Billionaire's Valentine_A Valentine's Day short story

by Gem Frost

  I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was kneeling over me, his eyes molten gold, his expression soft, and I saw that he wasn’t angry or annoyed with me for hesitating. He was allowing me to set the pace, to make the decisions.

  He was allowing me to be in charge.

  I swallowed, and decided to step off the cliff.

  “I want you to,” I answered. “Go ahead.”

  He let out a soft sigh. His fingers were slick with whatever he’d put on them—lube, I guess—and they moved against me, stroking the skin down there. I think it’s called the perineum? Anyway, he caressed me, gently at first, and then a little more firmly, and it felt awesome. My thighs relaxed, and I melted back against the sheets and just let myself enjoy it. It was pleasurable, but not so good it brought me to the verge of climax again. It was just… nice.

  Then his fingers slipped a little lower, and I jolted.

  “You okay with this, Val?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  It wasn’t so much fine as it was weird. It wasn’t as nice as having my perineum stroked had been. It felt kind of, I don’t know, irritating. My thighs tensed again, and I probably would’ve involuntarily pressed them together if he hadn’t been kneeling between them.

  “Relax,” he whispered, circling his fingers there.

  I tried. I really tried. But I didn’t much like it, and part of me—a large part—wanted to tell him just to go back to the stuff he’d been doing before with his tongue. That had been incredible.

  “It takes a little while to get used to it,” he said softly. He kept circling his fingers, but as if he’d read my mind, he lowered his head to my cock and started up on the licking again. I gasped and shuddered, and quit worrying about what he was doing at the back door. It didn’t seem all that important anymore.

  I stiffened up just a little when his finger slid inside me, but he focused all his attention on the sensitive head of my cock, and I kind of forgot to mind. Feeling my body stretch around his finger wasn’t actually that bad. In fact it was the most intimate thing I’d ever felt, and my hips started to move in spite of myself.

  “That’s good. You’re doing great, Val. You’re so hot. So beautiful.”

  His soft praise made something low in my belly melt. All at once I wanted more, much more, and I found myself writhing against the slippery satin sheets, whimpering.

  I could feel the stretch when he slipped a second finger inside, and at first it burned a little, but the burn was rapidly lost in building pleasure. He continued teasing the tip of my cock with his tongue, and the doubled sensations were almost too much to bear.

  I might be a virgin, but I wasn’t stupid, and I knew what this was leading up to—his cock inside me, fucking me. And I wanted it. I wanted it a hell of a lot.

  His fingers moved inside me, stretching me, readying me, and I heard a sound come out of my mouth that bore no resemblance to any sound I’d ever made before. I sounded like a wild animal, feral and savage… and hungry.

  He chuckled softly, and slipped in a third finger. I realized I’d been craving this, to be stretched more and filled more, and I moaned his name, my body shaking. I needed him, needed the feel of his body in mine, filling me, stroking me from inside.

  “Not quite yet,” he whispered.

  I whimpered, because really, what was he waiting for? This was the best thing I’d ever felt, and I wanted his cock inside me desperately.

  But then he crooked his fingers, and something very near ecstasy shot up my spine like lightning.

  The intensity of it was shocking, and I cried out. He did it again, and the pleasure zapped through me again. It was like being hooked up to a live wire—it made me jerk and twitch uncontrollably. Don’t get me wrong, though; it didn’t hurt in the least. In fact it was the purest and most intense pleasure I’d ever known.

  In some dim corner of my brain, I knew that he was stimulating my prostate. I’d never tried it myself, due to the unfortunate puritanical streak my mother had instilled in me, and all at once I realized I had really been missing out. This was incredible.

  He did it again, and again, and I felt the heat building inside me, felt it building to something so hot and powerful that I thought I might actually explode. I heard my own voice crying out, felt my hips jerking, but I was unable to stop myself. I’d lost control of my own body.

  At last he stopped, and withdrew his fingers from my body with a slick sound. I sobbed in disappointment.

