I breathe out slowly and whisper, “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”
He looks at me. A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. We will.”
I believe him. For the first time in a long time, I believe him without a shred of doubt. If this is what rebuilding looks like, maybe it’s enough. Maybe, finally, we can stop running and start living.
I’m not sure which one of us starts the kiss. Maybe it’s both of us. A collision neither one could hope to stop.
Then Petyr angles my head just right, and our kiss turns filthy.
His mouth claims mine, hard and certain. His tongue licks inside, and suddenly, I can’t think anymore.
Everything else falls away. My mind scatters until there’s only the sound of our breathing and the press of his body against mine.
“You belong to me,lisichka.” His hands work fast on my clothes. “I’ll make sure you remember that.”
I couldn’t forget if I tried. Every touch of Petyr’s hands brands me his. He’s claiming me with every inch of his body, and God, I want him to. Want to be his. “Petyr?—”
“Say it,” he snarls. “Say you’re mine.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. “I’m yours.”
He flips me over like I’m a doll. One second, I’m straddling his lap, and the next, I’m belly-down on the mattress. The sheets are cool against my heated skin. I take a deep breath and try hard not to moan just from this.
I fail.
Petyr’s hands grip my hips and pull me back until I can feel the heat of his body behind me. His palms are rough against my ass. He’s yanking me all the way back into his lap.
I squirm, embarrassed, but he holds me there. “Stay still,” he commands.
Silently, I obey.
Then—
Crack!
His palm meets my skin in a slap. Not a cruel slap, but a loud, meatythwackthat vibrates straight through my ass.
It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing.
He’s spanking me.My cheeks—both sets—flush a deep crimson.He’s?—
I don’t get to think any longer. His palm comes down again, sharper this time.
I yelp and squirm. But when I stop to check in with what I’m feeling, I realize the sting isn’t quite as painful as I expected from the noise. Or rather, itis,but it’s a good kind of pain. It burns sweetly.
The ache blooms into warmth. Spreads through my body until I can hardly breathe. My pulse is racing. This should be humiliating, but all I feel is the thrill of not knowing when he’ll strike me next.
Slowly, my uncertainty turns into anticipation.
Petyr strikes me again. I squirm, but don’t try to move.
He makes a pleased noise in his throat. Then he leans close enough for his breath to brush my ear. “This is to teach you a lesson,” he rumbles. “Never run from me again.”
With my last scrap of lucidity, I think maybe Petyr and I should have another talk. The kind where I explain to him what “deterrent” and “incentive” mean respectively, and how he’s definitely mixing them up, because?—
Crack!His palm strikes me again.
Petyr makes another sound. Deeper, huskier. I have no idea how I must look to him, ass bare and up in the air, flushed six ways to Sunday and then some, but going by his reaction, he must like what he sees.
