Stealing Valentine

I know what I felt in that hidden room. And I know damn well she felt it too. The heat, the way she gasped so quietly so I wouldn’t hear.

Oh, but I did, and I’ve been hard ever since.

“Now the skirt.”

My voice is thick and leaden, edged in steel, and I see the effect it has on her. I see the way she gasps, the way her eyes widen, the way the spark teases its way over her skin, making her shiver.

“Off, princess.”

She swallows, but this time, she doesn’t even put up the act like she’s been doing. She just holds my gaze, eyes full of hunger and lust as one of her hands slides to the zipper at the side of the skirt. She’s trying her damnedest to hide her full, juicy tits with one arm, but it’s a losing battle, and one of her light pink nipples frees itself, I groan deeply. Her hand trembles as it tugs at the zipper, her chest rising and falling as she blushes under my hungry gaze.

The skirt slides away, tumbling to the floor, and my eyes slide slowly down between her thighs to the lacy black thong covering her little pussy.

“Off.”

She shivers, barely holding back the moan as she shakes her head.

“No.”

I grin. Good, she still wants to play this game.

I move closer, and she’s fucking panting as I move in, leaning over her with my eyes locked on hers. My hand slides to her wrist, and when I tug her hand away from her chest, she whimpers as she lets me. Her breasts spill into view, and it takes everything I have left not to just wrap my lips around one of those perfect nipples and take her right now.

My finger teases down her collarbone, brushing down between her tits as she gasps softly. I trail it down her belly, groaning as her soft supple skin caves under my touch, a barely contained moan trembling on her lips.

Fuck, claiming her is going to be the sweetest sin. Feeling her tight, slick little cunt swallow my cock up is going to be fucking heaven.

My finger hooks into the waist of her panties, and I start to tug. She gasps, panting, sucking in a breath as I pause with my finger caught there between her skin and the lace.

“What’s your name, princess,” I growl lowly, our eyes locked.

“What do you care?” she tosses back, somehow dredging up one last little ounce of sass.

I slowly grin.

“I make a point of at least knowing a woman’s name before I pull her panties off.”

She blushes fiercely, biting her lip.

“It’s Cara.”

“That’s wonderful. What is it really?”

Her face reddens.

“Karen.”

“That’s one way to pronounce bullshit.”

Her lip twists in her teeth.

“Jes—”

“Such a pretty little liar,” I purr.

My fingers glide down over the front of her lacy panties, making her gasp as I move closer and closer to the pulsing heat between her thighs.

“Such a wet little liar too,” I growl.

“I—”

“Let’s stick to the truth.”

She swallows.

“Valentine.”

She says it Val-en-teen, and the sound of her name on her lips makes my cock throb. That’s it. That’s her name. That’s the name of the girl who’s going to be mine, and only mine. The girl who’s going to be my one and only, forever.

Like I said, one look, and I knew. Being this close to her and being this close to having her only cements that.

She’s it. My everything. My greatest heist.

And now she’s all mine.

“Valentine.” I let her name pour off my lips like silk as I smile.

“Of all the days to seal you away…”

She blushes, that lip that I’m about to taste twisting in her teeth.

And I did steal her away. And now, just like the necklace and soon the earrings, she’s mine.

My fingers tease up to the edge of her panties, and she shivers before her lips part.

“Wait…”

Easier said than done.

Somehow, I stop myself, every muscle in my body on edge as my fingers stall.

“Who are you?” She whispers.

“Dutch,” I growl quietly. “My name is Dutch, and princess?”

My fingers slide back up to the edge of her panties, and this time, I don’t stop myself. This time, my fingers pull them low, sliding under and pushing down over her mound. My fingertips brush across her soft, warm skin, her breath catching when they push lower over the wet, silken heat of her perfect—and I do mean perfect—little cunt.

“You’re mine.”

Valentine moans as my fingers drag down over her lips, until suddenly, they find two hard, rounded, marble-sized little baubles. And I grin.

“There,” she whispers huskily, panting. “You found them. Happy?”

“Very.”

She swallows, her tongue wetting her lips as she looks up into my eyes, so big and round and full of fire and uncertainty.

“Guess that means you’re done.”

It almost comes out as a question, my jaw tightens. My eyes burn into hers, and slowly, my head shakes.