Chapter 11
LEO
Touching Sergei might have been the biggest mistake of my life. I should have known better than to think I would ever be able to tame a man like him. I was struggling to remember the purpose of this interaction. Of what I truly expected to accomplish by testing him.
Because holy shit, the grip of Sergei’s ass around my cock was the kind of sensation that could make men compose symphonies and write odes in its honor.
Just like the rest of him, he had a thick ass I’d been losing a fighting battle with since he straddled me.
I hadn’t planned to touch it, but after the first slap, I couldn’t get myself to stop.
I liked hearing the echo of my palms against the soft, fleshy underside of his cheeks and how firm they felt against my skin.
I was an ass man. Loved fingering it, fucking it, putting my whole face in it. And he had one of the most tempting asses I’d ever come across.
I released the tempting globes because at some point I had to, right?
I traced the muscles in his body, his obliques, and my God, his pecs.
It was simply unfair for one man’s body to be so fucking perfect.
His nipples puckered under my touch, and each brush of my thumb over his skin sparked fire beneath my skin.
Thank fuck I was sitting down. My legs wouldn’t be able to support me if I were still standing.
Sergei ground down on me, and I groaned at the friction of my cock trapped in his tight heat.
So damn tight that the squeeze was almost painful.
I caught the back of his head and sought his lips with mine, sighing into his mouth when I achieved my goal.
This time, our kiss was messier as the rhythm of our bodies grew frantic.
I dropped my hands back to his ass, guiding his hips in rough thrusts, matching the desperate pace of our tongues.
He broke the kiss, panting, as his back arched involuntarily, a gasp slipping past his lips at the sudden change in angle.
A hoarse chuckle rumbled from my chest. “Found something you like?”
His eyes bored into mine, intense, unwavering. “Yes. You.”
My mouth went dry, and my brain scrambled for something clever to respond, but he got me, and the smirk on his lips said he knew it too.
“You can pretend all you want, Leo,” he said hoarsely, never missing a beat of his hips pumping. “But you need this as much as I do. You need the feel of my tight ass gripping your cock. This is the most alive I’ve seen you since we met.”
He rose completely off my cock then sat back on just the tip, grinding on it. I barely caught the cry that sprang to my lips as he teased my sensitive crown.
There was an infernal need gnawing at the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t just the insane urge to pound into him with reckless abandon.
It was more than that. It was the scorching gaze, the husky words, the blatant honesty in admitting his desire for me.
Every bit of Sergei was driving me to ruin, reducing me to a man starved for his poison.
“Damn you, Sergei,” I whispered so he could hear me before reclaiming his lips with mine.
Our teeth clashing together, the scrape of his stubble against my skin, the musky scent of him—everything was too intense, too real.
It wasn’t supposed to feel this way with him.
I’d fucked so many men over the years, and I couldn’t recall this intense burning, the feeling of finally grasping exactly what I needed but still wanting to release it just so I could chase it again.
“I’m close,” he moaned. “Stroke my dick, Leo. Make me come for you.”
I wrapped my hand around his thick, throbbing length, my anticipation for what was building in my gut making it impossible to hold back now.
His skin felt like silk over steel. He was so hard, and knowing I had done that to him sent a thrill through me.
Each stroke of my hand was rewarded with a gasp, a moan, his body twitching, pushing himself to meet every thrust of my hand.
His eyes were closed, his forehead slick with sweat.
I leaned forward and latched my teeth on to the side of his neck, biting down hard.
His mouth opened in a silent scream as he started to shake, the tremors spreading throughout his body.
A bead of precum smeared over my fingers, coating them in its slickness.
The musk of him, potent and erotic, filled the air, making my nostrils flare and my own arousal intensify.
I wanted him.
God, I wanted him so much it hurt.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” he chanted, breathing frantically as his body tensed and he spilled onto my hand and stomach.
I punched up, hissing at the tightest squeeze from his pulsating rim.
I couldn’t hold back. I buried myself deep inside him as my own release crashed down on me and I fell apart beneath him.
A cacophony of heavy breaths and grunts filled the shower in the aftermath of our climax. My back went slack, and Sergei’s legs trembled. He would have fared better on his own feet, but he rocked back against my lap and collapsed forward, burying his face into the crook of my neck and shoulder.
