Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
DIMA
Not once had Dima brought home one of his infrequent hookups since he bought the condo a few years ago. Jake was the first man he’d shared this bed with. Having him here should have felt weird, invasive. But much like how Jake had fit himself into the empty cracks of Dima’s everyday life, he fit here, as well.
They’d cuddled close after coming down from the high of orgasm. Cleaning up would be necessary sooner rather than later, though Dima chuckled to himself at the thought of Jake unable to leave his side because they’d become stuck together with dry come.
“Hmm?” Jake’s blissed out state rendered him nonverbal, apparently.
If Dima allowed this sweet man to leave his arms, he wanted to ensure Jake had a reason to return. Val left a convenient excuse in the kitchen. “Want some baklava?”
Jake jerked. “There’s baklava? How the hell did you hide baklava from me?”
“I didn’t. Val brought it.”
“Hell yeah, I want baklava.” Jake dipped his head for a kiss, which turned into two, then three.
Dima wished he was young enough for a second round so soon. He stretched his hand lower, content to lavish pleasure on the other man instead. He’d relish getting his mouth back on Jake’s perfect cock as a more than equivalent dessert.
Jake batted him away, wrenching from Dima’s grasp. “Nope, you promised me baklava.”
And Dima didn’t dare renege. They cleaned up together, shifting around each other in Dima’s en suite as naturally as they’d shared everything else. Jake did leave Dima’s reach when they finally returned downstairs, ducking into his bedroom for a moment and emerging with his cell phone. He slid into what had become his seat at the small dining table as he tapped at the screen. Dima unpacked the dessert and split it between two plates before joining him.
Sweetness exploded across his tongue as he savored the first bite. Dima couldn’t wait to lick the taste from Jake’s mouth after they finished their treat. He hoped to tempt Jake back to his bed, not bearing the idea of them sleeping apart when his pillows now carried Jake’s scent.
Jake’s fork clattered against his plate. “Fuck.” He stared at his phone, his cheeks losing their rosy hue as the blood drained from his face.
Pastry stuck in Dima’s throat. “What’s wrong?”
“My orders got changed.” Mingled fear and dismay replaced all Jake’s earlier pleasure. “I have to report back to Vandenberg next week.”