Page 30 of Puck Me, Valentine
“Don’t call me that. I’m sick of the condescending ‘sweetie.’ I hate it. Stop it. I know you think it’s some clever way to dismiss me, but I’m done hearing it. Just stop.”
To my utter shock, Devlin flinches. His dark eyebrows knit together, and his eyes drop to my lips.
Under the dim glow of the nightlight, his pale skin suddenly darkens.
Is Devlin Bower…blushing?
The star of the hockey team, the brutal machine who fears nothing, is flustered. My heart triples its pace. I’ve lost it. I am officially, dangerously in love with this man.
“Okay, whatever you say,” Devlin replies. His tone is dry, but the red staining his cheeks tells a different story. “Only… that’s not exactly dismissive.”
“Not dismissive?” I ask, breathless.
He jerks his head up, pinning me with an intense stare. “You’re sweet, Val. Ineverything. Even when you’re angry. I accidentally called you that for the first time… to your face. I didn’t think I’d say it out loud.”
My stomach flips. “Then why are you saying… that nothing’s going to happen today?”
The vulnerability in the room vanishes instantly. Devlin’s face hardens into stone. He withdraws, his expression becoming stern and icy. “Because it’ll be better that way. Go to bed.”
“No way. I’m not taking orders from you,” I snap, the rejection stinging. “Anyway, I’m glad nothing’s going to happen. I think we’re done with this. Leave.”
I try to brush past him to the bed, but he blocks my path, his chest a barrier I can’t move.
“I’m hanging by a thread, Val,” he says, his voice dropping into a hoarse, guttural rasp.
“That’s your problem,” I snort.
I pull a clever move—faking a step to the left, then darting right, climbing onto the bed with the agility of a biologist used to catching escaped hamsters.
Devlin staggers, his own momentum carrying him the wrong way for a split second. He looks at me from the floor, his eyes narrowing.
“Now it’s your problem, Val,” he murmurs.
He lunges.
His hands catch my hips, dragging me toward him.
In one fluid, brutal motion, he rips the towel away. I gasp, my skin baring to the cool room, but I don’t feel the cold for long.
His mouth is on my shoulder, kissing me roughly, his teeth grazing the skin.
“You can do whatever you want, Val,” he rasps, his voice dropping into that dark, terrifying register. “But I’m going to do exactly as I see fit. And right now? I see fit to do this.”
I’m halfway through a scathing remark about his bossy streak when the world tilts. His hand slides down, his palm hot and calloused as it closes around my cock.
Everything disappears. There is only the sensation of his calloused palm, the expert rhythm of his stroke, and the way his mouth worships my skin.
I arch my back, pressing myself fully against the solid muscle of his chest, a broken moan escaping me.
“I never believed I’d see you like this,” he whispers darkly.
I’m on the verge of shattering, my breath coming in jagged hitches, when he suddenly shifts me.
He makes me get down on all fours on the mattress.
Shame flares for a microsecond—I feel so exposed, so vulnerable—but it’s drowned out when I feel his hot breath between my thighs.
Devlin begins licks my hole.
