Chapter 22 Instinct and Confession
Valentina’s POV
I stride into the clubhouse, shopping bags in hand, the air still heavy with the scent of leather and last night’s smoke. My boots echo down the hall as I head straight for my room. I barely cross the threshold before a pair of arms snatch me from behind my bags spill to the floor, forgotten. My back slams against the wall, my nose nearly colliding with the drywall, but my hands shoot out in time, bracing for the impact.
Without thinking, I lash out-my foot kicks hard behind me, connecting with solid muscle and a muffled grunt. Spinning, I drive my heel in a wide arc. My heart lurches as my kick lands squarely on the side of Killian’s face. He drops with the weight of a falling tree, stunned.
“Oh, my God! Killian!” I drop to my knees beside him. He groans, cradling his jaw with one hand, the other pressed to his temple.
“Damn, baby,” he mutters, shaking his head as if to clear the fog. “And here I was, thinking I’d get to punish you with a well-earned spanking.”
My breath comes quick, guilt mixing with adrenaline. “I’m so sorry. Instinct took over-I didn’t know you were here.”
He grins despite the pain, eyes bright with mischief. “Guess that’s what I get for trying to surprise you. There goes my master plan to put you over my knee for scaring the hell out of me.”
“Scaring you? How did I manage that?”
He sits up, rubs his neck, then pulls himself to his feet. “Valentina, when I saw you with those Ravager women, I lost my mind. Real fear, not just nerves. The Ravager men-those bastards don’t blink at selling a woman like you. You’d fetch them a fortune, and they wouldn’t think twice.”
I take his hand, squeezing tight. “Killian, you know I can handle myself. Giuliana and I-this is what we’re trained for. We’re the best in our business. People call us the killer twins, even if we’re nothing alike and ten years apart. Dad set one rule for us: never take a job alone. We only work together. Even the mafia’s hired us without realizing it. It always cracks us up, fooling them.”
He sighs, worry still etched across his face. “I know you’re capable, baby, but I’m still going to worry. I need to know what you and Gia are planning for the Ravagers.”
I harden my voice. “No.”
He bristles. “Valentina!”
“No, Killian. You won’t like it. If you know, you’ll try to stop me. The club is counting on us. I can’t let Blaise down. He’s like a second dad to me.”
Killian bursts into laughter, shaking his head, and I frown, confused.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
He smirks. “Blaise would probably run for the hills if he heard you call him that. Trust me, the first time he saw you, he wasn’t thinking fatherly thoughts.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I look away, embarrassed, but Killian’s mood shifts. He steps closer, his arms
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< Chapter 22 Instinct and Confession
winding around my waist, pulling me against him.
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“Slate says we need to communicate better. He’s right. I should have told you I had to run an errand instead of just leaving. Next time, I’ll wake you, let you know. But babe, I need you to tell me, too, when you go somewhere. Let’s not keep each other in the dark.”
He dips his head, mouth brushing mine, and I melt into him, arms sliding around his neck. I lose myself in his kiss, the aftertaste of adrenaline fading into something sweeter.
I press myself against him, letting my body speak for my apology. He staggers back, laughter teasing his lips until the bed catches his knees, and he tumbles down, sprawling before me. I waste no time- my hands make quick work of his belt, his jeans, hungry to free what I crave most.
His cock springs into my palm, hot and hard. I wrap my fingers around him, pumping slow. His voice is a hoarse whisper, thick with longing.
“Babe…”
I hush him with a glance, then kneel, lips brushing over his crown. My tongue circles, teasing, then flattens for a long, languid lick. I take him in-deep, greedy, swallowing him in one go. He groans, jaw slack.
“Fuuuck, Valentina-just like that.”
His hands tangle in my hair, guiding, demanding. He’s rough now, and I love the loss of control. He shoves me down until I choke on him, his hips snapping up, filling my throat. I hum, and the vibration makes his whole body shudder. He’s relentless, using my mouth, thrust after brutal thrust. I suck hard, rise for air, then drop again, open and eager. His grip tightens, and with a ragged cry, he holds me there and spills himself-hot, salty, and endless-down my throat.
“Take it. Don’t waste a drop, you filthy girl,” he growls, voice gone dark with lust.
His words go straight to my core. I’m soaked, writhing, desperate for friction, grinding against empty
air.
He grins, breathing hard, and pulls me up onto his lap. “My girl’s all riled up,” he purrs. “Let’s get you
naked.”
He strips me quick-tank, shorts, bra, thong-tossed aside in a flurry. With a swift move, he flips me beneath him, his fingers sliding straight between my thighs. He plunges in, two, then three fingers, slick and relentless, and my back arches helplessly.
“Fuck, Angel, you’re dripping for me. Listen to how greedy your pussy is-so damn needy.”
The sounds are obscene, his fingers working me deeper, faster. Shame is nothing compared to how badly I want him.
“Killian,” I whimper, voice raw. “Please, I need you.”
He leans in, teasing. “What do you want, baby? My cock buried deep, or my mouth making you come-
over and over?”
“Yes-both. Please,” I beg, lost in the heat of it.
He laughs-a dark, wicked sound-and keeps his fingers moving as his lips trail down, teeth grazing my nipples, tongue flicking, sucking. My body bows, desperate for release, but he holds me on the
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edge, denying, teasing, until I’m trembling, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. When his mouth finally closes over my clit, I nearly sob.
“Please, Killian, make me come. I need it, I need you, please-”
He pauses, mouth hovering, voice smug. “You think bad girls get to come, angel?”
I snarl, frustrated. He laughs-actually laughs at my desperation.
I buck my hips, grinding on his hand, chasing friction. His tongue draws slow, torturous circles on my clit. I’m crying now, begging, incoherent. He rises to my face, fingers plunging, relentless, sweat slicking my skin. He kisses away my tears.
“Are you finally going to communicate, Valentina? No more running off without a word. No more games. Promise me.”
His thumb presses hard on my clit, fingers curling just right inside me. I explode, a scream tearing from my throat.
“Yes! Yes, I promise!”
He pulls his fingers free and claims my mouth, swallowing my cries. Then he’s inside me, thrusting hard, deep, relentless. Another orgasm hits, sudden and wild, and I gush, drenching us both.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck, I love when you soak me. You’re a fucking dream, Caterina-my Valentina, my
slowing his hips, the frenzy melting into
wild thing, my Vandal Angel. I love you,” he murmure
something softer, deeper. He rocks into me, each movement sending aftershocks through my body, until he shudders and groans, finding his own release.
He buries his face in my neck, breath warm. “I love you, Valentina.”
I cling to him, whispering his true name. “I love you, Axel.”
He trembles at the sound. I love every fractured, possessive, gentle part of him. Nothing could ever change that. Axel Vex Calder-Killian-is the center of my world. For him, I’d burn everything down.
I don’t yet realize how soon that promise will be tested.
