Page 41 of Fallen Petal

I mewl in pain when he drags me across the room, barely looking at me as we approach the bed.

“You’ll have to be strong today, Petal.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, only worsened by the way he looks at me when we come to a halt at the foot of the bed. He looks just as impeccable as always, dressed to the nines, his hair kept in place with gel, his strong jaw neatly shaven—but the expression on his face looks strained, more so than it ever has before.

“Did something hap—”

“Hush,” he cuts me off, undermining his command with a demanding kiss. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and so tight in his embrace I can barely breathe. His craving is apparent in the way he devours me, giving meaning to the phrase of eating someone alive. His tongue attacks mine so voraciously that I find it impossible to keep up. I can’t move, I can’t breathe. I can only feel him and take in his delectable taste, relishing the way my heartbeat rises in delight and not fear before my vision turns blurry from lack of oxygen.

I squirm in his arms, trying to come up for air. When he finally lets me, he only does so for a few brief seconds, putting just enough distance between us so I can breathe, before he hooks his hands under the neckline of my gown. The backs of his hands meet right at the middle between my breasts, only resting there for a moment before he pulls them apart in one quick yank, ripping the white silky gown from my body.

“Get on the bed. On your back. Face me.”

I comply on instinct, my eyes locked on to his as I climb on top of the mattress, while he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Spread your legs, offer yourself to me,” he hisses under heavy breaths. “Play with yourself.”

I’m torn between subtle fear, the kind that’s always there when he is with me, and the hot throbbing that dictates my center as I follow his orders. He peels himself out of his clothes in a hurry, almost tearing his outfit apart as he did with my gown. His eyes are on me the entire time. I can relate to the hunger on his face, feeling it run through every fiber of my body as well. My heart races, sending hot rushes of lust to my core while I watch him undress. My hand moves where he wants it, the tips of my fingers met with a clear telltale of my arousal.

“Yes, good,” he breathes, nodding with approval as he exposes himself in front me. He is rock-hard, the head of his length dripping with precum when he steps closer. He wraps a hand around himself, stroking as he looks down on me.

“Who do you belong to?”

Lunacy kisses his sinister gaze as he pins me down with an unyielding look. He’s breathing heavily, driven by impatient lust and a kind of possessiveness that trumps everything else.

It could be scary to be looked at like this. I feel like I should be frightened, and there’s a part of me that wants to call him, to address him with his name to produce the person hiding behind this expression of insanity.

But my excitement overshadows this whisper of fear. I know I am safe, or at least I’m led to believe that I am. My current concern is nothing but a spice to our game.

Or at least, I want it to be.

“You,” I breathe. The response leaves my lips with ease. “I belong to you.”

Triumph flares up in his eyes as he nods. “That’s right.”

I suck in a sharp breath in anticipation when he joins me on the bed, positioning himself between my spread legs while he continues to stroke his length. He remains on his knees for a few moments, our eyes locked on to each other while our erratic breaths hiss through the room. Something is troubling him. It’s written all over his strained expression and the luscious mask adorning his expression is not hiding it one bit.

But whatever it is, he won’t verbalize it in front of me.

He breaks the tension between us with sudden motions, grabbing my hips and lifting me up while his pelvis thrusts forward. A deep moan leaves my lips when he parts my lips, stretching me with his size as he moves forward in one brute motion. There’s desperation in the way he fucks me, turning him feral as he takes me with such vicious need that the tremors shock my entire body. My fingers dig into the bed sheet, holding on to it as I try to keep myself in place instead of being pushed away by the sheer brutality of his assault.

He leans forward, pinning me down with the weight of his body while he continues ramming in and out of me. Our lips connect in a rapacious kiss, neglecting the need to breathe while we claim each other, our bodies pressed against one another while he finds my wrists, forcing my hands up above my head and down onto the mattress. He holds me in place with everything he is, drawing passionate gasps from me while he works my core. I endorse him by wrapping my legs around his hips, forcing him closer to myself, as close as two people can possibly be.

And yet, it’s not enough. My need to connect with him is not even close to being fulfilled. I want more. Everything in me demands him, all of him—and the thrilling waves of pleasure that wash over me with each thrust are but a meager taste of gratification.

And I know he shares that greedy anguish.

“You’re mine, Petal,” he breathes in the midst our ravening dance. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

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