Page 24 of Pretty Little Princess

Pyotr takes note of my sideways glance, and one of his eyebrows rises slowly. In an oddly chivalrous gesture, he motions toward one of the art supply rooms a short distance from us. “Care to have this conversation somewhere a little less… public?”

I nod gratefully as warmth creeps up my neck to pool in my cheeks. Maybe now that our parents had to intervene, we might get back on the right foot. Start over. Though I doubt we’ll ever be a happy couple, I hope we can find some semblance of civility.

He lets me lead the way, and I open the narrow door, entering the familiar storage space. Particle board shelves reach up to the ceiling, all holding various paints, some oil, some acrylic, some watercolor. A myriad of colors fills the space.

The door clicks quietly closed, and I turn to face Pyotr in the confined space. He’s closer than I thought he would be, filling the cramped quarters and leaving me cornered. The rich scent of his cologne surrounds me, and my heart quickens.

I swallow hard.

“You were saying,” he prompts when I fail to speak.

“I was just trying to say I’m sorry… for everything that’s happened since you got to Rosehill.” There. That ought to cover whatever insults he thinks I’ve given.

He steps closer, invading my personal space, and I take a step back. My shoulders find the shelf behind me, and I have nowhere to go.

“You’re sorry? You think a few words will make things right?” he murmurs, his low voice vibrating deep in my core.

His face comes dangerously close to mine, reminding me of the quick kiss he stole before leaving my house this weekend. Even after everything, it still sent a jolt through me the moment our lips met. His eyes flick down to my lips as if he’s thinking the same thing.

My breath catches in my throat.

A cold smile curls the corners of his lips, and his eyes meet mine once more. “If you really want to make things right, you can get on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” he breathes.

He steps back then, showing me he genuinely means it. Humiliation heats my face.Play nice,my father’s words echo in my head once again. Relinquishing my dignity, I slowly lower onto the cold concrete floor, kneeling before Pyotr.

I’m intensely aware of how that puts me at eye level with his crotch, and I try not to glance down to look at it. Instead, I take a deep breath and try again. “I’m sorry, Pyotr. Can we please put the past behind us and start again?”

His gray eyes turn a molten silver as he looks down on me, and a hiss of air rushes between his teeth. “I’ll tell you what, Little Princess. You suck my cock, and if you can give me a proper blow job, I’ll think about letting it all go.”

My stomach somersaults as I realize this was where he was heading all along. The last thing I want to do is let him use me, but I can’t see another way to fix things, and my father told me to make it right.

Steeling myself for what I’m sure is going to be an unpleasant experience, I nod mutely.

Pyotr moans lasciviously, unbuttoning his jeans and lowering his zipper as he watches my face closely. Though I’m bordering on panic, my body still responds on some instinctive level. My core tightens at the sexual sound, and the space between my thighs warms with anticipation.

Embarrassment mingles with my fear as I realize the reaction is arousal.

Pyotr pushes the waist of his jeans and boxer briefs halfway down his muscular thighs, releasing his impressive erection. Comparatively, I have no idea if he would be considered large. All I know is that his cock is too thick and long to fit in my mouth.

My throat tightens convulsively, and I shudder as I stare down the angry pink head.

“You ever done this before, Little Princess?” he mocks, his tone indicating he’s enjoying this form of torture a little too much.

“No,” I breathe, then shake my head because I’m not sure he can hear me.

“Open wide, wrap your lips around your teeth, and think about it like you’re trying to swallow a banana whole. If you really want to please me, you can use your tongue. But whatever you do, don’t fucking bite me or throw up on me,” he warns. “Got it?”

I look up at his dark, beautiful face in wide-eyed fear, and he releases a low chuckle. Then he grips the base of his cock and taps the silken head pointedly against my lips. Fighting back tears, I obey his directions, wrapping my lips around my teeth as I open wide.

His fingers comb into my hair with surprising gentleness as he holds my head with one hand. He guides his cock into my mouth with the other. I don’t know what to do with my hands, but my knees are screaming from the cold, hard cement. So I grip his thighs to help steady myself and take some pressure off them.

His tip is soft as it presses between my lips and glides along my tongue. Pyotr moans as he eases inside me, and the sound makes my stomach quiver.

“That’s it,” he praises, his voice raspy and intensely masculine. “I want you to take all of me, Little Princess. Every last fucking inch.”

He’s not joking. He takes his time, penetrating my lips slowly, and it helps me acclimate to his size. My jaw strains to stay open wide enough to avoid catching him with my teeth, but I manage.

Then he reaches the back of my tongue, his cockhead closing off my airway as he fills me completely. And keeps going. I gag as he pushes down my throat, choking me. My neck muscles tighten instinctively, trying to stop the unwanted intrusion. And yet, my core tightens with anticipation as he claims me unapologetically.

---