Her Rustanov Bully: the (possibly romantic?) tale of how I pucked around and found out
Her Rustanov Bully: Chapter 36

Yom climbed onto the bed after Lydia. He couldn’t be soft. He couldn’t be nice.

It had taken her too long to realize what he had from the start.

She’d driven him crazy with the wanting of her. Mind on fire, he crawled between her legs and pushed up her nightshirt, exposing her chest. Chyort. No bra… just a set of briefs the same color as pink cotton candy below her perfectly rounded breasts.

Yom palmed one, once again admiring the contrast of his large, pale hands massaging her smooth, dark globes.

His mouth watered, and he folded his body over hers to draw one of the even darker aureoles into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around one nipple while flicking the other with his thumb until she began making cute little mews and squirming beneath him.

Ah, Lydia, do not make these sounds. I cannot withstand it.

Yom’s cock pulsed dangerously. As much as he wanted to continue his long overdue feast, he knew he would not last much longer if he let himself play with her.

With a wet pop, he abandoned her breasts to reclaim her mouth. No, he couldn’t be soft. Couldn’t be nice.

He’d won her. He’d finally won her, and the urge to claim his prize turned him into a desperate beast.

Humping between her legs, he drove her into the bed with his heavy kiss.

“Need inside you,” he rasped against her lips. Before this moment, Yom considered himself a wolf among sheep—especially when it came to hockey.

But just a few tastes of her sweet lips and her curvy body rendered him unable to control himself.

Speaking of control…

“Tell me you are on birth prevention,” he demanded. He was too far gone to leave this room to acquire a condom. Too sick with lust to even take the time to remove his tuxedo.

He licked and kissed his way down her neck, the urge to devour her hollowing out his gut.

“I’m on birth control,” she gasped out under the assault of his kisses. “But are you…? I should ask you about…”

“Nobody but you,” he promised, reading her mind, even though she seemed to be having trouble forming sentences. “Since Berlin, and my team physical results are coming back negative for everything.”

“That’s…that’s not a… issue for me either.” Her voice sounded dazed, confused.

She was having trouble gaining her bearings, but he couldn’t stop to let her catch up to him.

His need created a buzzing swarm in his head as he pushed his rock-hard erection inside her as far as he could with two barriers of cloth between them.

The thin cotton caved in under his insistent thrusts, letting him sink farther inside her folds. Even fully zipped up, he could feel her dampening sex through his pants. Hot and needy.

“Oh, God, that feels so good,” she said, confirming his thought. “You can… we can… without…”

That was the only permission Yom needed to unzip and pull himself out.

Yanking her panties aside, he pushed into her tight space with one greedy shove.

And immediately regretted it.

She cried out underneath him.

Not in ecstasy.

The sharp sound of her distress shot through his chest like a bullet, and Yom froze when she twisted underneath him. In obvious pain.

She was…

She hadn’t…

He’d assumed that every word in Berlin had been a lie. Orchestrated by her brother to ensure he won his bet.

But Yom’s blood ran cold with the realization that there had been one thing she hadn’t lied about.

“You are virgin?”

“Yes, I told you that in Berlin.” Her voice was no longer dazed with lust but tight with pain.

Horror climbed up Yom’s spine as her words sank in. “Why are you on birth control then?”

“Because I hate periods that much,” she answered between gritted teeth. “Could you… I don’t know…” She twisted uncomfortably beneath him. “It hurts.”

It hurts. He had truly caused her pain. The realization hit him like a punch to the chest. How could he have been so careless? He’d been blinded by his own need, but now he burned with shame for putting his desires above her well-being. He wanted nothing more than to continue beating himself up for his reckless behavior.

At the same time, he knew he had to make this better. A memory of pain couldn’t be her first time. He couldn’t let her regret saying yes to him.

“Ssh, zayka, ssh.” He brought a hand to her cheek, gently brushed back her locks, and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Yes, he could be soft. He could be nice. “This pain will soon pass. Breathe with me. Let your body relax. Let it accept me. Accept this.”

She stopped struggling and began to breathe as he instructed, slow and steady, her gaze meeting his as she stretched and adjusted around him.

He didn’t know whether to feel grateful that she trusted him enough to listen or to castigate himself even further.

She was so sweet, so strong. It cracked his chest to watch her endure suffering he had caused.

“I am truly sorry, zayka. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he whispered into her ear as she released tiny, fast breaths against his shoulder.

“I was too crazed. I am wanting you too badly. These weeks after Berlin have been terrible.”

The truths he’d made himself hold back while Lydia was deciding how to answer him came rushing out. “I am obsessing over you. Making myself stay in my room even though you are only down the hall. I am dreaming of you. Do you know that, zayka? Dreaming while awake of this moment.”

He brushed his nose against her cheek as her breaths slowed. “Every night, I take shower before bed, but lately, I am adding another in the morning, too, so I can get rid of evidence of my wanting you too much before I drive us to school. Please believe me….”

He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “Please believe me when I tell you I am never wishing to hurt you.”

She breathed in.

