Chapter 42
PETYR
The drive home is hell. I can’t get her out of my head. Not the way she laughs at me when I’m too serious, not the way she looks when she’s underneath me, flushed and trembling, not the quiet moments when she forgets to guard herself. All of it churns in my chest like acid.
She’ll leave. That’s the deal. My brilliant fucking idea. One day, she walks out of my house, out of my bed, and I’m supposed to let her go. Like it won’t gut me.
“Fuck!”
My fist slams the steering wheel. The horn blares and a couple of passers-by turn with quizzical stares, but I don't give them the time of fucking day.
The stoplight turns green. The streets blur by, lights bleeding into one another.
I see her in every reflection, every shadow.
Her with some other man. Some faceless bastard laying a hand on her, making her smile the way she smiles at me.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. The thought alone has me vibrating with a rage I can’t leash.
I drag a hand down my face, forcing air through my lungs, but it doesn’t calm me. It only reminds me of how fucked I am. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to matter.
And now? She’s all I think about.
By the time I pull up to the house, my blood feels like it’s boiling. I shove the door open before the car stops rolling and stalk up the steps. Every stride is tight, controlled, like if I don’t keep myself moving, I’ll explode.
The bedroom door is cracked. A ribbon of soft lamplight spills into the hall.
I push it open.
And there she is. Curled beneath the covers, hair scattered across the pillow, lips parted. Sleeping like the world can’t touch her. My chest tightens, fists curling at my sides.
So small. So breakable. And she’s mine.
Whether she knows it or not.
As I stand there, the fury inside me shifts, mutating into something heavier. I promised her freedom. One day, I’m supposed to let her go. But watching her breathe, so close I could reach out and press my hand to her spine, I know the truth.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let her go.
I peel the covers back, and the warmth of her skin beckons me like a drug. I don’t ease her awake; I claim her, mouth hot and insistent against hers until she stirs with a startled sound. Her eyes flutter open, hazy, and I don’t give her a chance to ask why. I need her too much.
“Petyr…?”
My hands roam, urgent, stripping her out of the thin layers she wears like barriers. Fabric falls away, useless, until she’s bare in front of me, all soft curves and vulnerable lines.
I flip her easily, pressing her into the mattress before pulling her hips back, possessive fingers biting into her skin.
She gasps. The sound feeds the fire that’s been gnawing at me all night.
I spread her legs, free my cock through my zipper, and drive into her with a force that leaves no space for doubt.
Her breath hitches, then breaks into a moan as she meets me with the same hunger, as if she needs the roughness as badly as I do.
“Petyr,” she whimpers, voice muffled against the pillow, her hands clutching at the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered.
“Louder,” I order, thrusting harder, my hand sliding up her spine until I can fist her hair and drag her head back. “I want to hear you.”
Her cry fills the room, sharp and helpless, and it only drives me harder. My thumb trails down between her cheeks, pressing against the tight ring there. She stiffens instantly, a broken gasp escaping her.
“Relax,” I rasp. “Every part of you belongs to me.”
“God—” she shudders, biting her lip until I tug her hair again, forcing her mouth open. “Yes. Yours. Just… Don’t stop.”
The way she says it, desperate and wrecked, makes my chest clench. I press my thumb harder, slow circles until I feel her start to open for me.
“That’s it,” I growl. “Take me everywhere, lisichka. You’re mine to the bone.”
She nods frantically, pushing back against me, the sound of her cries mixing with the slap of skin. I lean back just long enough to grab the lube from the nightstand, keeping one hand on her hip so she can’t wriggle away.
“Don’t move,” I warn. “You disobey me, and I’ll start all over again. Understand?”
“Yes,” she breathes, trembling, but obedient.
The trust in her voice, fragile but real, tears at something inside me even as lust surges higher. I slick my fingers, slide one slow and deliberate against her tight little asshole, all while keeping myself buried deep inside her.
She sobs, twisting, but I hold her steady, kissing the back of her shoulder.
“Good girl,” I murmur, softer this time, but no less possessive. “You’ll take it for me. You’ll give me everything.”
I press a kiss between her shoulder blades, breathing hard, trying to leash the wildness that wants to tear through me. Despite the desperate need clawing at my insides to own her fully, I force myself to slow, to be careful.
My fingers work methodically, slick with lube, circling, easing her open bit by bit. She whimpers, clutching at the sheets, every sound ricocheting straight through me.
“Breathe for me,” I murmur, my voice thick with restraint. “I’ve got you.”
Her body yields gradually, and when I finally push into her ass, I grit my teeth against the sheer rush of it.
She’s tight, hot, gripping me in a way that nearly undoes me right there.
I still, fighting for control, giving her the time she needs to adjust. My palms stroke up her sides, grounding her.
She shifts back against me with a desperate little sound. “Petyr…”
That’s all it takes. I start to move, slow at first, deliberate. Each thrust pushes me deeper, her body molding around me until she cries into the pillow, trembling under the pressure. I pick up the pace, hips snapping harder, faster, more.
Her moans rise and rise. I lean forward, one hand sliding between her thighs to find her clit.
The reaction is instant. Her back bends, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as I work her with ruthless precision.
“Cum for me,” I growl, the command ragged with my own unraveling. “Now. I want to feel you.”
She shatters. The sensation drags me over the edge with her, and I drive deep one last time as everything inside me breaks loose. The world narrows to the pulse of her, the grip of her body, the sound of her crying out beneath me.
I collapse forward, chest pressed to her back, both of us shaking, sweat-slicked and raw. My hand stays on her hip, unwilling to let go even as the aftershocks leave me gasping for breath.
Inside her, around her, I feel whole in a way I can’t begin to put into words.
And I know, with brutal certainty, that I’ll never want to stop claiming her like this.