“Fuck, Leo,” he groaned. “That was even better than I thought it would be.”
“You’ve thought about it?” My voice came out hoarse and deeper than normal.
“Hmm.”
Was that a yes?
He placed a soft kiss on the side of my neck, then another along my shoulder. It shouldn’t have affected me. After everything we had just done—the heat, the desperation, the complete loss of control—that small, almost gentle gesture should have been nothing.
Instead, it scrambled me.
My breath caught, my heart kicking harder in my chest as if my body didn’t know how to process the shift. One second, he had been wrecked in my hands, undone, raw, and unrestrained, and now this? Soft. Careful. Almost sweet. Nothing at all like the mobster he was.
What the hell did I get myself into?
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening briefly at his back before I forced myself to release him. “My legs,” I muttered, clearing my throat as I leaned my head back against the tile. “They’re cramping. You’re sort of…heavy.”
It was a weak excuse, but I needed to put some distance between us. I couldn’t think clearly with him on me.
“Oh shit. Sorry.” Sergei shifted off me with a care that felt wildly out of place considering who he was. He steadied himself first before helping me adjust, his hands cautious, like I might break if he moved too fast.
Discombobulating didn’t even begin to cover it.
I watched him in silence as he reached between us, his movements efficient now, all business as he dealt with the condom, tying it off and stepping out of the shower to dispose of it properly without a single crude joke.
I sucked in a deep breath and tried to hide the fact I was hyperventilating.
Why did I think sex with him was going to be no different from sex with the many men I’d been with over the years?
Just a body for pleasure that would leave no impression on me after the act was done. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I got to my feet and almost collapsed back onto the shower bench, but I steeled my resolve. The faster I washed up, the sooner I could get out of the shower, which was designed for two grown men but felt too small when shared with Sergei, and it wasn’t because he was so much bigger.
On unsteady legs, I shuffled over to the faucet and adjusted the water temperature. By the time he rejoined me, I used the water spraying down on me as a shield.
Game face back on.
As much as I wanted to shrink away from him, I forced myself to remain in position as he stood behind me and took the soap from my palm.
“I’ll do it.”
I frowned. “I’m perfectly capable—”
“I know.” His voice was steady, but there was something in it, something that made me pause. “But I still want to take care of you.”
And there he went, kissing my shoulder again. I should be happy. My plan—semblance of a plan—seemed to be working. For whatever reason, this man was smitten with me, and I could use that to my advantage. Sex with him was but a small price to pay for the revenge I wanted.
Maxim Morozov deserved to go to prison for what he’d done. And if that meant using Sergei to put him there, that was exactly what I would do. I had to get justice for Brad.
So when he started lathering me up, I stood still. It was just a shower. How bad could it be? But it wasn’t clinical nor detached. His touch was unhurried as he spread the lather across my shoulders and chest as if he had all the time in the world.
“I don’t think you should go into the hospital today,” he said.
I stiffened. “We had sex one time, Sergei. You’re not going to dictate my life because of it.”
“I’m just saying. You had a bad accident last night. You’re exhausted. The hospital won’t fall apart because you take a day off to rest.”
I hated that he was making sense. There was still my car to take care of, the insurance to deal with, and getting Brad’s car serviced so I could use it in the interim.
And then there were the cops to deal with.
Why hadn’t they shown up since I’d fled the scene of an accident?
Sergei had to have had something to do with that.
“I’m on the night shift. I’ll see how I feel by then.”
His hands moved lower, and every pass of his palm lingered a fraction too long, memorizing the shape of me. It was unsettling, especially when he teased the belly button ring I’d gotten years ago after losing a bet. I’d ended up liking it, so I’d kept it.
“You didn’t seem surprised that I bottom.”
My head jerked back at the unexpected direction of our conversation. I’d been anticipating that he would press me more about taking the day off.
“With all my experience sleeping with other men, there’s little that surprises me anymore.”
His hand on my hip tightened, and he turned me around to face him. “It’s true that you and… Ugh, you are a swinger, then?”
“Yes.”
“You must have been with quite a few men.”
“More, but who’s counting?”