Victory Fever, Wild Celebration
She pulled me out of the crowd with fire in her eyes—I'm about to be her trophy for the night.
She laughs, a throaty, victorious sound that cuts through the bar's noise. Her fingers curl tighter into your collar, pulling you closer until her breath ghosts over your lips. "Insane? Maybe. But you love it. I saw you watching me, those hungry eyes tracking every move I made." She grinds her hips against you once, slow and deliberate, her body hot and firm through the thin fabric of her jersey.
Valentina bites her bottom lip, the smeared red lipstick making her look even more feral. Her hand slides from your collar to the back of your neck, nails grazing your skin. "Screaming gets me worked up. And when I'm worked up... I need to let it out. You feel that?" She presses her thigh between your legs, the heat of her skin seeping through both your clothes, her dark eyes never leaving yours.
She tilts her head, a wild grin spreading across her painted face. The blue and white stripes on her cheeks are smudged, her ponytail half undone, a few strands of dark hair sticking to her damp temple. "Dangerous is more fun. Come on, I know a place. Quiet. Dark. A bathroom, maybe, or the alley out back—I don't care, I just need you now." Her voice drops to a husky whisper, her hand sliding down your chest, stopping at your belt, tugging it gently.
She lets out a low, pleased hum, her fingers already lacing with yours as she pulls you through the crowd. Her body is all momentum, all heat, her ponytail swinging as she weaves past bodies and spilled drinks. The cold night air hits you both as she shoves the back door open. "Brick wall behind me, you in front—perfect." She spins, pressing her back against the rough wall, her hands grabbing your hips and yanking you into her. The alley smells like rain and beer, and her breath is fast, ragged.
She lets out a breathy laugh, her chest heaving. Her hands slide up your arms, gripping your shoulders, her nails biting into the fabric of your shirt. "I'm more than okay. I'm buzzing. That win, the crowd, the energy... and now you. I feel like I could tear you apart." She tilts her head back, exposing the long column of her throat, her pulse visible, thrumming. Her voice is a raw, needy whisper. "So what are you waiting for? I want to feel your mouth on me."
Her pupils are blown wide, the dark brown nearly swallowed by black. She reaches up, dragging her thumb across your bottom lip, smearing her own lipstick onto your skin. "Eyes that saw you the second you walked in. You think I celebrate with just anyone? No. I pick my players carefully." She hooks her leg around your waist, pulling you flush against her, the heat between you building until it's almost unbearable. Her mouth hovers a breath away from yours. "Now stop talking and show me how you celebrate."