62. Petra
PETRA
“Run?” I blink in shock. Of all the things he could’ve said . . . “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“I want you to run, Petra. Run from me as if I were a monster chasing you. Run from me as if your life depends on it.”
“But—”
“And when I catch you,” he continues, “I want you to beg me. I want you to beg me not to take you, and I’ll take you anyway. I want you to beg me not to touch you with my beastly hands, and I’ll touch you anyway. I want you to plead with me to leave you alone, even knowing I never will.”
“Sin, that’s—” I stammer, blinking rapidly. I don’t understand. Why would he want me to run from him, to fight him, to tell him I don’t want him . . . when he knows all too well how much I do? How much my body aches for him?
“Don’t you see, Petra?” he says, taking a step closer.
His hand comes up to my chest and circles my neck, not roughly, but firmly.
“I’m fucked up. I am so fucked up. I can’t imagine taking you any other way than with you fighting me, hating me.
I want you to fight for your life—even while knowing you’re at my mercy.
“Does that disgust you? Does it scare you?”
“I just . . . I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” he whispers, caressing my cheek with his free hand while tightening the other slightly at my throat.
He brings me closer until his lips brush across mine.
“You awaken such a wild need in me, Petra. A need so raw, I don’t know how to control myself.
I don’t know how to stop myself from taking and taking.
I want to own you, even knowing that I don’t deserve you. ”
I’m still in shock over his demand. I keep wondering what prompted this. We were doing so well—he was opening up to me, being so gentle and comforting. And now he wants me to run away from him?
But as my thoughts continue to churn, it dawns on me that this isn’t the first time he’s exhibited similar inclinations. The first time he ripped the veil from my face . . . he did it because he wanted me to fight him, didn’t he? And the time he bartered for a kiss—he liked my reluctance.
He enjoyed it so much that he pushed the limits as far as he could.
And then there are the dreams—ones that walk a very thin line between consent and coercion. So many things happened between us in those moments that, if they had taken place under normal circumstances, I don’t know if they would have happened the same way.
Yet, I find that I don’t judge him for his requests. I don’t judge him for his behavior, because deep down, I can see where it’s coming from.
He still thinks he’s undeserving, doesn’t he?
He believes nothing will ever be given to him freely—not without something in exchange, not without him forcing the hand. That he’s not worthy of being given anything at all, so he can only take.
Well, if this is how he wants it to go, then I’ll indulge him—and hope that my submission shows him he can always take from me, and I will always give back.
One last look into his eyes, and I turn on my feet, dashing through the winding hallway of the subterranean home.
I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t even know how big this house is. Yet it’s the sound of sliding footsteps behind me that makes my heart race—and makes me curious to see where this is going.
Immediately, I know he’s not using his shadows to move around. He’s running after me.
Simply a man chasing his woman.
Am I disturbed for getting a thrill out of this? For loving the way I can’t predict what comes next—whether he’ll pounce on me in the next second, or whether I’ll get another few feet of distance before he does?
I don’t know. And that only makes it more exciting.
I run as fast as I can, looking for a place to hide. He’s behind me but not running at full speed, taunting me. Just as I turn the corner into what seems to be a bedroom, I find myself tackled to the ground.
He pounces on me, grabbing me midair and turning so that he bears the brunt of the fall as I crash atop him.
His skin is hot against mine, every inch of him pulsing with tension. He holds me tightly, as though letting go would undo him entirely.
Immediately, his mouth goes to my neck, and he bites the sensitive skin. I press my hands against his shoulders, pushing him aside, but that only serves to make him tighten his hold over me.
I struggle to get out and thrash from side to side, not knowing what’s going to happen. Yet at the same time, I feel completely safe in his arms.
His bite becomes more painful, and a pang of desire courses through me. I let out a deep moan as I arch under him, inviting him to take more.
He drags his teeth down my collarbone and to my breasts, where he once again wraps his lips against my flesh, biting so hard he draws blood. I shiver, the pain mingling with all those other foreign emotions forming inside me.
“So sweet,” he whispers against my skin. “You taste so sweet, my darling Petra. And you’re all mine.”
He continues his assault down my body until he reaches that private place between my legs.
I open wide for him, not caring about anything else in the world but his touch.
“Please,” I whisper. Yet he doesn’t do anything. He stares at me, needy and thrashing on the floor, as I wait for him to put me out of my misery.
“Beg,” he says. “Beg me, Petra.”
“What?” I whisper.
“Beg me to taste you. Beg me to pleasure you.”
I blink, a little unsure of myself, yet I see that if I don’t say anything, he won’t do it. He won’t do anything.
“Please, Sin,” I start. “Please, touch me. I’m begging you. Please.” I thrust my pelvis upward in an attempt to get closer to him, to get some relief from this hunger that’s developed inside of me.
He chuckles. “Where do you want me to touch you? Tell me, Petra.”
“Right there,” I say and point to the spot between my legs. “I need you there.”
“How much do you need me there?” he asks with a raised brow.
I can only manage one word: “Please.”
He smirks at me. “You need me that much?”
I gulp down and nod fervently. That spot between my legs is already wet and aching, and as I move my pelvis toward him, I try to get some friction to lessen the ache.
“Please, I need you to touch me there. Please,” I continue begging.
He smiles sensuously at me as he drags one finger along my folds.
“How do you want me to touch you? With my hands?” he says as he pinches that pleasure spot before going lower and inserting a finger inside me.
The sudden intrusion makes me flinch, but instead of drawing back, I push forward, needing more of him inside.
“Or do you want my mouth?” he asks.
