Lead and Follow(47)

I do my best for you, Lizzie.

Christ, he always did. No matter what happened, Dima would not intentionally allow her to be hurt. She knew that like she knew how to breathe.

She blinked at Paul, nodded as much as she could.

Dima relaxed too. The granite-solid muscle beneath her head eased as he accepted her permission too. “Make me come, Paul.”

The blue-eyed man with a body built to fuck like a piston returned to his sexy task. He pulsed Dima’s prick in and out, jerking them both back to full salutes. The two sturdy tendons along his buzzed nape stood out like ropes. Sweat lined his forehead and upper lip, which was taut around Dima’s thick shaft.

Lizzie couldn’t look away, couldn’t say a word. Breath from her nose moistened Dima’s hand where he clasped her so firmly. She wanted to touch between her legs, but all she managed was an impatient wiggle, thighs clenching and releasing.

“Close, Paul. So close for us. Make me come so you can do the same for our Lizzie. She’s here waiting for you.” Dima pushed his mouth against her ear. “Open your legs,” he rasped. “Let him see his reward.”

She complied, which only made Dima’s hips twitch faster, up into Paul’s mouth. She moaned against the hand holding her silent. A tingle invaded her forearms and fingertips where Dima held her arms completely still.

A low rumble gathered in his throat. He gripped her bottom jaw as his orgasm seemed to build from somewhere in the middle of all three sweaty bodies.

“Swallow me, Paul.” His words were feral. His hips worked a hard counter to Paul’s steady mouth. “Show me how much you love sucking me. Your first cock. Your first mouthful of fuck juice—”

He jerked and shoved, unloading on a low, deep growl. Lizzie caught the quickest flash of Paul’s expression—pure satisfaction—before the man pounced. Never as lithe as Dima, but so goddamn powerful. He lay over her and attacked with one swift movement, filling her so fast that she screamed against Dima’s hand. She arched, but two sets of implacable hands held her still. Paul pinned her lower body with his legs and grinding pelvis.

Just as Dima had teased, Paul grabbed her ass and used her cheeks for leverage. Every thrust hit her like a rocket firing into space. Dima had removed his hand from her mouth. The crown of her head pushed against Dima’s shoulder. He padded her with his muscles, urging her on with dark words that wove between English and Russian. She heard them even as Paul fucked her, even as Paul kissed her—his tongue tasting of Dima. He was everywhere.

“Race him, little one. He’s ready to blow, but you can beat him to it. Better than anyone else who ever tried. My superstar. Come for him, Lizzie. God, come for me.”

Her orgasm hit her like slamming into a wall at a dead run. Motion and feeling and momentum suddenly stopped, suspended, as pleasure too hot, too frantic, burst across every nerve. She was pulling out of her own skin. And screaming. Her hoarse, raw-throated bellow filled the tight bedroom. She was completely unmoored, despite two strong men who held her captive, one with his relentless pumping cock, the other with his lovely filthy mind.

Dima grabbed the back of Paul’s head and pulled him down, forehead to forehead. “Have you ever been so perfect at anything? At any moment? Make this perfect.”

“Aw, fuck.”

Paul’s tight, scraping fingers stung Lizzie’s ass. His cock was as hard as being fucked with a pipe. She shrieked again as another climax swept over the last. She twisted against Dima, fought against Paul, as pulses of light fused to white behind her eyes. One last thrust and Paul joined her, his groaned curse animalistic. She opened her eyes just in time to see the men kiss, roughly, as Paul shuddered the last of his pleasure.

He collapsed between them, half sprawled on her and Dima, with an exhausted laugh chugging out of his chest.

“What’s funny?” Dima asked quietly as he stroked damp hair back from Lizzie’s temple. He had yet to release her hands. Not so firmly, but still…holding.

“I think there was an agreement in there somewhere. Don’t you, Liz?”

She stretched down to her toes. “Sure do.”

“Agreement to what?” Dima’s accent was so thick. He’d gone to some primal place. A default mode. He really did have the most delicious voice.

“You accepted Paul’s invitation to breakfast,” she said on a giddy exhale. “Time to go do something really naughty.”





Chapter Sixteen

Not much compared to spring in New York, unless it was walking with a view of Lizzie’s ass. Hands slung in his pockets, Dima followed her and Paul underneath a stretching canopy of trees that shaded a residential sidewalk. Together, the fair couple ducked a group of wise-mouth tweens tumbling off a stoop.