Page 112 of Valen


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“Well, if it makes anyone feel better, I saw Billie on her way here too.”

“There are not enough crystals or good vibes to—“ Vi started, only cutting off when Gracie finally snapped and told her to ‘Shut up already.’

“Anyway. Happy housewarming,” Hope said, holding out a bottle of booze to me. “Are we… calling this a house?” she added.

“Oh, my God. Not you too,” Gracie said, looking like she was ready to pull her own hair out.

“I think you need this more than I do,” I told her, holding out the bottle to her. “It’s okay,” I added. “I know the place is rough. They’re not hurting my feelings. I wasn’t the one to fuck it up. But I’m going to be the one to fix it.”

“And by her, she means me,” Valen said, walking out of the front door with his white shirt smeared with dirt and sticking to his body with sweat.

I swear the need to have him, right then, right there, almost brought me to my knees.

“Not my fault you volunteered,” I said, shrugging.

“By ‘volunteered,’ you mean that Brooks made it part of our prospecting duties,” he said as he gave the girls a nod.

“Hey, it’s also not my fault that he likes me more than you,” I said, getting a slap on the ass for the comment. “How’s it going?” I asked, looking over when the Henchmen SUV pulled up.

Then there was Dezi.

With enough pizzas to feed a literal army.

“Lunchtime,” he called.

“It’s going,” Valen said. “I have to show you something we found in the basement, though,” he said.

“It’s black mold, isn’t it?” Layna asked, shaking her head.

“Or a pentagram on the floor from whatever hellbeast the previous owners conjured up to curse this place?” Vi added, getting a chuckle out of her brother.

“No pentagrams. Yet. We’ll be right back,” he said, leading me toward the house where he told the others that it was break time.

“Seriously. What is it?” I asked, stomach tensing as we went down the narrow stairs to the too-dark basement, the only working light being in a back corner, just a hanging bulb that swayed when someone walked on the floor above, giving the whole basement a serial killer den vibe.

He didn’t answer me.

Oh, no.

He grabbed the back of my neck, swinging me around by it to face him, and crashing his lips down on mine.

Hard.

Hungry.

Almost bruising in their intensity.

Sure, our friends and family were just a floor and half a front yard away. But neither of us could muster a fuck to give about that as our hands clawed at clothing, desperate to feel each other.

My shirt joined Valen’s on the filthy floor. It wasn’t long until my bra followed. Or both of our pants.

“Were you bending over all day to fucking torture me?” he growled as his hand slipped inside my panties, teasing up my cleft to find my clit, and working it relentlessly.

“I was weeding,” I said, letting out a small chuckle until I felt his fingers plunging inside of me, stealing all the humor and replacing it with hunger.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled as my hand awkwardly fumbled with his button and zipper before moving inside to grab his straining cock.

A growl escaped him as I started to stroke him, making his hand slide out of my panties just so he could rip the material away before slamming me back against the wall.

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