9. Hand jobs are for losers
NINE
HAND JOBS ARE FOR LOSERS
The breath he releases is sharp, surprised, when I prop my foot on his shoulder and push him backward.
I can see disappointment flash across his expression before he tamps it down.
Silly man.
Though, it’s reassuring to know he can take rejection—some of the men at Oakwood aren’t so good at handling that.
But despite proving he has basic human decency, right now, I want some separation between us. A little distance.
So I can give my lungs a chance to work.
Maybe to tease, too.
It’s been a day.
Once he’s lounging back in the water, I use my other foot to find his dick again and hide a smirk when he jumps.
He didn’t think I’d touch him?
After years of being cockblocked by the literal owner of the cock I want?!
HA!
Keeping him pinned in place with the foot propped on his shoulder, I let my toes smooth along his length then use my big one to rim the head. He grinds his jaw when I do that, so I spear it between my big and second toe and squeeze.
“Kotik.” He grunts, his legs spreading out wider as he slips deeper into the water.
Divine glee fills me.
That I can make a man like Maxim sound so hungry has me openly studying his expression as I move my other foot and use it to push his dick against his Adonis belt.
My big toe swirls and swoops up and down the length of him before I drift lower, along the seam of his balls, which hug close to his body.
His abs tauten while I shift lower still, rubbing over the silky skin of his perineum before lightly tracing his asshole.
A part of me expected him to shout at that—men and their assholes are a sensitive topic, or so I’ve been led to believe—but Maxim somehow dominates the bath despite the fact my toe is kissing cousins with the pucker of his ass.
It’s like he grows too. Not just his dick. But his muscles. And no, I don’t mean in a Captain America kind of way. Just that his arms slide along the rim of the tub and he takes up more real estate than the laws of physics permit.
Eyes locked on mine, his cock leaks as I rub that soft area, discerning the creases with the tip of my toe.
And at the proof of his response, a rush of my own arousal slams into me.
That he’s letting me do this. That he’s not complaining or bitching.
That I have power here has me growing hot under the collar.
If I wore a collar…
A part of me knows that should he slide his fingers through my folds, he’d find me drenched. But he seems to realize that I need this and he doesn’t struggle.
For a man who, technically, isn’t in a position of power, somehow he’s the one dominating the space.
And I love that.
Because it makes it even more impactful that I’m making his cock leak, that my feet are providing him this kind of pleasure as I take ownership of something he’s denied me.
Set the date, indeed.
“You are so hot, Maxim,” I growl, then because he gave me this, I give him: “I think about you when I’m horny. I think about how you’ll hold me and kiss me. I think about whether or not my pleasure will matter to you—”
For the first time, he looks set to argue.
I tsk. “I think about what it’ll feel like for us to be together. You’ve been an out-of-reach crush for so long, moy kavaler, that fantasies were all I had. And porn, of course.”
He arches a brow at my wicked grin but settles back against the tub, appearing exactly like a pasha who deserves to be worshiped, who is well-used to this kind of adoration so long as pleasure reigns supreme.
It makes everything inside me clench.
This is no small man. This is a king who will let me explore my sexuality.
Deep in my being, I know he is not just worthy of my attention, but worthy of me.
“You want to experiment on me, pchelka?”
I lick my lips. “Would you let me?”
“Da.”
So simple. When he’s ordinarily so complicated and difficult to read.
“Why did you wait?”
Sending my toe higher, I palpate his balls gently, trying to find the rhythm that’ll decimate him.
I can already feel the activation in my core from this odd stance. Throw in tonight’s impromptu workout and I know if I take this further, my abs’ll ache like a son of a bitch tomorrow.
Sounds like tomorrow’s problem to me…
It does mean I’ll have to work smarter, not harder.
I use the ball of my foot to stroke his length, that throbbing vein somehow transmitting through my skin as if it’s my heart that’s racing.
“Why did I wait? Aside from the fear you’d kill anyone who dared get close to me?”
“Aside from that,” he dismisses.
“Nobody caught my eye. Why would I want a boy to use me, to discard me, to take my firsts, when I had a man who showed me, repeatedly, that I was his priority? Who’d cherish those firsts.”
His nostrils flare. “That doesn’t sound very feminist of you.”
“Don’t make it seem like you’re not happy I waited.
