Lead and Follow(44)

He thought he might need to push Paul. Maybe use a little pressure to force his choice. As perverted as that might be, he didn’t mind the idea. Paul had already given voice to his wishes. A demonstration of power might work him past the numerous hurdles in his mind.

However, they’d barely separated their lips, with Dima’s hand tightening on the back of the bartender’s neck, when Paul descended. He didn’t exactly take his time, but he didn’t speed either, before planting one wet kiss at the base of Dima’s throat.

Dima clenched Paul’s warm skin and Lizzie’s soft shoulder. She stroked over him, petting and soothing. Paul turned his head, kissed her too. The two pulled back and traded a look of silent communication. Dima was too busy maintaining his calm to figure out what it meant. His spine was hard and stiff, his legs burning with the energy needed to keep himself in check.

Lizzie licked his throat until her mouth hovered over his ear. “You love this, don’t you?”

He chuffed a quiet laugh. “Of course I do. I am a man, after all.”

She drew back until they looked into each other’s eyes, even as Paul ringed a damp circle over Dima’s navel and scraped his teeth over the tender flesh beneath. Her expression was curiously difficult to read. Expectant somehow, but he didn’t know what she wanted.

“You are,” she whispered. “I know.”

Would he ever be her man? The lonely, echoing thought jabbed in his mind, only to be immediately obliterated in the wet furnace of Paul’s mouth.

Dima’s head jerked back. His skull thumped against the wrought-iron headboard. He locked a solid grip on Lizzie’s hip.

Paul wasn’t screwing around. If Dima had been asked to guess, he would’ve expected a few licks and acclimatizing, perhaps strokes by hand. But Paul had enveloped the head of Dima’s cock in his hot mouth, sucking deep. His hands folded around Dima’s hips, fingers digging firmly beneath the sharp tips of his hipbones. Tight tension rocked higher. Harder. And fuck it all, but Paul kept sucking.

His flicked his gaze over the whole length of Dima’s body. Amused. He had his first mouthful of cock, the lean hollows of his cheeks pulling inward, and he only looked amused.

Dima thought his brain might turns circles. Lizzie’s lips parted, as if she were sucking along with Paul. Her steamy breath washed over his shoulder.

From Dima’s vantage, Paul was mostly shoulders with his jeans-wrapped ass rising behind. Small muscles worked and twitched across his spine as his head bobbed. He pulled his mouth off Dima’s dick with a small pop. His lips were glossy and slick.

Pleasure pulsed through Dima’s balls, but he held it back. He rubbed a flat thumb over the side of Paul’s face. “Well? How do you like it?”

The other man grinned. He scraped blunt-tipped fingers down Dima’s thighs. “Not bad. Helps that you’re shower fresh.”

Dima and Lizzie both laughed. He brushed back her hair, so that he could see the mossy green of her eyes. “And you?”

She made a quiet purr deep in her throat and undulated against his side. “I like watching.” She bent her mouth into an obviously fake pout. “I like doing better. I’m left out.”

He kissed her, but when she tried to pull away, he sank his teeth into her bottom lip. Gently. Then a little harder because he liked the soft moan she poured into his mouth. Paul’s hand wrapped around Dima’s cock before he licked a flat tongue over the head. Dima barely managed to hold his hips from flat-out fucking the man’s mouth.

With a handful of hair, Dima tugged Lizzie’s mouth away from his. “Then get down there and help him.”





Chapter Fifteen

Lizzie was finding it harder and harder to focus on what she should do, namely fixing things with Dima. Those thoughts hightailed it in favor of the feast of beautiful manflesh in her bed. This was therapy. This was fun. Considering the unexpected weight in her heart, she needed both.

With her tongue, yes, but mostly with her teeth, Lizzie slid down the lean, graceful, defined expanse of Dima’s body. The striated cap of his shoulder. The sweep of his pecs. The exquisite definition of his torso, from lats to ribs to tense, defined abdominals. The man was a work of erotic art. She’d always believed that perfection to be limited to when he danced, but perhaps artificial barriers had been created by habit.

Or fear.

She wasn’t afraid now. So wet, she was probably leaving a streak on the sheets as she slinked down. Didn’t matter. Her bed. Her men.

Despite the clasp of Dima’s hand on the back of her neck, she didn’t join Paul right away. Just another moment of watching. Outside of porn, she’d never seen a man blowing another man before last night. Paul did so with surprising gusto. He seemed the sort of guy who dove in hardcore once the decision was made, as he had when fucking her in Dima’s dressing room. Built for experiences and sensations in the moment.