Then she breathed out in a whisper against his neck, “I believe you.” Her voice was softer now, a little stronger. “It’s okay.”

“It is not okay,” he answered, nuzzling his face into hers. “I will never forgive myself for giving you this pain.”

“C’mon, baby, stop,” she insisted in that impish, teasing tone she often used to correct him on something he’d gotten wrong in Statistics. “The hurt is done. And Yom?”

She placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his face so that he could look at her.

“I’m glad it was you,” she told him, her gentle brown eyes shining. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, and I understand now. Thank you. Thank you for making sure I loved you before we did this. I love you, Yom.”

Her words shredded his chest. No one—no one—had ever talked to him like this before. Answered his terrible action with sweetness and gratitude.

She had murdered him. Was Lydia aware of this?

She had dug his grave in winter ground and set him on fire with just a few words from her sweet mouth.

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Hugging him, even though he’d caused her pain.

“I want to feel what comes next,” she whispered, kissing his cheek softly. “Could you… could you show me the next part?”

She rocked her hips as best she could beneath his weight.

“Could you love me some more?”

Could he? He had never felt so wretched about his actions toward another person. He wanted to punish himself forever.

But more than that, he wanted to give Lydia pleasure.

And so…

Yom lifted up slightly and shifted to the side.

“No, don’t!” Lydia let out a soft sound of protest, wrapping her arms even tighter around him.

But then she realized he’d only raised to give himself the leverage to begin moving his hips, slow and careful, testing each angle until he found just the right one to make her gasp—this time, in the opposite of pain.

Her sex received him with warmth now, flexing and gripping around his staff.

“Oh, Yom, that feels so… ungh… so…”

Instead of finishing her sentence, she clenched tight around his cock, strangling it with her pussy.

“You are good girl, Lydia,” he croaked. “Such good girl.”

She was taking him so well, meeting his thrust with small undulations of her own, sleeving his erection like she’d been molded for this. Molded for him. It was too much.

His balls tightened, threatening to shoot.

But he made himself go slower, pumping as carefully as he could to make the magic last for her first time.

“Watch.” He lifted up on one arm to give her a view down their thrusting bodies. “Watch me take your pussy.”

Like a doll commanded, she lowered her eyes.

They were a lewd sight with Yom still in his tux and her wrapped around him with her panties shoved to the side and her shirt pushed up above her plump breasts.

But she stared at Yom’s hips, drilling her into the bed, her mouth slightly open. Da, such a good, good girl. Yom watched her watch him make his claim. For as long as she could.

Eventually, her head fell back, and she let out a delicious moan. Her pussy milked his cock with a faster, even more fervent intensity. Letting him know she was close.

“Nyet, zayka.”

As sorry as he was about how this began, he couldn’t let her get away with that.

He shifted his weight to his bent arm, so that he could cup his other hand behind her head and make her look at him. “You will keep your eyes on me.”

This command soon proved to be a mistake.

Their eyes clashed.

And something slipped inside of him.

In the next moment, they were no longer making love. The heels of her feet banged on his lower back as he turned into an animal, rutting into her smaller body.

He could no longer be soft. He could no longer be nice.

He grunted into her neck, barely holding on to his sanity.

She gasped out his name at a higher pitch and with an increasing urgency. “Yom! Yom! Yom!”

Until her pussy seized around him, binding him in her pleasure.

For a moment. For one reasonable moment, he thought that maybe he could hold on to the ledge while she fell over it alone, her orgasm milking his cock.

But then she leaned back to look up at him, her eyes shining with awe. “Is it supposed to feel this good?” she asked, her voice small and innocent.

Yom lost his mind.

Shoving into her so hard, mindlessly trying to crawl inside of her. Then, there came an unholy quiet.

A complete absence of sound and sight that lasted for seconds… minutes… years?

How long was he there?

He would never be able to say.

But when he came to, his ears were ringing, and he found himself paralyzed, his body completely seized up as he jetted ropes upon ropes of cum into her pussy.

Yom wasn’t a virgin, but this felt like coming for the very first time.

It was a good thing he hadn’t bothered with a condom. He didn’t see how that little bit of latex could withstand this assault.

By the time his muscles unlocked, what had been a small measure of moisture between them had become a pool of his ejaculate, caking her thighs, running in rivulets from where they were joined.

Yom collapsed on top of her soft body, like someone exorcised.

But he only let himself stay there for a moment. Not wanting to crush her, he lifted up to give her room to breathe. Then pulled out of her with a vulgar squelching sound that jolted Lydia from her own blissful state.

“Wow,” she said, sitting up on her forearms to blink down at the mess he’d made of her. Her pretty pastel panties were now dark pink, filthy, and soaked in his seed. Her bare kiska, dribbling cum.

“I should…” She sat up with an embarrassed look. “I should, I should go take a shower.”

“Da, I always take shower before I sleep,” Yom agreed as she fully sat up. “But…”

He caught her by the arm.

“It is not time to sleep. The night is not over yet, zayka.” He pulled her back down to him. “And I am not done making everything up to you.”