Lead and Follow (16 page)

He slipped his hand into hers. He’d directed last night, and had been glad to, but this morning he needed something more. A sign of acceptance. So he let her tug him down. She slid her hand up his arm and grasped the back of his neck.

Her legs and other arm were wrapped around Paul, but she took Dima’s mouth. Everything soft and apologetic. Her tongue slipped over his lips until he opened for her. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Dima mine.”

He pulled back. Dark tension still wound up the back of his neck where her fingers were equally taut. Her words weren’t exactly the same as an apology for holding him responsible for her injury, but they were better than nothing.

The rapid conclusion all this drove home was how much he relied on having her in his life. Everything had tipped. In his mind, they were no longer just partners. He needed more, while she seemed content with keeping things the way they were—or recklessly courting novelty. What if he couldn’t give her either, when he’d willingly given her everything for so long?

He stroked her hair, smoothing back the pale feathery strands. “Yours, eh? How would you take me if you could, little one?”

A softly wicked quirk took her glossy lips. “Any way I could get you.”

“And you?” Dima turned to Paul, who he’d certainly not forgotten. Vibrant blue eyes were compassionate and watchful at the same time.

Paul quickly pushed those heavier emotions away. His grin came out to play. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I don’t mean it to be.” He scrubbed a hand over Paul’s short, crisp hair. “Tell me what you wish this morning.”

Red washed across the tops of Paul’s cheeks, and the skin around his eyes went tight. His mouth flattened a little. Whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. “I…I want to suck you.”

Ah. There it was. No matter his wants, he had struggled with voicing that. Far be it from Dima to deny a reward. He took Paul’s mouth in a fast, hot kiss. These kisses were different than the night before, which had been in the moment. They’d been swept away. This meeting of mouths was a deliberate push on Dima’s part, even harder than he’d kissed Lizzie. His limbs tingled under a steady whoosh of tension—the good kind.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Lizzie watching them both. Still under Paul, she smiled as heat sparked in her gaze. What a strange, oddly backwards situation.

That didn’t mean he’d give up a moment.

Standing, he let the towel drop in a slow, deliberate move. He practically expected Lizzie’s admiration, but the way Paul drank in the view was an extra-special hit of power. Those jean-clad hips flexed into Lizzie, and her breath caught. Dima wondered how wet she must be. His mouth actually watered at the thought, but he’d had his lips and tongue all over her the previous night.

Today, this morning…this would be for Paul. A reward. A thank you. The best sort of initiation after all he’d already offered them.

Dima leaned against Lizzie’s huge pile of pillows. His elbows dug into her yielding mattress and quilt. Neither Lizzie nor Paul moved as he inched back to the headboard. His legs stretched out flat.

Turning his hand over, he touched first Paul, then Lizzie. Just because he could. “Come here.”

Though Dima said it softly, they both obeyed at once. As if they’d done it a hundred times, they arranged themselves without needing to consult. Lizzie wiggled over his legs and nestled against his side. He stroked her shoulders, winding his fingertips into her hair. The muscles at the base of her skull were tight. He’d see what could be done about that.

Paul knelt at Dima’s side. Thick thighs folded over his calves, and his hands rested palms up on his knees. His gaze was absolutely locked on Dima’s cock, which reared up to meet him. As his tongue flicked out to dampen the corner of his mouth, Paul glanced at them both.

A glimmer of sympathy rose in Dima’s chest, warm and gentle. He reached for the other man and touched his waist. Paul’s lats flinched. His skin was so hot it verged on feverish.

Dima traced a path up Paul’s ribs, over his chest and one not-quite-flat nipple. He cradled Paul’s jaw, outlined his mouth. Eyelids drifted to half-mast that said nothing about sleep and everything about desire. Dima understood. He was feeling covetous.

“What do you think, little one?”

Lizzie pressed an openmouthed kiss to the top of Dima’s pecs. The air in the room thickened—harder to breathe, yet more precious for it. “Of what?”

“Will you like seeing this mouth on my cock?”

She shuddered, her breasts rubbing against him. Her hips surged. “Yes. Very much.”

