Chapter 7 Lyle
Lyle
Igrip my handlebars tight as I pull into the clubhouse grounds. It’s been another frustrating day of looking for clues about Valentine. I’ve stopped at every diner within a hundred-mile radius and no one recognizes her picture.
I’ve had Seth, my old military buddy who does cyber security, help me out. But he can’t find anyone looking for a missing woman on his dubious online networks.
I’m frustrated for Valentine, but there’s a selfish part of me that feels relieved. The more time I spend with her, the less I want to give her back.
Knowing she’s got some other life out there waiting for her drives me crazy, like the happy times from the last week could come crashing down on us at any time. My time with her is limited, and I have to make the most of it.
After I found out her favorite flowers are dahlias, I stopped on the way home and picked up a bunch. I grab them from the back of the bike and head inside.
I take the stairs two at a time, anxious to see her. When I knock on the door, there’s no response, so I push it open slowly in case she’s asleep.
The room is empty, her clothes strewn across the bed. It’s becoming more like her room the longer she stays. I set the flowers down on the bedside table and am about to leave when the door to the bathroom opens.
Steam billows into the room, surrounding the vision that is Valentine wet and glistening and wrapped in nothing but a towel. Wet hair is plastered to her shoulders, and water trickles down her neck and between her breasts.
She looks startled to see me. Her eyes go wide, and her mouth pops open, making her look sexy as hell.
“I didn’t know you were here…” She stares at me but doesn’t make any move to retreat.
I should leave, but I’m transfixed. Her skin is dewy from the shower, and she smells fresh, like flowers and all things good.
The urge to stride across the room and pull her toward me is so strong I have to dig my hands into my pockets.
“Sorry, I’ll go.”
“No.” She steps fully out of the bathroom and lets the towel fall. It glides slowly down her body, revealing her soft breasts, the nipples perky and hard. The towel catches on her wide hips and slowly slips down to reveal her downy dark mound of hair.
She’s perfect. Completely fucking perfect. And even though my mind is screaming that I shouldn’t do this, my body takes over.
Blood thunders in my ears as it rushes to my dick. I stride over to Valentine, closing the distance between us. My hands slide around her hips as my mouth presses to hers.
She’s soft against me, and it’s nearly my undoing the way her body folds against mine.
Her hands slide my cut off and pull at my shirt until my bare chest presses against hers. I walk her backwards, back into the bathroom, and lift her up onto the counter.
My heart thunders in my chest, beating for her, overwhelming me with my need for her, my need to show this vulnerable woman tenderness and to treat her body with the reverence she deserves.
My mouth runs down her throat and over her breasts, taking one hard nipple at a time between my teeth. She arches her back and moans as her hands tangle in my hair.
I can’t claim her until I know she’s not sworn to someone else, but I sure as hell can show her some tenderness, just a little taste…
My hands spread her thighs, and she glistens, wet, her pink lips peeking out through her dark hair. Dropping to my knees, I spread her thighs, needing to taste her, to suck on that sweetness, to give her one good memory.
Valentine tastes as good as I’ve imagined she would, her freshly washed skin combined with her tangy arousal.
She moans as I lick her, taking my time to be gentle.
I don’t know where this woman came from, but I know she needs some tenderness in her life.
I kiss and suck and lick until she’s bucking against me, coming on my tongue and filling my mouth with her sweet nectar.
When she’s had her release, I lick her again, bringing my cock out to fist as she writhes against me. She cries my name and pulls my hair as she comes, and I let myself go, shooting my cum onto her thighs as she convulses around me.
My seed coats her skin, and I don’t care if someone comes for her now. There’s no way I’m giving her up.
Valentine’s breathing hard, her eyes dreamy from the double orgasm.
I stand up and slide my hands up her back to help her off the counter. My fingers roll over hard skin, and I freeze.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Turn around, honey.” My voice is clipped, and my arousal instantly turns to anger.
She slides off the counter and turns, and for the first time, I get a look at the scarring Gina told me about.
Vicious lines crisscross her back, the skin puckered in angry ridges.
“Who did this to you?”
The anger in my voice must frighten her because she whimpers and backs away from me.
“What do you mean?”
She’s frightened, and I don’t blame her. I’ve gone from relaxed to ready to kill someone in about ten seconds flat.
“I’m not angry at you, Valentine. Did you know there are scars on your back?”
She looks confused, and I realize she doesn’t even know they’re there.
There’s a wall mirror in the bathroom, and I find a small mirror in the cabinet and hold it behind her. She gasps when she sees the scars in the mirror. Her hand reaches behind her, and she can just trace one of them.
Her eyes are wide and confused.
“I don’t remember.”
There’s fear in her voice, and my heart goes out to her. My lost Valentine. There’s cruelty in her past, and a new wave of protectiveness surges through me.
I pull her toward me.
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise.”
She’s trembling, and I lead her over to the bed. We get under the covers, and I pull her close, wrapping her in my arms.
Her body’s spent for today, and I don’t demand any more of her. With gentle kisses, I calm her down. Eventually, she falls asleep.
But I lie awake, my furious heart thumping angrily. Someone hurt my Valentine, and when I find them, they’ll pay.