Letting go of the notion of being let down and betrayed will take time, but I know that, and so does he.
“Trust me. Open your eyes.”
I do. And my fears are bested by the wonders of Valentine. The ceiling of his bedroom is twinkling with tiny pinpricks of light.
I start to say how pretty they are, but he’s disappeared. I know he’ll be back. I have fewer doubts in my mind, along with acrap ton of impatience and anticipation. I get distracted staring at Valentine’s private night sky on his ceiling.
A vise-like grip wraps around my ankle, and I pull away, yapping in surprise, but I stop struggling when I find him in the shadows. He looks like one of the gods from ancient times, blessed with ethereal features and blinding power.
He undresses for me. And it’s a show I’d pay money to see. Valentine’s body is smooth planes and defined curves. His cock is thick and hard, the four silver balls adorning the head sitting like a crown.
He is eerily still as I look over every inch of him until I see why he’s locked up like a statue—my suppressors and blockers are in his hand. Every one of them, by the looks.
“These are done. You only took them to give us an advantage, but it was wrong of me to insist…”
I interrupt. “I insisted first, Valentine.” Forgetting about the restraints, I try to get up off the bed. Though I can’t move an inch, I try a few times, only stopping when he steps closer, pumping his hard cock in response to my struggle. My eyes won’t look away, but I’m still trying to comfort him about taking the drugs we all decided on.
“Val, it was my decision…”
“Enough. Don’t argue with me.” His bark has an edge to it that has me closing my eyes, dealing with another onslaught of want.
As if I would argue, with him as my prize.
The mattress dips, and I sink further into the subspace Valentine provides. I no longer think, happy to hand him complete power, so all I can do is feel. Which is what Valentine is all about—giving me the confidence and space to hope and live again.
“I don’t even have to blindfold you, do I?” He chuckles as he gently bites the flesh on the inside of my thigh before trailing his nose up. “No coming until I say.”
His mouth covers my pussy, and he sucks me through the silk of my pajama shorts, cursing the sweetest praises and groaning. Valentine is near primal in the way he eats me out; there’s no lead up, his whole intention is to ruin me completely. And I am so fucking into it, I bite my lip until I taste blood in a bid to not come.
Without taking my shorts off, he spears my pussy with his fingers, and my hips move as I ride his hand. Valentine has let go of his control on his Alpha, so everything is one hundred times more intense than Val’s usual intensity.
Each touch reverberates, and every whisper he breathes over my skin has me seeing stars, but he drives my pleasure to a place where I am nothing but a vessel for him to fill.
I suck in lungfuls of espresso air, whining under the influence of his scent, desperate for more. So close to coming apart already.
“Don’t you dare.” His voice rumbles in my ear, then his mouth is on mine. I nearly sob with relief as he takes his fingers out of my pussy, but my reprieve is short-lived when he uses his mouth and fingers on my breasts.
Valentine suckles on my nipple, his tongue curling around my aching peak, his hands massaging the flesh, leaving me writhing under him.
“Val,” I whimper, trying desperately not to come, but my pussy floods with slick with each twisting pinch.
His attention diverts, his mouth hovering over my breast and his breath blowing over the areas on my nipple he’s been sucking on while his hand dips down so he can see how wet I am.
“Give it to me, Layne. No more holding back,” he says as his fingers glide through my arousal.
He bites my nipple hard, giving me another focus, before licking his way down my stomach and past my aching pussy to kneel between my legs. The mattress shifts again, then I feel a cold press of something foreign between my legs, and my eyes fly open to see what he’s doing.
At first, I’m struck by the beauty of him, unable to protest or groan in pleasure. He is in his element, basking in my trust as he uses a blade to slice through the seam of my saturated silk shorts. As he looks at me, his eyes are full of heat as his desire drives him hard. Shuffling forward, he pulls my legs up, so he can lay them over his thighs, and I sigh in relief, my body burning and ready for him to drive inside me.
Except, he doesn’t press his body to mine; he flips the knife, holding the blunt side of his blade in his hand before he rubs the handle over my pussy. The cold handle is as shocking as the pleasure that courses through my system as he slowly fucks me with the knife handle.
My ass pitches up when he shoves the hilt in farther, and the thrill of it has me begging. The relief at being filled has me teetering on the edge of an orgasm. “Valentine.”
He bends down and flicks his tongue, lapping around the back of the blade to the slick that pools over my entrance.
“I can’t,” I cry out. The insanity of the rush of dangerous pleasure has my vision wavering as I try not to come.
He doesn’t relent, driving me to near insanity with the steady thrust of the knife and his hunger as he eats me out.
