My Valentine's Virus

Level 6: Princess_User24

When I was in high school, I wrote fanfiction about Xalton and me. I know, cringe—but it was only once. Even in my wildest fantasies, nothing could have topped this.

I've peaked.

The only man I admired from my screen fingerbanged me so good and in public. I mean, curtain call, baby. There's no topping that.

With that in mind, I don't have to wonder what his touch feels like anymore. It's irreplicable. Powerful. If he asked me to get on my knees and suck him off, I would. Right here.

Xalton's hands rake through my hair, and I groan, returning from space. I grit my teeth when he fists my hair back. I moan from the feel of hot velvety lips licking and sucking my neck. He tastes it before sinking his teeth into me. I wince and writhe, but he wraps his overpowering body tight against mine. My breasts squeeze flush with his chest as I thrash from his mark. Hot stings bloom into pleasure. His rough bulge presses my clit through his clothing.

"It's too soon," I mutter, not understanding the tremble in my voice.

A hunger in his dilated pupils makes me still. The air between us does as well. A smile breaks on my lips as I sense an opening. Trained panic takes hold of my motions before I move. Shifting footing, I spin on my heel and grab his wrist with both hands.

Before my next action, he releases his grip, and I use that momentum to hightail it away to find the restroom.

I race to gather my thoughts as my heart pounds in my chest. I'm met with four other ladies inside. My shoulders ease, and I take in the gorgeous room. It isn't as massive or overwhelming as the rest of the school, but that doesn't deter it from making it as lavish as Buckingham Palace.

Pressing my back against the door for support, I huff. The movement pushes the strands of hair from my eyes, and I catch a whiff of something... intimate.

Instead of the cursed citrus scent, there's Xalton's honey bourbon and sex.

My face heats with each identifying inhale.

Before recovering from the high of Xalton Kaiser's legendary finger-fucking, I focus on a girl keeping a maroon stare over me by the mirrors.

Stunning platinum blond hair waves down to her waist in two tendrils by heavily pierced ears. Her dark eye makeup looks professionally applied and is an opposite contrast to her porcelain skin.

With an air of confidence, her perfectly manicured hand rests flat over her uniformed chest.

"Is everything fine, my dear?" she asks with a sharpness cutting through the air. Her accent reminds me of my Queen's-English-bred grandmother on my mother's side.

"Uh... yes, why?" I race a reply. My smile must have given my first impression as ditzy. But it's not directed at her. Every part of me still shakes with humiliation... and bliss.

She cocks her head, studying me with a narrowed glare. It's like she'd scoop out every detail of my face to memorize. "Because... you smell like one of those little piggies," she giggles. "You know. The ones that fled from the big bad wolf about to blow their house down." Her words drip with malice, and her venomous smile twists upward.

The other girls leaning by the wall next to her burst into laughter. Their taunts ricochet off the stone walls, making my organs churn. A pang of hurt causes me to recall they were the ones trying to get under my skin in the auditorium—well, trying to.

I gather my composure, refusing to let their projecting words affect me.

My ego wouldn't stand for it.