverence of his touch—how he has my body and soul in his hand, and I trust him to bring me only pleasure.
“More,” I beg, rocking back into him, pushing his dick farther inside me.
He hisses, “Baby, I can’t be gentle when you do things like that.
” It’s a slip in his mask—calling me baby when he’s trying to play the outlaw.
It’s what I love about Rafael—even at his darkest, he’s incapable of being anything but a loving, tender, gentle man.
He’s not afraid of what I might think, only that he might hurt me.
I bounce back onto him farther, screaming as I feel him push to the hilt, my ass swallowing his offering, molding and rearranging for him as if he belonged there all along.
“Fuck me,” I beg, my voice quivering. I’m already close, and I need him to come undone for me as I do for him.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Remember, I love you.”
Rafael takes a handful of my hip, the twine wrapped around his opposite hand, and begins fucking into my ass at a punishing pace.
Within seconds, the fire of pain morphs into overwhelming pleasure, the burn consuming me from the inside out.
Reaching down, I flick my fingers over my clit, but I know I barely need it to find my release.
It’s there, burning through my body like a wildfire.
“Fuuuucckkkk,” he roars into my hair, his body slapping against mine like an animal. “This body, this fucking ass, was made for me.”
“Yes,” I pant. “Yes! Oh fuck, Rafael, I’m close. I’m gonna—”
He tugs on my nipples, sharper than before, ripping my release from my body. It’s different than any times before it. Instead of the euphoria spreading through my body like a warm glow, I burst into flames. Instead of tightening, I feel like I’m being torn open at the seams.
Instead of feeling like I’m giving part of me, I realize I’ve finally found myself—here, in the home I thought was my prison, doing the one thing I thought was my weakness, within the arms of the enemy I thought I’d give my life to.
I no longer care what I’ve done or what others have done to me. I no longer care where I’ve been or where I’m going. I don’t even care if I’m a Reyes anymore—I only care that I’m his.