CHAPTER 29
Petal
Zinovy will never know how desperate I am to be claimed by him and him alone.
To know I have a man so obsessed with me he’ll never try to bargain my body to anyone for his own benefit.
Feverish eyes, crazed with his overwhelming fixation, lock on mine.
He’s poised above the rise of my mons, hot breath teasing the short, trimmed curls that frame my sex.
“Nod your head if you understand. You are mine now, Petal St. Clare. Mine and only mine.” The last part is muffled as he buries his mouth between my legs, his tongue parting my lower lips without preamble. I nod.
“Then you are mine, as well, Zinovy Bayev. I won’t share you.” My tit for tat demand has him laughing manically without losing a heartbeat of rhythm as he bats at my clit with the tip of his tongue.
“As if any pussy as sweet as this one could ever exist in any universe,” he says.
The other morning taught him my most sensitive spots, as well as exactly how to play my body to extract orgasms from me.
He follows my skin as if it has a map, chasing me from peak to peak until the sheets beneath me feel damp with sweat and the slickness that flows from me like a faucet, thanks to his efforts.
My bones are liquified inside my skin by the time he pulls his face from between my legs. I’m starfished on the bed, my muscles so exhausted from the tremors and teeth rattling climaxes he dragged from me I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Do not sleep, my Petal. It is not time to rest yet. You must remind me to take it easier on you next time, but that does not mean you can forgo my ride.” He’s smiling at me even as he chides me.
“I don’t think I can move,” I whimper.
“Then allow me, malyshka.” He climbs up my body, kissing me languidly as though his molten-hot, velvet-over-steel erection isn’t throbbing against my tummy.
He throws himself onto his back beside me, then lifts me like a ragdoll until my body is aligned blanket-style over his.
My legs dangle on either side of his hips, my stomach and chest draped over the hard knobs of his abs.
I feel the hot bar of his long cock nestled against my backside, and for the first time in my life, I’m actually thinking about how exciting it might be to feel Zinovy there.
Not tonight, obviously, because wow, will it require a lot of prep! But one day, maybe.
His hands knead my backside, working himself between my cheeks in short thrusts, but I already know that’s not his plan.
One hand slips between us to guide him to my opening, and I try making my muscles comply with helping him.
Slowly, his fat mushroom head forces its way into my drenched channel.
Zinovy releases himself and grasps my hips to work me in sharp thrusts up and down on him, opening me with each downward press until he is fully seated inside me.
“My personal fuckdoll like this, are you not, moya malen’kaya pitschka? So good for me, taking every bit of me. Becoming mine forever this way,” he grits, the effort of holding me still taking its toll.
I’m finding my second wind, the pressure of him inside me winding me up, up, up.
My wiggles have the desired effect, and Zinovy begins bouncing me on his lap.
Each downward drop is met with his hips pumping up into me, the head of him dragging against my g-spot and nudging against my cervix.
White hot pain arcs through me with every deep thrust, but I’m powerless to resist flexing my legs and writhing to ensure it happens over and over again.
“Going to come in this tight cunt, little bird, until you overflow with me, and every man who breathes the same air as you will smell me on your for days.” Every word is matched by sharp drives into me, his left hand leaving my hip to press between my lower lips and pinch at my clit.
“Come with me, Petal Bayev. Come with me now,” he demands.
Hearing him call me by his last name unlocks a climax unlike any I’ve had in my life.
Wave after wave tears through me like a toy boat tossed and battered against a reef as the tide comes in.
With every clench of my body, muscles clamping and strangling at him where he’s buried inside me, I feel the hot spray of his cum doing exactly what he promised. Filling me up.
Once spent, he allows me to slump over him like a blanket once more, our hearts racing in tandem, and his hot exhales bringing shivers over my sweat-soaked skin.
“You called me Petal Bayev,” I broach, that unexpected moment taking even more precedence than the realization we didn’t discuss birth control.
“I did because that is your name,” he says, simply.
“Um, I think I would know if I changed my name, Zinovy. Especially if I changed it to your name.” Make no mistake, I wouldn’t be mad to be Mrs. Zinovy Bayev, but the whole ‘this is a legal situation’ thing means I can’t just decide I’m good with the idea and leave it be.
“You did not change it. I did. You have been Petal Bayev for weeks now. Did you not notice the title of the house changed from Petal St. Clare to Petal Bayev shortly after I purchased it for you? We are wed, though it is perhaps best if we have a ceremony at some point.” There’s no hesitation or apology in his tone.
He’s as calm as if he were reciting the playlist from his favorite album.
“You…you married me without my knowing? Without asking me?” Shock makes the words a shriek.
“I did. It was necessary to claim you in order to ensure your protection and to soothe the beast within me that would not rest until you belonged to me. We will have a fancy dream wedding if that is your wish. But I will not apologize for this, my Petal. Do not expect me to,” he says.
I reach into the depths of my irritation and find…
nothing. I can’t bring myself to be angry about what he’s done.
Just like everything else, forging a marriage certificate is so totally on brand for his specific variety of obsession that I find myself secretly turned on.
Zinovy is the absolute opposite of the people in my past, who have tossed me away or only cared for what I did for them.
He gives and gives to me, protecting and spoiling me.
“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to go about it,” I grump, theatrically rolling to his side and pretending to be upset. Just because it’s hot knowing he’s hyper-fixated on me doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy on him.
“You will see, my Petal. You will see what a good husband I am,” he swears, rolling until I’m pinned beneath him once more. “Starting now.”
He sets out to show me with his mouth and hands, yet again, exactly how right he is.