Lead and Follow(32)

Dima didn’t mind making long-term plans. He never had. Stretching this adventure out another few encounters wouldn’t be bad at all. Not to mention that Lizzie and her recent running-hard mentality would probably benefit from a slow burn.

He cupped Paul’s face in one hand. Stubble abraded his palm in a delicious hint of texture. Hardness and power. He hadn’t been with a man in years. Not since before Svetlana. There was something final about this setup. Not that tonight was destined to be the only time the three of them played together, but rather that this marked the end of an era for Dima and Lizzie. Their entire relationship would change after this—even more than it already had.

Either advance…or end.

A terrifying, bone-chilling thought. One he wouldn’t allow.

“Will you follow?”

Paul’s throat worked over a swallow, and his chest shuddered again. “I’ll try. That’s about all I can promise.”

“Good enough.” For now.

The curious part was that Dima wouldn’t have accepted the same answer from Lizzie. A tide of demands would’ve swelled within him, craving concessions they’d never considered.

It hadn’t been Lizzie. She still devoured him and Paul with her gaze. If he knew her like he thought he did, she was holding back more than one comment. Good that she realized there was no place for her nervous chatter tonight. Everyone was too skittish.

The edge within him honed to a sharp blade—like standing on stage before the lights went up as energy jerked to levels he’d worked for decades to restrain. He laced his fingers around Paul’s thick neck and tugged, pulled him down so that their lips were level. Dima didn’t stretch up, which further established his dominance. Paul was the newcomer and the visitor. He would give way. Not the other way around.

The kiss became exploration. Tasting. Orange and vodka taken by sweeps of his tongue in Paul’s mouth. Dima hated alcohol, hated what it meant for his family, but from such a sexy source it became dark and delicious. Under his hand, Paul’s jaw worked subtly. Slowly. They dove together into the possibilities.

A sigh slid through the air. Lizzie had come around their sides, weaving touches over them both. Dima’s back prickled with the lovely trace of her fingertips down his spine. He pulled his mouth from Paul’s but still held the man’s face—not letting him back away.

“Like what you’re seeing, little one?”

Her agreement verged on a moan. “You two look so good.”

Paul’s mouth quirked into a smile. He hooked an arm low around Lizzie’s back. The man seemed to like her ass, from the way he palmed it. “Feels good too.”

Dima licked his bottom lip. He took a kiss from Lizzie. She and Paul both tasted of screwdrivers, yes, but different underneath. Something unique. His Lizzie. He could quickly become addicted to her taste.

There was no such thing as getting his fill, but after a moment, he pulled back and nudged her chin toward Paul. “Kiss him.”

Her hand snuck under the hem of Dima’s shirt to clutch at his waist, even as she stretched up on her toes toward the other man. Dima slipped behind her, filling his hands with her sleek body.

Christ, he loved her curves, but even more he loved that they were underlain with refined muscles—a testament to her hard work. Her dedication and ambition. He stroked firmly up her sides, all the way to her underarms. She shook lightly against Paul, although it was nothing compared to the way she lifted on her toes when Dima cupped her breasts.

Perky, full and exactly the right shape.

He thumbed the undersides of her tits. In the delicate hollow of her temple, her pulse throbbed beneath his lips. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time tending to her breasts last night. Hadn’t had the opportunity, which was a damn shame.

Even better, his knuckles brushed against Paul’s chest. Every motion that layered pleasure over Lizzie extended to Paul.

Petting down over her waist, he found where Paul’s hands looped around her hips. Dima circled those thick, strong wrists. The contrasts were amazing. Lizzie’s tender throat under his mouth. Paul’s wrists in his hands. Both of them waiting for his choices, his control.

Fuck, it was good.

He slipped his fingers under Lizzie’s hem. Slowly, he pulled the dress up until she was forced to stop kissing Paul and lift her arms. Dima stripped off the tiny swath of satin.

When she dropped her head back to rest on his shoulder, she wore a sultry smile and wicked underwear. The lingerie was dark blue with black lace overlay, showing off her breasts and her ass in a way that tightened his balls. He spread his fingers wide over her flat stomach, before tracing the faint line down the center.