Fuck. He always knew what buttons to push.
Ivan fucked up into his mouth, using his grip on Nix’s hair to guide him just like he wanted. He was as brutal as Nix had requested, thrusting hard into Nix’s throat with no thought to his need to breathe.
Mainly because Nix didn’t need to.
Normally Nix was messy with his blow jobs—spit and precum bathing Ivan’s lap by the end of it—but he was being obediently neat this time, suctioning his lips as tightly against Ivan’s cock as he was able to with the violent rocking of Ivan’s hips.
“Perfect,” Ivan muttered, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Fucking perfect.”
He found his release just as they pulled into their destination, and Nix swallowed every drop greedily. Ivan panted in the aftermath, trying to collect his wayward brain cells. Luckily Oleg knew better than to open the door or lower the partition before they’d signaled they were ready.
Ivan’s driver had learned that lesson the hard way.
Ivan released his tight grip on Nix’s hair, stroking the strands as Nix busied himself licking Ivan’s softening cock clean. He tucked Ivan back in almost daintily before zipping him back up with a fond pat.
He looked Ivan over skeptically afterward. “It’ll do,” he said after a moment. “Your lips are bruised from kissing, but nothing to be done about that.”
Ivan scoffed. As if Nix could talk. He looked wrecked—his red hair in disarray, his lips puffy, and his eyes red.
And his panties were soaked, just as he’d worried they would be.
It was a good thing he wasn’t the one with a meeting.
“You demanded a kiss,” Ivan reminded him.
Nix sniffed haughtily. “I asked politely. Besides—” He gave a sly grin. “You’re the one who attacked me in the first place.”
Yeah fucking right. Nix had been a pest from the moment they’d gotten into the car. Dancing his fingers up Ivan’s thigh, pressing his lithe body against him as he nuzzled into his neck. Ivan stuffing his fingers inside him had been the only way to get him to sit still.
Unashamed by his lie, Nix began pushing strands of his hair back into place, tightening his ponytail. “No sense playing the blame game,” he said with a smirk that said he knew exactly where the blame lay. “You look mostly respectable, I promise. Are you still nervous?”
Ivan narrowed his eyes. “I was never nervous.”
But perhaps he’d been…unsettled. He wouldn’t put it past Nix plotting the whole seduction as a means of distraction. He was perceptive that way.
“You shouldn’t be. There’s nothing he can do to you.” Nix snapped his fingers, and his soaked underwear was replaced with a clean pair. “And if all goes well, you can fuck me on the way home in celebration.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you can fuck me on the way home in consolation.”
Ivan laughed as he smoothed down his shirt. Of course. It wouldn’t be the first time Nix had ridden him in the cramped back seat. He could be remarkably creative in tight spaces.
Ivan’s laughter had a soft smile tugging at Nix’s lips. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“I’m sure,” Ivan told him, knocking on the partition. Five seconds later and Oleg was at the door, opening it for him.
Ivan pressed a final, filthy kiss to Nix’s mouth before exiting the car. “Don’t flirt too hard with Oleg while I’m away. I’d hate to have to kill my loyal driver.”
“No promises!” Nix called after him.
The officethe assistant led Ivan into was smaller than Ivan’s but tastefully decorated, with a certain warmth his had always lacked.
Anton Petrov didn’t rise to greet Ivan, but he didn’t look overly hostile at his arrival either.
He nodded at Ivan as he entered, pushing aside the papers he’d been glancing over at his desk. He was a relatively attractive older man, somewhere in his late fifties, with plenty of gray running through his dark-blond hair. “Ivan Kozlov. I admit I was surprised when you requested a meeting.”
As he would be. Anton was the head of a rival Mafia family Ivan’s crew brushed up against every now and then. They were relatively small potatoes, neither a threat nor a formidable ally, and Ivan had always ignored them as such.