  “I want to be inside you, Val,” he said, very softly. “Is that all right?”

  I nodded frantically.

  “Fuck yeah,” I gasped. “Do it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Blade

  Kissing Val, touching him, was as incredible an experience as I’d imagined it would be. He was so sweetly responsive, so eager. Even when he’d hesitated, it hadn’t lasted long.

  He lay there now, sprawled out on the red satin sheets, his body aglow in the light from the fireplace. His eyes were half-shut, his lips parted as he gasped for breath, and he looked like all he wanted in the world was to be fucked. His cock was swollen and pink, leaking so much that his lower abdomen was slick with it.

  I hadn’t touched myself, but my cock was throbbing, too. Bringing pleasure to this beautiful young man for the first time had fired me up in ways I’d never expected. Listening to him cry out, watching his body arch, seeing his face contort with pleasure—it was all driving me crazy.

  I found a condom and rolled it on, very carefully, while he watched avidly. Then I slicked myself up with lube, biting my lip against the pleasure. His eyes grew wide and intense, and I thought about just kneeling there and jerking myself off, while he watched. I thought about peeling off the damn rubber and stroking myself, until I couldn’t take it any longer and I shot my load all over his golden skin and his taut abs.

  But I couldn’t do that to him, not now that I’d brought him to this point. I knelt between his thighs again. He lifted his legs in an instinctive gesture of submission, and I leaned into him, pressing against the tender flesh of his virginal hole.

  He whimpered.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a noise of pleasure or alarm, so I hesitated there a moment, rubbing the head of my cock against him repeatedly, until he was writhing against me, clearly begging for it. And then, slowly, I flexed my spine and sank into him, just a bit.

  The sensation of that tight ring of muscle yielding to my invasion was exquisite. Part of me—a selfish part—wanted to thrust in, right now, and fuck him hard. But he was a virgin, and I couldn’t just ream him that way. So I hesitated there, letting him get adjusted to the feel of my cock, until he squirmed again in obvious eagerness.

  I let him have another inch or two. He lifted his legs higher, bracing his heels on my lower back, and it became easier to move inside him. I slipped in a little further, and at the same time I lowered my head and kissed him.

  I’d never really been one for kissing during sex. As far as I was concerned, kissing was kissing, and sex was sex. But for some reason, with Val, I wanted our connection to be as intimate as possible. So I kissed him.

  And he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back.

  I sank into him slowly, until I was balls-deep inside him. He was hot and tight, and I’d never felt anything as good. Sex had never felt like this before—not with Roger, not with anyone. This was new, and breathtaking, and wonderful.

  The intensity of it was almost more than I could bear. I pulled my mouth away from his and buried my face in his warm neck.

  “This is so different,” I muttered. “So different from…”

  His hand reached up, stroking my hair. “From Roger?”

  I nodded, keeping my face hidden against his throat. It was awful to bring up another man at a time like this, I knew, but somehow I needed to convey to him how much more this was. And yet I didn’t know how to say it.

  He didn’t sound upset. “How long did the two of you date, anyway?”
<
br />   “Three years. But he was always—”

  “An asshole.”

  Despite myself, I chuckled against his throat. “Yeah.”

  “But you loved him anyway.”

  I sighed. “I guess. But by the time I found him with that guy, I—I don’t know. I think whatever I felt for him was dead long before that.”

  Any affection I’d held for Roger had rapidly subsumed into disgust and rage and the desire for revenge. But when I’d seen him tonight, it had finally dawned on me that Roger simply didn’t matter to me anymore.

  “It takes a while to get over something like that, I think,” he said gently, stroking my hair.

  “Yes. But—” I swallowed, and struggled to get out the words I wanted to say. “I don’t want him, Val. Not any more. And… I didn’t ever want him the way I want you.”

  He brushed a kiss over my forehead, and then his hands slipped down to my ass, and tugged gently. My hips moved of their own accord, and I felt myself slide into him all the way. And as I did, I felt the tentative connection between us flare into life, becoming something deep and real and lasting.

