PETRA #3
“This is perfect. It’s so good—” My head falls back as my mouth opens on a soundless moan. His thumb is on my clit, rubbing it, pinching it. “Harder. Make it . . . hurt.” I’m shocked by my words, but there is something so deeply erotic about mixing pain and pleasure, so carnal and primitive.
He doesn’t seem surprised by my request. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he trails his lips down my neck, kissing the sensitive area before biting me. Hard.
“Ah,” I groan, arching into him. His teeth penetrate my skin until he draws blood, and somehow that only makes me wetter.
“Mine,” he murmurs. “You’re mine, Petra. My woman. My fucking sanity.”
“Y-yes. I’m yours. Only yours.” The declaration escapes me instinctively, and as I taste it on my lips, I realize how right it feels.
“And I’m yours. Only ever yours. Don’t ever doubt that.” He leans back just enough so I can see the sincerity in his eyes. “Never anyone before you, never anyone after you. Only yours,” he mutters, his voice dripping with primal lust and . . . something more.
He licks the drops of blood before going lower. Pressing a tender kiss to my stomach, he hikes my legs up onto his shoulders before he buries his face between my thighs.
True to my request, he makes it hurt. Ah, but he makes it hurt so good.
He nibbles and bites on my clit until a galaxy explodes before my eyes.
I’m so wet and growing wetter, and with each stroke of his tongue followed by a hard bite of pain, I find myself falling over and over, a multitude of mini-orgasms exploding within me in quick succession.
“More?” he asks with a wicked grin as he gives me one more lick.
I dig my nails into his shoulders and grab him forward, smashing my lips against his, tasting myself in the kiss.
“More. Everything. Give me everything,” I beg.
The ache in my sex grows more intense as I wrap my legs around him. Instinctively, my hands hold his buttocks and pull him closer, as if to show him how much I wanted to be penetrated, to be fucked.
He smirks at me as he fists his cock, dragging it over my folds and coating it in my wetness. The head of his cock brushes against my too-sensitive clit, and the merciless assault on my senses begins anew.
“Please . . .”
“Patience, my love,” he whispers.
“Sin, please. I need you. I need—” I moan out loud, inching my hips even closer to his, eager to be filled, to be completely ravished.
Sin pushes into me in a swift thrust.
My eyes roll back at the feeling of being stretched and filled, his cock throbbing inside me as he starts moving.
Pain and pleasure.
Pleasure and pain.
And everything in between.
I grab and scratch at his lower back, locking my legs over his ass as I tilt my pelvis so he can sink deeper.
He lets out a harsh moan as he wraps one hand around my throat, his thumb slipping inside my mouth just as he retreats and slams into me again.
I suck on his finger, my gaze meeting his rapt one.
His thrusts are harsh, punishing, as if he’s exercising some hidden anger on me. And here I am, loving every second of it.
Soon, the air is filled with our breathy moans and gasps.
“So hot,” he manages to gasp out between thrusts. “You’re so fucking hot. I need you so badly. So fucking badly.”
“You have me,” I say but somehow the words come out mangled and breathless, scattering away under the heaving grunts issuing from both our mouths.
Just then, Sin shifts position and spreads my legs wider, effectively pushing even deeper inside me.
“Come for me, love. I need to see your beautiful face when you come undone.”
By now, I’m close to the edge, and this final thrust sends me over it.
The waves of pleasure thrum over my legs, starting from somewhere deep inside and rippling through my insides. I cry out at the never-ending release, tears flowing down my cheeks. My muscles tighten around his cock as I rotate my hips, needing to pull him over the edge with me.
Sin lets out a harsh groan as his warm release coats my inside.
He collapses next to me, careful not to crush me, and he gathers me in his arms, his hands resting on my belly. I can barely keep my eyes open, but the last thing I hear before a dreamless sleep engulfs me is Sin’s voice.
“Oh, Petra, you’re so beautiful, so achingly beautiful . . .”
The next morning, I wake up to the soft light of the Victorian lamps mounted over the bed. When I roll around and find the space next to me empty but still warm from Sin’s body, I sit up in distress.
But almost immediately, I notice a note left on the pillow beside me:
Petra,
I had to step out for a little to check up on my sister. I’ll hopefully be back before you wake up and bring some food. Rest well, sweetheart. You deserve it.
P.S. I can still smell you on my skin. Best perfume I could ever ask for.
Yours,
Sin
And though I’m put out at being left alone the day after our first proper sexual encounter, the message comforts me, and I lie back down, pulling the covers around me.
Memories of last night are forever etched in my mind, and as the images of our entangled bodies flood my inner eye, I feel a shiver run through my limbs.
This is what all the fuss is about, I think briefly, pleasantly, before drifting back into a mellow spell of slumber.
Yet the echo of one word resounds in my mind, even as sleep claims me.
Yours.