” I cluck my tongue. “Anyway, the right to choose is feminist. And I wasn’t waiting for marriage, unlike some ultra traditionalists I know.
” He smirks at my dig then grunts when I corkscrew his glans with my toes.
“If you’d been my age, I would have fucked you so fast you wouldn’t have known what was heading your way. ”
Tired of talking, I move both my feet, reveling in the slow hiss that escapes him. I cup him within the gap they make and pet him.
The muscles in my inner thighs start to ache fast, but it’s worth it because he looks in pain. I sliced his chest earlier and nothing. This makes him react.
Suddenly, I know what my purpose is and I don’t think he has any clue what kind of Loki-like imp he’s invoked.
I’m going to drive him insane with wanting me.
He’ll be the first to break.
Set a date? HA!
Pressing his shaft back into his abs, I tweak the sensitive head before sliding him through the gap between my big and second toe once more. He releases a low groan as I speed up, moving faster when I see his delts bunch.
He gasps as his dick flies out from between the controlled slide and I quickly flatten the arch of my foot over the tip, letting my heel settle at the base of his shaft, adding extra pressure while I torment the leaking slit.
He grabs the foot digging into his thigh and lifts it to his mouth.
For a second, I falter, watching his eyes on me while he sucks my big toe between his lips then bites. Hard.
And it’s as if there’s some heretofore undocumented path between my foot and my clitoris because— “Holy hell, Maxim.” I groan, head falling as he soothes the bite with his tongue, laving it like he’s licking my clit.
I twist my foot, my other toes working on the sensitive head.
Waiting, waiting…
Building, building…
I see the moment he snaps and I glory in it.
The hand holding my foot tightens around the delicate bones and he lowers it to his crotch, then positions them around his dick. Clamping my toes together, he situates his cock into the gap and rocks his hips upward, fucking that small space he made for himself.
When his climax breaks, I revel in his tension. Every muscle bulges. His face crumples in relief, fingers contracting around my feet to the point of pain.
The way his cum squirts has my pussy clenching.
That could’ve been inside me if he weren’t so goddamn stubborn.
It’s a hard and fast release, and I watch, intoxicated as he pants through it, still using my feet, milking himself of every drop as he relishes the prolonged contact.
His cum-spattered stomach draws my attention. My toes play with the mess he made, unsure why, just knowing I like to see and feel the proof of his attraction to me.
Then, like that, he relaxes. Expression smoothing out as he sags into the bathtub.
“Koketka.”
Eyes alight with glee, I nod. “Minx. I prefer that one.”
“You would.”
“Feel better?” My foot slides up his abdomen.
“Infinitely.”
I trace under the cut from earlier until he grabs my foot, holds it in place, then makes me squeal when he lifts it to his mouth and nips my big toe before sucking it in deep.
For a second, I freeze as I realize he’s licking his cum off me.
And I get my first lesson from him—nothing is out-of-bounds. Nothing.
Huh, maybe it’s my third lesson?
Seeing as he let me fondle his asshole with my toe and give him a foot job…
But all thoughts fade when he sucks, hard, and lashes my toes with his tongue until every ticklish bone in my body is triggered.
The water thrashes as I yell, “MARCO!”
It’s his turn to freeze, then he growls, “Did you just call me another man’s name?!”
Relieved the ticklish sensation stopped, I nag, “No. You’re supposed to say Polo.”
“What does Marco Polo have to do with anything?”
My nose wrinkles. “Nothing. It’s a game.”
He rolls his eyes but replaces my foot in the water. “What kind of game?”
“It’s like ‘it’ but you’re blindfolded and that person shouts ‘Marco’ and other players shout ‘Polo.’”
His lips purse. “So, you have to rely on your ears to figure out where they are?”
“Yeah.”
“What does—” He shakes his head. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Let’s play. I’ll chase you down.”
I gape at him. “Huh?”
“Maybe it’s a good thing I’ll be the one blindfolded, Victoria,” he croons, “seeing as your ears don’t appear to be working and I could find you in the pitch dark, anywhere, anytime, without even trying.”
Wait a second—when did this happen?! When did Indulgent Maxim return?! When I wasn’t looking?!
“We don’t have to—”
“I think we do. You can hide in any of the rooms on this floor and I’ll find you.”