  Once I was buried all the way inside him, I held still, shuddering as I fought for control.

  He brushed frantic kisses over my cheek. “Please, Blade. I need this. Please.”

  I wanted to go slow, but at his desperate plea, something inside me shattered into a million pieces. I pulled out, almost all the way, and then began thrusting, slow and steady, doing my best to hit his prostate. I knew I’d succeeded when he cried out again.

  I made love to him, reveling in the sensations of it—the way he cried out every time I struck his sweet spot, the ragged sound of his breathing, the way his body quivered beneath mine. The scent of his skin, salty but clean, like ocean air in the summer. The feel of his fingers clutching my back.

  It was all new to him, and somehow it all became new to me again, too. It was like this was my first time, like all these sensations were a complete novelty to me. The strangeness of it swept away my remaining restraint, and I moved harder, fucking him hard and fast.

  He wailed, his fingers digging into me so hard I was sure they’d leave bruises, and then his hips bucked beneath mine, and I felt his come spurting all over my abdomen, hot and wet. It sent me over the edge too, and I came, shuddering violently, as ecstasy shimmered through my nerve endings in a long, hot wash of release, wave after mindblowing wave of it.

  Afterward I collapsed in a heap next to him, feeling more drained than I’d felt in a long, long time. Val had somehow touched something deep inside me, something no one else had ever even gotten near. My soul, maybe.

  I tried to scoff at the absurdly romantic nature of that thought. It was Valentine’s Day, and somehow that had made me mushy. That was all it was. It wasn’t like I had any real feelings for this young man, after all. That was impossible.

  But then Valentine stirred sleepily beside me, nuzzled into my throat, and pressed a soft kiss against my jawline.

  And I knew I was lost.

  Chapter Nine

  Val

  The problem with a magical night is that when the sun rises, the magic fades away.

  The night I’d spent with Blade had been glorious, far more wonderful than I ever could have imagined. But the next day was an ordinary, mundane day. I clocked in at work, headed for the back room full of boxes, and began sorting through them, just as I’d done every day for a month.

  My life was exactly the same.

  But I felt different.

  It wasn’t just that I was sore—though I definitely was. Not in a bad way, just an I-got-fucked-into-the-mattress-last-night kind of way. Blade had been careful, but I could definitely still feel the imprint of his body in mine.

  But it was more than that. It was the strange conviction that I’d somehow been altered forever. Not because I’d lost my virginity, but because Blade had imprinted himself on more than just my body. He’d branded my heart and my soul, changing me irrevocably.

  Which sounded stupidly romantic and naïve, even to me. But it was the truth.

  After we’d made love—had sex, I mean, but it had felt like making love to me—we’d drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. I’d awakened by habit at seven, and in the dim gray light of the February dawn, I’d taken a long last look at him. In sleep he looked soft and vulnerable, and I wondered how I’d ever likened him to a raptor, or thought there was any hint of cruelty lurking in his eyes.

  Blade Harrington might be rich, but he was a guy, just like any other guy. He’d loved and lost, and it had hurt him, but it hadn’t made him cold or callous, only a little angry. He was still a basically decent man. A good man. A man I was proud to have been with, even if only for a night.

  I studied him for a long moment in the gray light, trying to memorize every line of his face. I knew that the magic spell had dissipated with the coming of the dawn, and that I’d probably never see him again, except for glimpses from afar. I mean, I wasn’t stupid. He was a billionaire and I was an intern. He was the prince and I was the scullery maid, and there wasn’t a chance in the world that he’d want to see me again. There was no glass slipper in this version of the fairy tale. There was only the real world, and in the real world billionaires and interns didn’t wind up together. They just didn’t.

