Her Rustanov Bully: the (possibly romantic?) tale of how I pucked around and found out
Her Rustanov Bully: Chapter 39

Yom suddenly came down on top of me, flattening me to the bed with his lean yet surprisingly heavy weight. His length pressed against me like a steel beam, hard and unyielding, lodged at my core. A primal part of my mind lit up, sensing the imminent invasion, and I squirmed instinctively beneath him, my breath quickening into shallow bursts as I struggled to break free.

But Yom didn’t move. Didn’t penetrate me.

Just held me down underneath him—waiting patiently for something I didn’t understand.

Until I stopped struggling. Fighting was futile, I realized, panting. His strength surrounded me, absolute and impenetrable. Slowly, my body yielded underneath him, giving up on trying to get away.

The second I went limp, he rose, lifting his weight as though I’d unlocked some hidden command. Air rushed back into my lungs, and I heaved, trying to catch my breath.

Before I could process the sudden relief of being freed, though, his hands clamped around my waist, and with one swift, possessive pull, he yanked my hips back, positioning me on my knees.

Okay, okay… I breathed, struggling to calm my erratic heartbeat. This is okay. Hands and knees… doggy-style was a position I’d both heard of and seen before—courtesy of a perhaps unhealthy obsession with hentai back in the day when the boys at my posh private school wouldn’t so much as glance my way.

I tried to rise to my hands, but Yom’s rough palm caught the back of my neck, squeezing tight as he forced me down again. My cheek was pushed into a pillow, the tops of my breasts pinned against the rumpled sheet, while my ass stayed tipped high, exposed and vulnerable.

I felt his dick against one of my butt cheeks, dripping from the tip and pulsing menacingly as he kept me locked in this completely vulnerable position.

It seemed larger than before, as if he’d swelled. Was this turning him on? Making him even harder?

A shiver ran through my entire body. I squirmed beneath him, the line between fear and anticipation blurring in my mind.

But once again, he didn’t penetrate me. He simply held me down, his hand firm on the back of my neck, his silence like a heavy weight pressing over me, grounding me.

Gradually, my heart’s frantic rhythm slowed, and a strange resignation washed over me—a blend of defeat, acceptance, and something that almost felt like relief. Surrender, some forgotten labeling resource whispered through my head.

Only after I surrendered did he shift behind me. From the limited sightline of my prone position, I saw his leg rise, setting one foot on the bed at a calculated angle as he notched himself at my entrance.

Without a word, he drove into me, impaling me with one violent thrust.

“Yom!”

A startled groan escaped me when he filled me completely, stretching me so tight that I could feel every inch of him inside me, every vein in his long shaft. His heavy balls pressed against my back entrance as he settled in there. As if he’d staked his claim on my pussy. As if he owned it, the same as the lake house.

“What are you…?” I moaned, disoriented, overwhelmed, and struggling with the flood of sensations colliding inside me.

He didn’t respond, but I must have moved without consciously meaning to do so. He tensed behind me, his grip tightening around my neck as he pressed my face deeper into the pillow.

This time, it took me only a moment to stop fighting.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, the words slipping out unbidden.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a low growl. “I do not want your apology, zayka, Only your comprehension.”

His hand held me firmly, his icy tone chilling me as he spoke with deliberate calm. He seemed barely to strain to keep me subdued while I struggled just to catch my breath. “Do you understand, zayka?”

I’d been so confused since the day we met, but somehow I knew how to answer. I licked my dry lips. “Yes, I understand.”

“I do not believe you do, zayka. But you will.” His words drifted down my back like black smoke. A dark promise. “You will understand that you are mine.”

He began tunneling in and out of me, his voice low and laced with command. “You will understand you are not to run. Not to fight. You will never, ever flirt with another in front of me. You will think of no man but me.”

His strokes quickened, and though his tone stayed hard, an edge of desperation slipped in. “If you have problem… emergency… you will come to me. Not boss. Not parents. Not needy friends. Only me.”

Oh God. Oh God. Yom hadn’t lied or even understated the situation. Red flags rained down over me with each hard, claiming stroke, precise and relentless, like he was some kind of machine.

I should have screamed the safe word. Suitcase, suitcase, suitcase.

But instead, a thin, keening sound filled up the room.

Oh God. It was coming from me.

A strange, primal heat flooded my body, reaching places I hadn’t even known existed. Every nerve tingled with an urge to reach back, to rub at the button between my legs, but I already knew better.

As if sensing my need, Yom’s voice rumbled above me, dark and commanding. “If you are aroused, you will come to me. I will not be cheated on—not even with your own hand. And if you ever wish to leave…”

His voice cracked, rough, and fraying, and he thrust into me harder before he could speak again. “If you wish to leave, you understand—you will talk to me, and I will make you stop wishing that.”

His voice was stripped bare now, each word raw as he took me harder, his strokes becoming unrestrained. “You are mine now. Tell me you understand. Tell me.”

My breath hitched, every command, every word striking me like he was holding me down by my heart. His demands were unhinged. But a sick thrill pierced my core. Even without clitoral stimulation, my pussy spasmed dangerously around him, my head swimming with lust.

I tried to reason with him, just as I’d coaxed him out of his nightmare earlier. “Yom, baby⁠—”

“You will not call me by this baby pet name!”