“So you’ll be making both of us happy,” Dima said, this time directing the words to Paul. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Paul didn’t speak, but his head jerked in a tiny nod of agreement. Dima tugged, pulling the other man’s tense face closer. He took a kiss. Hard. Hot. The thrust of his tongue in the blond’s mouth became a mimic of what his cock would do.

He thought he might need to push Paul. Maybe use a little pressure to force his choice. As perverted as that might be, he didn’t mind the idea. Paul had already given voice to his wishes. A demonstration of power might work him past the numerous hurdles in his mind.

However, they’d barely separated their lips, with Dima’s hand tightening on the back of the bartender’s neck, when Paul descended. He didn’t exactly take his time, but he didn’t speed either, before planting one wet kiss at the base of Dima’s throat.

Dima clenched Paul’s warm skin and Lizzie’s soft shoulder. She stroked over him, petting and soothing. Paul turned his head, kissed her too. The two pulled back and traded a look of silent communication. Dima was too busy maintaining his calm to figure out what it meant. His spine was hard and stiff, his legs burning with the energy needed to keep himself in check.

Lizzie licked his throat until her mouth hovered over his ear. “You love this, don’t you?”

He chuffed a quiet laugh. “Of course I do. I am a man, after all.”

She drew back until they looked into each other’s eyes, even as Paul ringed a damp circle over Dima’s navel and scraped his teeth over the tender flesh beneath. Her expression was curiously difficult to read. Expectant somehow, but he didn’t know what she wanted.

“You are,” she whispered. “I know.”

Would he ever be
her
man? The lonely, echoing thought jabbed in his mind, only to be immediately obliterated in the wet furnace of Paul’s mouth.

Dima’s head jerked back. His skull thumped against the wrought-iron headboard. He locked a solid grip on Lizzie’s hip.

Paul wasn’t screwing around. If Dima had been asked to guess, he would’ve expected a few licks and acclimatizing, perhaps strokes by hand. But Paul had enveloped the head of Dima’s cock in his hot mouth, sucking deep. His hands folded around Dima’s hips, fingers digging firmly beneath the sharp tips of his hipbones. Tight tension rocked higher. Harder. And fuck it all, but Paul kept sucking.

His flicked his gaze over the whole length of Dima’s body.
Amused
. He had his first mouthful of cock, the lean hollows of his cheeks pulling inward, and he only looked amused.

Dima thought his brain might turns circles. Lizzie’s lips parted, as if she were sucking along with Paul. Her steamy breath washed over his shoulder.

From Dima’s vantage, Paul was mostly shoulders with his jeans-wrapped ass rising behind. Small muscles worked and twitched across his spine as his head bobbed. He pulled his mouth off Dima’s dick with a small pop. His lips were glossy and slick.

Pleasure pulsed through Dima’s balls, but he held it back. He rubbed a flat thumb over the side of Paul’s face. “Well? How do you like it?”

The other man grinned. He scraped blunt-tipped fingers down Dima’s thighs. “Not bad. Helps that you’re shower fresh.”

Dima and Lizzie both laughed. He brushed back her hair, so that he could see the mossy green of her eyes. “And you?”

She made a quiet purr deep in her throat and undulated against his side. “I like watching.” She bent her mouth into an obviously fake pout. “I like
doing
better. I’m left out.”

He kissed her, but when she tried to pull away, he sank his teeth into her bottom lip. Gently. Then a little harder because he liked the soft moan she poured into his mouth. Paul’s hand wrapped around Dima’s cock before he licked a flat tongue over the head. Dima barely managed to hold his hips from flat-out fucking the man’s mouth.

With a handful of hair, Dima tugged Lizzie’s mouth away from his. “Then get down there and help him.”

Chapter Fifteen

Lizzie was finding it harder and harder to focus on what she should do, namely fixing things with Dima. Those thoughts hightailed it in favor of the feast of beautiful manflesh in her bed. This was therapy. This was fun. Considering the unexpected weight in her heart, she needed both.