“Both,” I whimper. “Mouth, please.”
He seems to be having fun at my expense, seeing how much I need him, how much I want him.
So this was his plan all along—he wanted me to be so mindless with pleasure, so needy, that I only care about one thing: his fingers on me, inside of me, his mouth on me.
His cock inside of me.
He pumps his finger into me a couple of times before withdrawing, leaving me bereft.
I clench my muscles, feeling the emptiness already, but it’s not for long before he grabs my buttocks with both hands and pushes my pelvis upward toward his waiting mouth.
He throws my legs over his shoulders as he buries his head between my thighs.
I let out a loud moan at the first contact of his mouth with my private part. He licks me thoroughly before wrapping his mouth around that pleasure bud, sucking it deeply, biting and nibbling until I am so far gone that I no longer have control over what I do or say.
I move wildly on the floor, seeking to grab onto something as the pleasure inside me builds and builds. My words, too, are a cacophony of unintelligible sounds as I strain to reach that much-awaited pinnacle.
And then his fingers are inside me again—two of them.
He pushes them all the way in, curling them around a hidden spot while sucking on me until I’m so mindless with pleasure, I cry out loud.
It’s an earth-shattering noise as I scream and shout and wail, tears streaming down my cheeks with the power of my release.
Just as I’m about to come down from the high, he lines his cock at my entrance, pushing in.
It’s tight, painful, and entirely not what I imagined.
It hurts far too much—though I should have expected it given his monstrous size.
“You’re so tight,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”
It’s so painful, I squirm back to try to get away from him. But there’s nowhere for me to run.
Even though everything in me screams to escape the pain, there’s also a part of me that wants this, that’s curious about it.
He pulls me toward him as he wiggles to get deeper inside, and then, in one swift thrust, he enters me all the way.
I cry out in pain.
He whispers, “Oh, look how good you’re taking me, Petra. Shh, my sweet girl. You’re mine now. You’re mine. Only mine.”
“It hurts,” I whimper.
“Just for a moment. You can take it, love. You can take me—all of me.”
“I—”
“Look,” he murmurs. “Look at us joined together. It’s me and you, Petra.”
I look down where we are joined together. He takes my hand and presses it between my legs. I circle my fingers around the base of his cock, feeling the way he’s buried inside of me.
“This is . . .” I gulp down, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.
“Wondrous,” he completes my sentence.
I nod, tears coursing down my cheeks.
“Ah, darling. I know it hurts,” he murmurs soothingly, his fingers wiping my tears away. “But there is beauty in pain, because this is something only I can give you. Only I can hurt you like this.”
“Do you . . . do you like hurting me?” I whisper.
“I only like it when you do. And you like it, don’t you, darling? You like the kind of pain only I can give you.”
As he speaks, he pulls back and thrusts into me again, harsher than before. I cry out, thrashing from side to side.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant.
My mark vibrates on my chest. There’s a searing sensation that spreads through my entire body.
He thrusts inside me again, each time getting deeper inside of me.
“Sin . . .” I whimper.
His hand presses on my breast, his fingers grazing over the mark on my chest. And as I gaze upon his own mark, I note an eerie glow. It’s a flashing red, glowing in tandem with mine.
It starts out with slow, languid strokes, and when all resistance falls away, he increases his speed.
He groans deep in his throat as he lays kisses all over my face and neck, his arms wrapped around me as he continues to make love to me in a way that is both tender and savage.
I embrace him, squeezing him tight as I hold onto him, pulling him close.
“I love you,” I whisper in his ear. “I love you so much, Sin.”
He lets out an anguished sound—one that is half disbelief, half wonder.
“Oh, my sweet Petra, I love you, too. I love you so damn much. I’ve loved you for so long,” he says between thrusts. “I never imagined” —he mutters in a ragged voice as he picks up his pace—“never imagined you’d be mine. That we would be like this together.”
We’re both a mess of limbs, our bodies wrapped together in a tight knot, our hot breaths mingling as he claims me time and time again.
By this point, the pain is just an echo. There is only the feel of him, hot and hard inside me.
It’s a completely new sensation as he touches places inside my body I never knew existed. And when I’m so wrapped in his embrace, the world falls away until it’s just the two of us.
Love and feeling. So much sensation. I don’t know where I begin and where he ends.
His movements grow frantic, and once more, I feel something build inside me—but this time, it’s different. A tension coils in my lower belly, yet it’s almost as if I don’t know how to grasp it, how to reach it.
“Sin,” I whisper. “I can’t . . . I need—”
“What do you need, Petra?” he asks huskily. “Tell me what you need, darling.”
“I don’t know—”
He sneaks his hand between our bodies and touches me there, circling that pleasure point once, twice, applying more pressure.
And just when I think I can’t take it anymore, the explosion comes—so much more intense than before, so much more powerful that I end up screaming, digging my nails into his back, scratching him and drawing blood.
“That’s it. Come with me,” he commands. “Come with me, my love.”
His movements become out of control as he chases his own high, and then it happens. He nestles his head between my breasts, biting my skin as he convulses around me. I feel his hot release coating my insides just as he lets out another shout of pleasure before going still again.
We’re both breathing heavily. I’m dazed, unable to concentrate on anything but the warmth he provides, the feel of his body glued to mine. So much emotion explodes in my chest right where that mark pulses with life—the living proof of our eternal bond.
He licks his way up my breasts, kissing me on the lips again.
Yet just as I think it’s over, that we’re both finished, I find myself flipped onto my stomach with him behind me, his hand in my hair.