  And that was okay. I only hoped I’d helped heal some of his pain, helped him forget about what Roger had done to him, helped him move on with his life. That was really all I wanted for him. Maybe now he could pick up the pieces of his broken heart, move forward, and find someone he could share his life with. Someone suitable—someone rich and handsome, who moved in the same circles he did. That would be enough for me.

  I knew I was lying to myself, that what I really wanted was Blade, now and forever.

  But I couldn’t have him, and I knew that, too. I squirmed out of his embrace and struggled out of the enormous bed, then bent down and brushed a kiss over his forehead.

  Then I turned my attention to the problem of what to wear. I couldn’t wear the tux home, since it was his, and getting back to my apartment buck naked was clearly not an option, even if it had been July instead of February. I rummaged quickly in the huge dresser, apologizing mentally to him for the intrusion, and swiped a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, hoping he wouldn’t mind too much. I found a pair of running shoes in the closet (which was as big as my whole apartment) and pulled everything on, then strode quickly out of the mansion.

  And if there were any tears in my eyes, I blinked them away so they didn’t fall.

  I called an Uber, got home, showered quickly, and changed into my ordinary cheap suit and badly knotted tie. And then I got in my crappy old car, drove to work, and went back to my everyday, humdrum life, cinders and all.

  It was almost lunchtime, and I was buried elbows-deep in a box, sneezing, when I heard the sound of a throat clearing behind me. I spun around, raising a cloud of dust.

  And there stood Blade, looking down at me with an inscrutable expression.

  I rose to my feet, suddenly conscious of my appearance. My suit, which was crappy to begin with, was covered with dust, and I was pretty sure there was a cobweb in my hair. But I refused to feel embarrassed about it. This is who Cinderella really is, I thought, lifting my chin. Not the princess in the gorgeous gown, but the girl who sweeps out the chimney corner. And if the prince can’t take any notice of her when she’s covered with soot—well, that’s his problem.

  “Good morning, Mr. Harrington,” I said.

  He lifted a supercilious eyebrow. He didn’t look like the man who’d clung to me last night during sex, vulnerable and almost fragile, but like the hard-as-nails billionaire who ran a vast company. “I really think you can call me Blade, all things considered.”

  I blew out a breath. “Blade. What can I do for you, sir?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at me. There was an icy light in his eyes, and once again I couldn’t help thinking of him as a haw
k. Predatory, dangerous, merciless.

  “You took something of mine last night,” he said coldly.

  I swallowed nervously. “Um, the shirt and sweatpants? And the shoes? I’m sorry, sir, but I thought—well, I had to leave the tux, and it was cold out, so…”

  “Not the clothes. Something much more valuable.”

  My chest tightened and my mind raced. What the hell was going on here, anyway? Had one of his servants stolen something, and he somehow concluded I was the culprit?

  I stiffened my spine and looked back at him, as coolly as I could manage. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, but I was determined not to show how badly I was rattled.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I have no idea what you mean.”

  Something softened in his eyes, and his mouth curved slightly.

  “You stole my heart, Valentine.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I instantly dissolved into laughter.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I gasped out when I could speak again.

  He looked mildly offended, though there was humor dancing in his eyes as well. “Not a good pick-up line?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Damn. Well, I’m out of practice.” His mouth curved in a grin, and the last of the ice melted out of his eyes. “The truth is, I actually came to ask you if you’d care to go to lunch, Val.”

  “Oh,” I said in confusion. “I’m not sure that’s—appropriate—or a good idea—”

  “Val.” He looked at me more seriously. “I like you. I like you a lot. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by telling you I love you after a single night, but—well, I think our relationship is worth exploring. Don’t you?”

  I wanted to shout yes! and fling myself into my arms, but I held myself back. Not only would it be undignified, but I’d get dust all over his nice suit. I tried to interject a note of logic. “But you’re—you’re Blade Harrington, and I’m only—”

  “You’re Valentine Wilson,” he said, his voice soft but intense. “And that’s enough for me, Val. Believe me, it is.”

  He held out his hand, and I only hesitated an instant before putting my hand into his.