Lead and Follow(8)
“That ass makes me think I should reconsider,” Lizzie said, her words a taunt. “What do you think, Paul? Should I give him another chance?”
The centers of Dima’s palms burned. He yanked the track pants over his hips and pulled on a tank top and jacket.
There was no staying away from her for long—his partner and his friend and the key to so many hopes. He stroked a hand over Lizzie’s back as he walked by. She shuddered, her head falling forward to expose the delicate bumps of her spine. Her fingertips tightened across Paul’s shoulders. The man’s darkly tanned hands climbed her sides until his thumb grazed Dima’s finger.
“Have a good time, little one. I’ll see you back at the flat.”
On a silent moan, her lips opened, still slicked with bright pink gloss. They’d gone at it so fast and dirty that her makeup was barely smudged. “Are you going to be alone?”
A devil took control of his tongue. He couldn’t pretend they were the same asexual friends they used to be. Not anymore. If Lizzie wanted his attention, he wanted hers right back.
“No. Jeanne made it more than clear that I had an open invitation.” After twining a lock of her shoulder-length hair around his finger, he passed the knuckles of his other hand over Paul’s shimmering buzz cut. “Tonight, I’m in the mood for a blonde.”
Chapter Three
The door slammed and Lizzie kissed Paul. Hard. A lot harder than what a quick-and-dirty demanded. She’d been perched on the edge of coming for minutes, holding back. Holding her breath. Normally she associated kissing with foreplay, but this was more like stress relief.
Dima’s calm sexual smolder had flipped her brain, and Paul continued to surprise her.
He released her ass to take her head between his wide hands. The calluses along his palms roughed her cheeks before he tunneled his fingers into her hair. Mouth open, he plunged deep with his tongue. Their teeth clicked but he didn’t stop—not the kissing or the relentless thrust of his hard, controlled body. He found her throat and tucked his face there. Lizzie scraped her nails up and down his back, urging without words.
Breathing hard, he asked, “Could he be listening at the door?”
Holy hell, he wasn’t done thinking about it. The surprising show Dima had staged must’ve done a number on Paul. What was she supposed to do with that? Hell, what was she supposed to do with how Dima’s body looked entirely new to her? So sexy. So taut and controlled. She’d never reacted to him that way before—purely visceral and primal and not at all some safe, steady partnership.
Her body knew what to do. Some deep, nasty part of her brain knew.
“I wouldn’t put it past him.” She inhaled as he shifted their angle. Bang. Right against her G-spot. “We share an apartment. Taking a partner back there is never entirely…private.”
“Is he gay?”
Good God, she was blowing apart.
She found Paul’s earlobe and bit down hard enough to make him grunt. “No, cowboy,” she whispered. So close. He was as frantic as she, all sweat and slick, wet sounds. “He likes both.”
Paul smacked his palms on her ass and grabbed. Lizzie just held on while he pumped her with his huge, hard tool. Her climax hit her in a slow roll, so unlike their quick fuck. She arched her neck and let it take her mind. Aching waves of pleasure burned and shook until it released in the form of a tight scream.
Let Dima hear. She hoped it ruined him for that skinny new girl he’d go tackle.
Paul echoed her satisfaction. A moan rumbled out of his solid chest and burrowed into her blood. They sat there panting. Lizzie hadn’t been so lightheaded since those weeks doped up on pain meds.
“This job isn’t enough to pay my rent,” he said with a breathless laugh. “Apparently it has other benefits.”
“I’m not a club perk, cowboy.” She climbed off him and smoothed her dress.
“So what was it? A cocktease looking for a little revenge against that guy?”
“A cocktease wouldn’t have got you off.”
He grinned. “True, that.”
Scrubbing his face with his hands, he sprawled there in the chair—knees parted, his erection going back into hiding. At the sick lurch in her stomach, Lizzie couldn’t tell if she was proud or disgusted by what she’d just done.
Dima had stood by as she fucked another man. Christ. That thought jolted her all over again. Lingering images of his lean back rippling with muscle shook her to the core.
She’d wanted him.
After fifteen years…now her ridiculous mind wanted him? No matter how hot Paul was, or how great her orgasm had been, or how arousing it was to watch Dima’s quiet flirtation with the sunshine cowboy, another surprising thought overwhelmed everything else. She’d wanted Dima to stake his claim. Get angry. Throw things. Yank Paul off her and hurl him out the door.