CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
O skar
Dmitri’s face is paler than normal, and his movements lack their customary grace. Even his smile wavers. For a man who regularly kisses me in front of cameras and reporters, he clearly has been shaken.
I slink my arms around him and hope that helps. I gaze into his eyes, and his dark eyes soften.
“I’m here now,” I say. “You’re here now.”
His throat works as he nods, his gaze dropping to my lips.
I tug him toward me, parting my lips. Uncertainty bubbles through me. I’ve watched him for too many years. I’ve known him as my straight friend. Not my husband whom I kiss. But I push away my fears, and instead, I kiss Dmitri.
He melts against me. He shifts his position, but it’s not to separate and stammer embarrassed apologies that he’s straight and last night and this morning never should have happened. Instead, he tightens his grip around me, and I focus on strengthening our kiss. My tongue explores his mouth, because I’m definitely getting the hang of this now, and the way his heart beats against my chest tells me all I need to know.
For some crazy reason, Dmitri Volkov actually likes me. He does want this.
I bring my hands to his face and continue to kiss him. I want to kiss away his stress and fears. Our tongues and lips dance, and my cock is as hard as any hockey stick.
He breaks away. “Is big deal, Oskar.”
“I know.”
“Media is onto us.”
“Yeah.”
“And the government...” His beautiful features twist.
“Shhh...” I kiss him again. “We’ll figure it out.”
He nods, even though he knows that we might not figure it out. We’re just two men.
“Come here.” I lead him to the massage table.
I push him onto it with more enthusiasm than grace. “Sorry!”
He laughs. “Feeling feisty, baby?”
“Um, maybe?” I slide between his legs, and his gaze dips to my bulge. His bites his lower lip, and I grin. He really does seem to like that section of my body.
He wraps his legs around me, so that my bulge is pressing against his, and I see the way that his eyes roll up and the way his lips press together as if to constrain a moan.
“Slide off your sweatpants,” I whisper.
His eyes round.
“I want to see it.”
His lips swerve. “I thought you were virgin.”
“You’ve been corrupting me.”
His eyes soften, and he unties the string of his sweatpants. His cock juts out obscenely. Maybe I’m bigger than him there, but he’s hardly small.
His sweatpants slide down.
My mouth waters.
“And your boxer briefs,” I order.
“Oh, yeah?” His eyes dance, but he moves quickly. He can see the benefits of wearing fewer clothes too.
Then I see it.
His hard, throbbing, leaking cock.
I reach out to touch it, and it pulses, jumping toward me.
“You don’t have to do anything, Oskar,” he says, his voice more serious.
“I’ve waited a long time to do this.”
“In that case, okay. I don’t want to deny you years of curiosity or anything.”
“That’s generous of you.”
I kneel down. His cock juts out between his thighs.
I hesitate.
“Just lick it a little,” he says, and my shoulders ease. “Feel it with your lips and tongue. I, um, want to see it in your mouth.”
“You do?”
“You’re beautiful, Oskar. Of course, I want to see your lips around my cock.”
I suck it into my mouth tentatively, wishing I’d been reading how to guides in my office before he entered. My heart pounds, and I think about all the people who’ve done this to him before me.
I dart my gaze upward, and his eyes are soft.
“Oskar...” He ruffles my hair with his hand, his every movement tender.
I focus on the feel of his cock in my mouth. He tastes salty, and I swallow, eager to get more of the taste.
“Yeah... Like that.” His cock hits my throat. He’s not all the way in, but he places my hands on his balls, which are tighter than before. “Play with these.”
I move my fingers over his balls as I inhale and suck on his cock. My heart thrums. His cock pulses.
I can’t believe this is happening. I move my hands under his balls, holding them lightly. I want to memorize everything about this moment.
“Just like that,” he murmurs.
I try to remember what he did last night and try to apply a similar suction.
It works.
His breaths become shorter, noisier, rising above the hum of the air conditioner and the faint scent of eucalyptus in the air.
He moves his fingers through my hair, his tender motions becoming more frantic, like he wants to ascertain that I’m there.
And then all of a sudden, he jerks up and pulls his cock out of my mouth. I whine, because I still want to have him in my mouth, but then I stare, transfixed, as his cock jerks and jumps, white shooting from it.
The salty scent is now in the air.
“Shit,” he murmurs, staring at the aftermath.
His cheeks are now flushed pink, and his eyelashes flutter in a happy manner. He grins at me.
“Was that...?”
“It was good, baby.” He pulls me toward him, then kisses the top of my head. My heart pounds and sweat prickles my spine. He reaches his hand toward me and pulls me on top of him. I grind against him, protected by his large figure. He kisses me, but then I feel his hands reaching down and unbuckling my belt, lowering my zipper, and rounding his hand around my member.
His hand is warm, and he moves with the same confidence he carries in everything he does.
He squirts some massage oil on his hand, then strokes me, his grip firm. “Just relax.”
“O-okay.” My voice is breathless, and I feel him smile against me as he feathers kisses along my cheek. I turn to him, thankful we both fit on the massage table. He moves an arm around me, so I don’t fall onto the floor, and he inhales, as if he really likes having me next to him.
My heart sings, and he continues to stroke me in firm motions.
I turn my head toward him, gazing at his symmetrical features, his thick brows furrowed. The warm, spa-like light settles on his features, casting a golden glow over his profile. He looks like one of those sculptures of Roman gods I find at the MFA, every feature masculine, his expression focused.
He turns toward me. “Hi there.”
My cheeks warm. I guess I was staring. “Hi.”
He grins at me.
“I guess this is different for you.”
He shrugs. “Is nice.” Then he leans toward me and kisses me.
My mouth melds against his, and I open up for his tongue. His kisses are long and deep, and god, maybe one day he’ll be putting his cock in me with the same rhythm, the same force.
My heart expands, swelling under his attention.
How did we get to this place?
Happiness flits through me, and in the next moment, I start to shake. He withdraws his hand from me.
“You...” I swallow hard. “You...”
“Took your breath away?” He winks.
“Yeah. That.”
He pulls me toward him, and I curl against him. My pants are still unbuckled, my briefs are still pulled down, dignity is not exactly something I’m emitting now, but it doesn’t matter.
Then we’re kissing once again, and I feel his lashes flutter against my cheek.
A noise at the door startles us apart.
I stiffen.
He stiffens.
“Is locked?” Dmitri whispers.
“The masseuse is never here,” I say miserably.
He grins. “Bad boy Oskar.”
The handle turns again.
“One moment!” Dmitri calls, hastily straightening his clothes. I do the same, though from his amused look I’m not quite achieving “professional workplace appropriate.”