He caved his body over mine, covering my back with his chest as he moved inside me faster and faster.

“Man I meet upstairs… he is terrible father,” Yom informed me, his voice rough in my ear. “He is not protecting you. Is not giving you so much pride in yourself that a bastard like me can never claim you. So…”

His voice dipped, low and guttural. “I am your Daddy now.”

Twenty-two. I was barely twenty-two, and Yom was only a few months older than me. How could he even be saying this?

I crumpled into the bed, my hips giving out, but Yom only gripped me tighter, driving into me with plowing, deep strokes that pushed my face even farther into the pillow.

“This,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “This is what you will understand, zayka. I am your Daddy, your protector. Your body belongs to Daddy. Your heart belongs to Daddy, who will keep you, take care of you, and never… ever… let you go.”

His voice cracked, a raw tremor threading through his words as he moved, wild and frantic, on top of me.

“I will love you forever. You will never leave me. And you will always, always love me back. Tell me you understand this, zayka.”

One arm wrapped around my neck, just tight enough to choke me without hurting me while he thrusts into me harder and harder. “Tell your Yom, ‘Daddy, I understand.’”

So…

So…

So…

This was what a mind break felt like.

“Daddy,” I choked out, my voice small, broken. “I understand.”

Silence fell, a quiet implosion, and maybe his mind broke, too—along with my own worldview.

In the next heartbeat, we shattered together. Me, helpless and loud, my cries surely alerting the whole floor. And him, with a roar that was pure, untamed possession.

He shoved into me one last time before collapsing on top of me like a filthy, multi-hundred-pound blanket.

We lay there, breathing together in the quiet aftermath.

Then he pulled out of me, but even without his weight holding me down, I couldn’t move. I lay there in the mess he’d made of me. Body twitching, core still trembling, mind melted to a useless, soft haze.

“Zayka, come here, zayka,” he murmured, gathering my boneless body into his arms and cradling me against his chest like I was his most precious treasure.

“You are such good girl for me,” he said. His voice was ragged, thick with emotion, as he pressed tender kisses to my temple. “I am sorry I had to have this rough conversation with you. But thank you for allowing me to speak to you this way. Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” I felt as though I were swimming to the surface from deep underwater. “I know you didn’t mean it. It was just a, um… rough conversation, like you said.”

I let out a small, self-conscious chuff.

But he didn’t laugh.

He drew back to regard me, his expression deadly serious. “I mean every word, zayka,” he said in a tone as grave as if he were delivering tragic news.

He cupped my leaking pussy in his large hand, thumb tracing gentle circles. “Do you need convincing now to stay with me?”

My heart stuttered, caught between everything I thought I knew and the raw, undeniable pull of his moon.

“If I say no, does that make me crazy?” I whispered, even though it was just us in the room.

“Nyet, it makes you my woman.” He cupped my chin, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip as his gaze held mine, dark and unbreakable. Impossibly, I felt him stiffen again, his arousal pressing against my stomach. “My zayka.”

“What does zayka mean?” I asked softly.

A wry smile flashed across his mouth. “Bunny.”

Well, that tracked. I’d been comparing him to a wolf for a while now, and him calling me bunny in Russian totally explained the fan-fic, Rule of 34 BEASTARS energy coming off of this relationship.

“Okay, I think I can do this. Be what you want. Call you…” I faltered, my voice catching as the word stuck on my tongue. My courage was flagging now that we were past… whatever insanely intense thing had just happened. “…your preferred pet name.”

Clearing my throat, I forced myself to be serious. “But you have to promise me something.”

Yom’s intense expression softened. “Anything, zayka. This you are already knowing.”

“I need you to let this beef with Paul go.”

His face darkened. “Anything but this,” he edited, shifting his gaze away.

“Hear me out, okay?” I laid my hands on his chest, tilting my head to get his eyes back on mine. “After what happened in that restroom, I’m going full no-contact with Paul. And if my parents try to strong-arm me, I’ll tell them why. I won’t need protection from him anymore. But I won’t be able to fully enjoy this… us… if I’m constantly worried about you destroying his life.”

“Zayka, do not ask this of me….” Yom’s face was a study in torment.

My heart clenched, but I couldn’t back down. “You know I don’t ask for much. This is the one promise I need from you.”

He glowered—harder than I thought possible—holding the frown for so long I almost laughed. Almost.

Then he said, “Fine. I will let go.”

A relieved, happy smile spread across my face. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

But he held up a hand, pinning me with that same smoldering, unyielding look. “In this case, you should say to your Yom, ‘Thank you, Daddy.’”

Heat flushed my face, the blush spilling over my entire body, but I forced myself to whisper, “Thank you, Daddy.”

That made him smile. “You will learn to let this pet name slide from your tongue.” His gray eyes darkened with the promise. “I will teach you.”

I’d always struggled in school, reading especially. But this lesson proposal? I could answer easily, my voice light and teasing. “I am very, very up for being taught….”

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before sliding out of his arms. “After I take a shower!”

Like the bunny he called me, I darted off the bed, laughing as I escaped to clean off my thoroughly wrecked body.

Just as I reached the door, I paused, a newly awakened, womanly instinct making me glance over my shoulder. “You can join me if you want.”