Lead and Follow(57)

Finally.





Chapter Nineteen

Lizzie had long ago put “sex with Dima” into a faraway corner of her thoughts, where things like one-night stands dwelled.

But this…

This bright, hot memory would blaze for the rest of her life.

Dima’s first full thrust slammed her back against the brass headboard. She groaned and gripped even tighter, just to keep pace. That slight shift of arm and finger was the only leeway he allowed. The rest of her belonged to his hands, his mouth, his thick, pounding cock.

He stretched between her legs. The sure, strong length of his body determined their pace. He took hold of her calf and hooked it over his shoulder. After licking the inside of her knee, he softly bit her inner thigh. She shuddered, just as he changed the angle of his hips and hit her G-spot. The first tingles of oh, yes, there it is began to gather low, low in her belly.

Lizzie wanted to grin at him, to marvel with him. They could be so damn good. Except Dima was fucking her with more determination than she’d seen him attack any challenge. No finesse, despite how graceful he could be. This was all about power and faultless rhythm. A grim cast to his mouth made him nearly frown. Two lines furrowed between his dark, dark eyes. Shadows took so much of his light, and the anger shimmering between them stole his laughter.

God, she missed him.

She turned her face to one side, blinking back emotion that had no place in that moment. Paul had knelt by the side of his bed, his head pillowed by his forearms crisscrossed on the mattress. Just watching. He was smiling with a gorgeously dazed expression, as if his every fantasy were in the midst of coming true. Despite the shadows in Dima’s bedroom, Paul remained a sunny center of light.

Lizzie reached out to touch his brow. She needed that. No matter what fierce pleasure Dima wrung from her body, she needed the safe port he was not.

Dima grabbed her hand and flung it around his neck. “Hold on to me. Me. Don’t let go.”

She would’ve fought back if not for the gruff, unexpected pleading in his voice. So much emotion there. So unexpected. Her heart tightened around a protective twinge. She’d cared about him for years, but that moment cemented something vital and surprisingly tender. Something well beyond simple caring.

“I’ve got you.” Finding his earlobe, she licked the entire curve. “You’ve got me. You lead and I follow. Take us there, Dima mine.”

A strangled sound dragged her attention to his throat. She lifted her head and latched her mouth on his taut skin. He’d see her mark the next morning when he shaved, wear it all day when he practiced at the club.

“Again,” he grunted as he shoved deeper. His lean dancer’s hips were brutally strong. Lizzie rocked back with every pulse and grind. She scratched her nails along his shoulders and sucked until his demand for more and more sank into a hoarse moan. “Tell me you’re close, Lizzie.”

“You know my body better than I do,” she panted. “You know I am.”

Braced on his knees, he wrapped an arm around her lower back, bowing her breasts to his mouth. His other hand clasped and kneaded. He tugged one nipple to a hard point and suckled. The stroke of his tongue matched that of his prick. Lizzie slid her taut fingertips down his slick, straining biceps until the texture became rougher. He kept his chest waxed for performances, but his forearms glittered with pale brown, sweat-sleek hair. From boy to man, he had always been hers, but never like this. Never as if their skin would soften and their breath would fuse two people into one.

He spoke against her second nipple. “So wet, little one.”

Apparently to prove the point, he slipped free of her pussy. Lizzie cried out. Filled…and empty. Just like that. He dragged his hand up from between her legs, painting her stomach with her arousal. Two times, three. Without taking his eyes from hers, he thrust out his arm and smiled only slightly when Paul edged forward to lick his fingers.

“Yes, you are so close,” he said. “But most of the time, close isn’t good enough.”

Lizzie shivered at his foreboding comment, but she had no time—no inclination—to parse his meaning. Dima was a puzzle, but their pleasure was not. She trusted implicitly that he would see this to the explosive conclusion they both craved.

“Paul, you still with us?” he asked.

“Right here.” Lizzie didn’t need to see his face to hear the grin, but she looked anyway. He nodded once, a little sign of encouragement. “May I be of assistance?”

Dima’s wide mouth twisted. That same determination. That same darkness. “Lube. Your fingers. Our Lizzie needs her ass fucked too.”

With that he brought his mouth down on hers with surprising force. His tongue pushed inside. She grabbed his head with both hands, feeling his jaw work beneath her fingertips. More delicious hair, this time the bare scrape of stubble. She rubbed her mouth, her cheeks, her inner wrists along his jaw, savoring that tingling burn. Every nerve ending had gone numb, poised between pleasure and release, and she needed it hard, harder still.