“Goddamn, Valentine, you're not holding out on me anymore,” he growled, then bit down on the top of her breast. She let out a shriek and her thighs started to tremble.
“Ari, I'm ... I'm ...”
I'm gasping for air and there's no oxygen and I always forget how he steals it all.
“So fucking close, I can feel it,” he whispered, moving his mouth to her ear, catching her earlobe with his canine tooth.
“Yes,” she whimpered, coiling her arms around his shoulders, tightening her legs around his waist. “So close.”
“I've been dreaming about this. Praying for this,” he sighed, slowing his thrusts, but not losing any depth or power. Every time his hips met hers, she swore she could feel his dick interfering with her breathing. She shrieked in time to those thrusts.
“Fuck, that's it, I can't -”
She shrieked in earnest when the entire world tilted. At first she thought he was dropping her, but then she realized he was laying them down on the floor, her head at the base of the padded wall. She groaned when her shoulders came into contact with the cold floor, but was soon shouting again when he began thrusting once more.
“You can,” Ari assured her, and she felt his fingers between their bodies, slip sliding around where he was pounding into her. Pinching and rubbing and caressing.
Her entire body started to shake.
“I will,” she assured him, her voice a high pitched whine. She clawed at the padding above her head, trying to get away from the sensory over load. And from the wall across from them, the flashes started going off once again.
“Jesus, I'd forgotten how fucking beautiful you are like this,” Ari breathed, and he moved away from her, standing up on his knees so he could look down at her body.
“Fuck, I'm coming, Ari. I'm going to come.”
At that statement, he leaned down close, his lips once again at her ear.
“How beautiful you are always.”
Valentine screamed when she came, her eyes squeezed shut so tightly, she couldn't even tell when the last two flashes went off. Hell, a bomb could've been dropped on top of them, and she probably wouldn't have noticed. She was just raw nerve endings and waves of incredible pleasure and feelings of satisfaction that she hadn't even realized she'd been missing.
This whole time, I didn't feel wanted. A different guy to dance with, talk with, flirt with, every single night, and none of them made me feel wanted. Fifteen minutes with his guy, and I've never felt so wanted in my life.
Valentine sobbed as the orgasm crested and fell away, then doubled back into a tidal wave and crashed over her body once again. Ari's hands were on her hips, his grip bruising, holding her tightly as he physically pulled her into his thrusts. She covered her face with her hands, screaming into her palms while he came with such force, she could feel it inside herself.
Ari let out a shout, hitching his hips in tight to hers, his cock pulsing and throbbing. Then he was collapsing on top of her, his breath hot against her dewy wet chest. They both fought for air, trying to remember how to breathe. Or figure out if they were even able to anymore.
Valentine wasn't sure how long they laid like that for; enough that she started to shiver as her skin cooled down. When Ari finally pulled away, she adjusted her dress, pulling it back to rights and covering her chest up.
By the time she stood up and was scooting the skirt of her dress back down her legs, Ari was standing with her, putting his belt back together. Sticking out the top of one of his pockets were three photo strips. Valentine reached for them, but he pushed her hand away.
“We'll look at them together,” he informed her, then he scooped his heavy jacket off the floor. He placed it around her shoulders, ran his fingers through his hair one last time, then opened the door so she could walk through it.
The loud techno music and hyper crowd brought Valentine a little bit back to her senses. She'd just had sex. Nasty, hot, raunchy, quickie sex, with nothing more than a door separating her from the rest of the club.
An unlocked door.
I swore I'd never do something like that again, and here I am, doing the same fucking thing, with the same fucking guy.
As if he could tell the direction her thoughts were headed in, Ari grabbed her arm and practically yanked her across the floor. They hurried through the Music Room, both Bailey and Evans giving them an interesting look as they passed. When they finally got to the stairs, though, Ari slowed to a stop. Flourescent lights rimmed the walls there, and he stood close to one, leaning in to use the light to look at the pictures. Valentine squeezed in close, biting her lip and wondering just how embarrassed she was about to be. As he held each strip up, though, Valentine was surprised. She didn't feel embarrassed at all.
The camera was up high enough that all the pictures were from about butt height and up. Ari's back had been to the camera the whole time, his loose jeans and t-shirt covering him up. Valentine's legs were visible around his waist, as were her head and shoulders and arms, but his torso always covered her own, so there was no nudity.
There was just Valentine, her head tilted to the side, teeth biting into her bottom lip, an arm stretched above her head. There was just Ari, his head almost reverentially bowed to her chest while her fingers were speared into his hair.
It didn't look nasty, or hot, or raunchy.
It looked ... like he was worshipping her. Like she'd been gone for far too long, and he was welcoming her home in the best way he knew how.
“I'm keeping these.”
His low voice broke the spell the pictures were weaving, and she glanced up at him. He was staring at the photos, almost glaring, his gaze intense. Before she could argue or comment or say anything, he was pulling her around to face him. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but he didn't actually touch her. He pulled his wallet out of his inside pocket and opened it, then delicately dropped the strips alongside the cash in the long pocket. She was glad he used a flat wallet instead of a bill fold, so the pictures wouldn't get damaged.
“I want copies,” she informed him, and his eyes finally met hers.
“I'm surprised. The Saint Valentine I remember could be shockingly modest,” he teased, pulling his jacket tight around her.
The familiarity was a little too much, too soon. Valentine wasn't sure what had just happened, but she knew it wasn't what he was thinking. They were not back together. She couldn't allow that, not now, and probably not ever.
If he could hurt you once, he could hurt you again.
“That saint has left the building,” she forced out a laugh as she shrugged out of his jacket. “And this saint needs to get back to work.”
“Are you serious right now?” Ari asked, taking his jacket when she handed it to him. She nodded and smoothed her hands over her dress, trying to get rid of any wrinkles or creases.
“Don't worry, we'll call that one a freebie,” she tried to joke.
He didn't laugh.
“No shit – I don't have to pay for your time anymore,” he informed her, as if it were a given.
“No,” she agreed. “You don't. Because I'm not for sale to you. When should I be at work tomorrow?”
Ari looked mad. It sent a shiver down her spine and she wished she hadn't given back his jacket.