Wait, wasn’t he going to crow about it? Trash-talk me, or something? Tell me how he was going to make me scream?
But then guilt smote me, even through my anger and confusion. “You know you don’t have to do all the chores, right? I can load the dishwasher. I didn’t pay you to be my maid, Dimitri. I mean, wasn’t the actual housecleaner here this morning?”
“She’s not here now,” he said mildly. “I really don’t mind. Go upstairs. Seriously.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I got up and left the kitchen, more confused than ever. Before Dimitri, I’d literally never seen an alpha do anything that could be construed as domestic labor. Was that my family and pack’s shitty attitudes about preserving the proper social hierarchy, or was it a function of being a rich kid whose family didn’t do a ton of domestic labor, period? It wasn’t like my mother washed her own dishes either, after all. I only knew how to take care of myself in some basic way because I hadn’t bothered to use my allowance to pay for someone to do it for me while I was away at college.
Christ, Dimitri had me all turned around and upside-down.
But the one thing I did know for sure, was: He obviously didn’t really want to fuck me that much, if it could wait, as far as he was concerned, until the dishes were done and the kitchen cleaned up. I was a convenient hole for him, nothing more. And not even a particularly appealing one at that, apparently.
All right. My pride was truly on the line now. There was no way I’d let him win this one.
I stripped down and got in the shower, hissing in pleasure as the hot water beat down on my hard-as-rocks shoulder muscles. Dimitri did have a point about needing to relax. Maybe I should ask my mother where she went for her spa days.
My hair shampooed, I reached for the soap—and inspiration struck.
I could cheat. If I got off before he even touched me… My cock, half-hard since we’d started talking about having sex—and I really had been neglecting my body’s needs lately, clearly, if talking about Dimitri fucking me could have that effect—gave a hopeful twitch.
That would be contrary to the spirit of proving Dimitri wrong, wouldn’t it? And yet…it wasn’t like we’d made any kind of agreement about the terms. It wasn’t cheating if there weren’t any rules.
My hand wrapped around my cock, and I bit back a groan as heat lanced through me, from the base of my cock to my balls and into the center of me. Christ, I didn’t usually have such a hair-trigger.
It only took a couple of minutes of stroking myself off, biting my lips to keep in any betraying sounds that Dimitri’s alpha ears might’ve picked up, before I was right on the edge.
My ass clenched around nothing. Without thinking about it, I reached around behind myself, soapy fingers slipping into the crack of my ass, ready to push inside and—I jerked my hand away, cursing, curling it into a fist.
No. No, I didn’t need a fucking finger in my ass to come. I didn’t need anything in my ass, big and thick and hot, shoving me open and taking me apart…
The moan I’d been suppressing tore out of my throat as my orgasm burst out of my cock, painting the tiles and dripping down over my fingers. I slumped against the wall of the shower, chest heaving, the world swimming around me.
Okay. That had been weird. But I’d gotten myself off, so mission accomplished. Dimitri wouldn’t stand a chance.
But now I needed to put my fingers in my ass after all to make sure I’d gotten all clean. Well, I had a good reason. I should’ve thought of that before. Two fingers were a tight fit, but they’d get me cleaner. My breath started coming faster again. I twisted them, probing all around, my balls starting to get all heavy and tight again.
Fuck. I pulled my fingers out and turned around, spreading my cheeks and rinsing thoroughly. The water beat down on my hole, too light, too much of a tease.
There. Clean. Dimitri wouldn’t make me come. I had willpower, dammit. And my pride. And a point to make.
I didn’t want him any more than he wanted me.
Chapter 13
No Rules
Dimitri thumped up the stairs a minute after I’d settled myself on the bed to let the last of the dampness from the shower evaporate and scroll through the emails that’d come in since I left the office.
Again, not cheating. If guys could recite baseball statistics while they fucked in order to hold off an orgasm, surely I could use the sales team’s complaints about their commission structure to get myself not in the mood.
The half-open door creaked as he pushed it wide. I glanced up in time to catch him tilting his head, scenting the air.
“You jerked off in the shower,” he said. “That’s cheating.”
Dammit.
But I wasn’t going to let him throw me off my game. “There’s no cheating if there weren’t any rules,” I said loftily.
That earned me a slowly-growing smile that became a terrifyingly predatory grin as he advanced on the bed. He moved slowly, too, enough that it made me want to scream. Dimitri’s shirt came off, whipped over his head and tossed carelessly aside, and he had his jeans unbuttoned by the time he made it to the side of the bed.