“You don’t know that!” I huff.
“I will always find you, korovka.”
I scrunch up my nose at him. “You and that word. Always.”
“Would you prefer ‘never?’”
“No. But you better live up to it, Maxim. I’m placing a lot of faith in this ‘always’ stuff.”
His lips twitch. “What do I win when I catch you?”
“You might not catch me!”
“I’ll catch you.”
A shiver rushes down my spine. “Always.”
“You’re getting the picture.”
I bite my lip. “Not tonight.”
“Tired?”
“A little. But… I have a better idea. Just not tonight.”
“Have I inadvertently stumbled on something that’ll make you hot, Victoria?”
“Maybe,” I prevaricate, feeling oddly shy. “I won’t know until we try.”
“Tell me.”
“Remember I told you I snoop?”
He shakes his head but he’s smiling. Goddamn, I love Indulgent Maxim.
“What did you overhear?”
“A conversation.”
“Between?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Do you trust them? Is the source reliable?”
“Very.”
“Okay, what did you hear?”
“How her partner chased her down in their apartment and fucked her. I wasn’t supposed to hear… but I did.”
He studies me. “You’d like this?”
“I trust you. You’ve worked hard to build that trust, haven’t you?”
“Yes, and I don’t feel like ruining it when you inevitably freak out. I’m a killer, Victoria. One of your little friends being stalked by their sophomore boyfriend in a dorm room is a lot different to the reality of being hunted by me.”
Stalked.
Hunted.
The words, intended to discourage me, have me reaching down as I spread my legs in the water.
His eyes lock on my pussy as I push on his shoulder again and then lever my thigh to the side, making space in the tight confines of the bath, all while retaining that singular point of contact.
“You want me to hunt you down, Victoria? Want to know that there is no place you can hide from me?”
I rub my fingers over my clit, annoyed by how the water messes with my natural lubrication but too turned on to fight it.
“No place at all,” he repeats. “I’ll find you. No matter where you go, no matter what you do—you’ll never be free from me.”
I shudder. Fantasy and reality blur into one terrifying picture that enhances a truth I’ve always known—I’m his.
To the ends of the earth and back.
“Are you thinking about what I’ll do when I catch you?”
With a timorous nod, I slide my fingers down to my slit, circle the entrance, and grind the butt of my wrist into my clit.
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
“What if you run from me and I chase after you anyway?”
“You’re mine.” Need roars through my veins. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Something wistful pops into his expression but he shakes it off to ask, “Are you wet, Victoria?”
“Very.”
“And you’re happy with your fingers when they could be mine?”
“Maybe you should only look. You’re too cocky for your own good.”
Set a date.
BAH!
“But I thought we were interested in equality.”
I arch my back as sensation ripples through me, sharp but short. “We are. But I want you to watch me.”
“Why?”
“Because I like your eyes on me.” I pant.
Wherever his focus touches, I feel burning heat that sets my soul alight, forcing me to embrace how no one’s ever studied me this intently.
I blossom, reveling in the intensity he focuses on me like a spotlight.
“One day, pchelka, I’ll chase you down and it won’t be your fingers stroking that tight little cunt. It’ll be mine,” he growls. “I’ll impale you on my dick until you can taste me in your throat and I won’t stop until you scream my name—”
I should hate that his words make me come.
But I can’t.
I close my eyes, trembling as my orgasm tears me in two. Better than anything I can normally do with my fingers alone.
Apparently, I appreciate a captive audience.
Who knew?
Though…
In a family with very little attention given to the kids, it probably stands to reason that I’m this way.
Absently, as I catch my breath, I wonder if Inessa and Camille dig being watched too. Inessa gave me the idea that being chased was hot. What else do we crave after growing up in that hellhole of a house?
“Why don’t I trust that expression?”
Lazily, I pop an eye open. “Hmm?”
“Anyone else looks relaxed after they come. You look like you’re writing an essay.”
Damn the man for reading me right. “Never you mind what’s going on in my head. That’s private.”
His lips quirk. “Time for bed.”
“Huh?”
“You need to sleep. As, for that matter, do I.”
“Are you sleeping in there?” I motion to the honey-colored bedroom.
“You chose that room, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then.”
I gust out my cheeks.
Well, then.