Peter

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Sara squirms in my arms as I carry her up the stairs, her pale face flushed—presumably with anger and embarrassment. “Let me down,” she whispers furiously as soon as we reach the second floor. “Peter, put me down right now.”

I don’t put her down until we enter our bedroom. I’m still high on bloodlust, the adrenaline from the fight making my heart pump in a hard, furious rhythm. Anger and primal jealousy roil my insides, and underneath it all is a deep, demanding hunger, a need to take and claim her, to make her mine so completely she’ll never smile at another man again.

I know what I’m feeling is irrational, verging on pathological, but seeing her tonight in this dress—this red, tight, and way-too-low-cut dress—made me lose whatever semblance of rationality I possessed. Over the past few weeks, I’ve put up with the guys’ occasional glances in her direction, with their mealtime competition for her attention and their not-so-secret food requests. But what I saw in Anton’s eyes tonight was a mirror image of my own lust for Sara, and that I could not let slide.

“You are not to wear this dress in public again,” I say harshly, reaching around her slender frame for the zipper in the back. “From now on, it’s for our bedroom only.”

Sara glares up at me, the creamy swells of her upper breasts—exposed by the fucking dress—heaving with her rapid breathing. “You’re crazy.” Her palms push against my ribcage. “You got this dress for me.”

“Yan got it.” I yank the zipper down with unnecessary force, the rage still pumping through my veins. “And if there are any other ones like this, you better keep them for my eyes only. The next time I catch another man salivating over you, I’m going to dismember him. Slowly.”

I’m not bluffing, and Sara must see that, because some of the color leaves her face. “You’re insane,” she whispers, her hazel eyes huge as she stares up at me, and I know she’s right. I am insane, completely crazy over her. I’ve been doing my best to keep the intensity of my need under control, but I can’t do it any longer. I can’t pretend that every minute we’re apart doesn’t feel like an hour, that every time I touch her, I don’t want to devour her on the spot. My craving is dark and violent, yet I’ve been forcing myself to be civilized, to limit myself to acting like a lover when what I want is to strip her down to the bone so I can possess her whole.

I’ve been fighting a losing battle, and I’m ready to give up the fight.

Some of my thoughts must show, because Sara starts to struggle as I pull down the unzipped dress, exposing her braless breasts and trapping her arms. The contrast of the bright red color with her pale skin brings out the green flecks in her hazel eyes and makes my cock throb with savage need. I want her. Fuck, how much I want her. It’s like a sickness, this lust that torments me day and night.

Dropping to my knees, I wrap my arms around her, keeping her arms trapped inside the dress as I take one pink, erect nipple into my mouth. Sara cries out, her struggles intensifying as I suck on the nipple, crushing it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, but I don’t stop. I can’t. She tastes like sex and sweet perfection, like every fantasy of mine brought to life. I don’t know how I could’ve lived most of my life without her, because now that I’ve had her, I need more each time.

I need all of her, and tonight, I’m going to take it.

“Peter, please…” She’s panting now, her flat belly quivering as I turn my attention to the other breast. “I just—oh God, please…”

I torment her nipples until the burn inside me reaches fever pitch, and then I yank the dress all the way down, leaving it to pool around her ankles as I stand up and shepherd her toward the bed. She stumbles as the backs of her knees hit the bed, but I catch her and flip her over onto her stomach before climbing on top of her, fully dressed.

“What are you—” She breaks off in a gasp as I remove my belt and capture her wrist, twisting it behind her back and looping the belt around it. Then I repeat the process with her other wrist, ignoring her attempts to buck me off her as I tie her hands together, securing them with the belt behind her back.

“What are you going to do? Please, Peter… what are you going to do?” Her words are muffled against the blanket as I grab a pillow and stuff it under her hips. It’s not enough, so I reach for another one, propping her curvy little ass higher. She’s wriggling, obviously afraid, so to prevent her escape, I keep most of my weight on her legs as I reach over to the nightstand to get a bottle of lube I keep inside.

Unzipping my jeans, I free my aching cock and lean over her, holding my weight up on one arm as I drizzle the lube over her wriggling ass, letting it drip down into the crack and trickle down to her folds. Sara gasps, struggling harder, and I throw the lube aside before penetrating her pussy with my finger. She’s hot and beautifully slick inside, the lube mixing with her own wetness as I push in a second finger, stretching her for me.

As I fuck her with my fingers, I roll my thumb over her clit, and soon, I’m rewarded with helpless little moans, her attempts to get away transforming into squirming movements to enhance her pleasure. Her hips begin to rise toward me, her clit grinding against my thumb with every stroke, and I know she’s on the verge. Not wanting her to come yet, I stop and grip my cock, guiding it to the pink, quivering opening of her pussy.

Wet heat engulfs me, slick walls gripping me tight as I penetrate her swollen flesh. My heart thumps heavily, my balls tightening as her inner muscles flex around me, milking me, stroking my cock. The feeling is sublime, and all my senses sharpen, even as my awareness of the outside world fades. She’s all I focus on: the sounds she makes, the way her body stretches to admit me… I can smell her arousal on my fingers, and I bring them up to her mouth, ordering hoarsely, “Suck them clean.”

She obeys, her agile little tongue circling my fingers as I thrust them into her mouth, and I fuck her with them as I press deeper into her pussy, wrenching a choked gasp out of her throat when the tip of my cock brushes against her cervix. She’s small and delicate underneath me, her slender body trembling as her bound hands press against my stomach, and the knowledge that she’s completely at my mercy intensifies my lust, my need to dominate and take her.

“Tell me who you belong to,” I growl, pulling my fingers out of her mouth to smear the wetness down her chin and neck. Wrapping my hand around her slender throat, I thrust in deep, making her cry out. “Tell me, Sara. Who owns you?”

She’s breathing so fast I can feel her rapid exhalations where I grip her neck. “Y-you do.” The words are barely audible as they leave her lips, and it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

Releasing her throat, I reach between her legs, feeling the silky flesh stretching around my cock, the gliding slickness of the lube mixing with her cream. Sara’s panting intensifies, her ass arching up as her moans grow louder, and my fingers travel higher, slipping between the pale, firm mounds of her cheeks.

“Peter… wait. Oh God, Peter…” My name comes out a choked gasp as I find the tightness of her other opening and press the tip of my finger in, ignoring the resistance of clenched muscles. It takes all my self-control to go slow, to not take her as violently as my body demands. I don’t want to tear her, don’t want to hurt her despite the darkness gnawing at my soul. The lube eases my finger’s passage as I penetrate her deeper, but she’s still too tight and I almost come as I imagine how tight she’ll be around my cock, how her ass will grip and squeeze me.

She whimpers at the discomfort of my penetration, but I don’t stop until my finger is all the way in and I can feel my cock through the thin inner wall separating her orifices. The sensation is dizzying, surreal in its intensity. It sharpens the hunger inside me, turns it even darker and more feral.

My beautiful caged ptichka.

It’s time I fully claimed her.

After tonight, she’ll have no doubts that she’s mine.