Page 74 of Cruel Romeo

“Fuck me.” I’m practically begging at this point, but I don’t care. “Please, just fuck me already.”

He hisses into the crook of my neck. His cock twitches against my thigh.

Before I can think better of it, I reach out to stroke it.

Petyr’s muscles lock around me. For a moment, I’m terrified I’ve done something wrong. Grabbed him too hard, too fast. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“Is that bad?” I start to pull my hand away, but Petyr’s fingers close around my wrist like steel.

“No,” he rumbles. “It’s not.”

I stroke him again. Once, twice, feeling the sheer length of it, the girth. It’s so big, I can’t wrap my hand around it fully. Will it really…?

“It’ll fit,” Petyr promises, as if reading my mind. “You’ll take all of it, little fox. I’ll teach you how.”

My mind goes cloudy. “Teach me now,” I whisper.

For once, Petyr doesn’t make me beg.

He pulls one of my legs over his shoulders, then lines the tip up to my entrance. “If it’s too much, you tell me,” he says as if he’s setting down a rule. “If it’s too fast, you tell me. If it hurts at any point?—”

“I’ll tell you,” I breathe. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Damn. Where’d that come from?

Before I can let myself linger on the praise kink I think I might be developing, Petyr grabs my hips. “I know you will,” he murmurs, hot and low.

Then he’s pressing up into me, and thoughts become a distant memory.

I hold my breath as I feel him breach me. Inch by inch, so slow I could cry. He’s giving me time to adjust, I know, but the slower he goes, the longer he drags against my oversensitive walls. Does he have any idea how maddening that is? How overwhelming it feels?

“Petyr…” I moan.

His hips roll to a stop halfway into me. “Fuck. You feel like heaven.”

Then fuck me already!

But my mouth is dry cotton. I can’t speak, can’t string together a coherent sentence. All I can do is look hazily up at Petyr, all muscles and sweat and dark, dark eyes, and feel the pleasure roll through me.

“More,” I beg.

Petyr’s pupils eat away at the burnished gold of his irises.

He doesn’t make me ask twice.

He leans over me, braced on either side of my face. One of his hands slides slowly back to my bent thigh, prying it open. I had no idea it was possible to be stretched so wide, be so full.

When he’s finally rolled all the way inside me, I’m stunned at how little it hurt, if at all.

“Last chance to back out,lisichka.” He grinds out those words like it costs him.

I get it. Because if he stopped right now, I might just fucking die, too.

But I can’t do words, so I show him instead.

I roll my hips once, twice. By the third time, Petyr’s eyes are completely black.

“Please,” I whisper.