With her tongue, yes, but mostly with her teeth, Lizzie slid down the lean, graceful, defined expanse of Dima’s body. The striated cap of his shoulder. The sweep of his pecs. The exquisite definition of his torso, from lats to ribs to tense, defined abdominals. The man was a work of erotic art. She’d always believed that perfection to be limited to when he danced, but perhaps artificial barriers had been created by habit.

Or fear.

She wasn’t afraid now. So wet, she was probably leaving a streak on the sheets as she slinked down. Didn’t matter. Her bed. Her men.

Despite the clasp of Dima’s hand on the back of her neck, she didn’t join Paul right away. Just another moment of watching. Outside of porn, she’d never seen a man blowing another man before last night. Paul did so with surprising gusto. He seemed the sort of guy who dove in hardcore once the decision was made, as he had when fucking her in Dima’s dressing room. Built for experiences and sensations in the moment.

So different from her Dima.

“Let me show you,” she whispered against Paul’s distended cheek. She kissed him there, feeling Dima’s defined bulk just underneath.

Paul slipped off and nodded, but he didn’t back out of the way. He stayed close enough to kiss. Lizzie grinned and did so, before taking Dima in her mouth, relishing the close shift from lips to cock. Back and forth. She could trade off with them all day. All night.

That she already tasted Dima’s salty precome said he was a lot closer than she’d expected. Paul—winning him like this—was probably doing fantastic things to her partner’s libido. Power and sexuality.

With that thought came a surprising rush of possessiveness. She wanted to make an impression on Dima. One that had nothing to do with their profession, their long years together, or the hasty, unfair words she’d lobbed at him that morning.

“Relax your throat,” she said to Paul. “Keep this angle so you can take it deep.”

She returned to Dima’s cock and sucked him into her mouth. Paul had already juiced the thick, veined shaft, so it was an easy thing to slide all the way to the hilt. Dima hissed and his hips surged. Paul grabbed the back of her head, holding her there, until she couldn’t think beyond the way her mouth, her throat, filled and stretched. Deeper still. Tears watered, and saliva dripped from one corner of her mouth.

“Fuck,” Dima groaned before yanking them both away. A manic darkness clouded his eyes. “So good.”

She smiled past a surprising blush and wiped her mouth. Satisfied at having made that strong impression, and having earned the reward of his praise, she needed to bring Paul back in. Paul kept it from being a power play—kept it just plain play. “Your turn. Think you can deep throat our Dima?”

“Why go in by halves, eh?”

With a sure grin, Paul changed positions. Taking a gratifying degree of initiative in his own pleasure, he spread Dima’s legs and settled between them on all fours. His hands braced on both of Dima’s hips, pinning her partner to the mattress. Lizzie hid a flicker of amusement when Dima looked ready to protest. Only briefly. Then he seemed to settle in for the ride. Good. He was too tightly strung to be in charge all the time.

She wanted him to learn that, to trust that.

Paul sucked him just as she’d demonstrated. Sure and strong all the way down. Slow and lingering all the way up. The contest between those toned male bodies was told in grunts, sharp breaths, but even more so in the little ripples of tight tendons and bunched muscles. Paul’s forearms and triceps stood out in relief as he gripped Dima’s lean hips. Every ounce of passionate expectation was shown in the squeeze and flex of his cut abs.

That Paul could take charge did gorgeous things to Lizzie’s arousal. She was watching gladiators in a sweaty duel—if gladiators face-fucked one another. Smiling fully, she sat back and admired Paul’s technique, playing with her nipples. Sure enough, Dima’s entire shaft disappeared each time. He seemed torn between watching her hands at work on her breasts and Paul as he swallowed cock like a goddamn pro.

She wiggled behind Paul, draped lightly across his back and held his head down. Fully down. At first he seemed ready to fight that pressure. Only he wasn’t the man she was used to knowing. Paul inhaled through his nose. Every muscle relaxed as he settled in, with Dima’s prick tucked down his throat. He groaned, and Dima answered with a growled curse of his own.

She met Dima’s eyes again, barely recognizing the look she found. Heavy-lidded. Needy.
Vulnerable
. That wasn’t him at all. Yet there he was, prostrate and restrained by the most erotic hold.