Since it seemed like the time for coyness had fled, I hadn’t bothered putting any of the covers over me, simply sprawling out naked.
And as he started to shove his jeans down and I got a glimpse of that big, alpha cock, my heart started to race—and my own cock started to fill again. If Dimitri saw that, I’d be so screwed, and not only in the way I expected to be. I started to flip over onto my stomach, and to my horror, Dimitri lunged forward, grabbing me by the hips and pinning me to the bed.
“Stay on your back.” His eyes glowed down at me, emphasizing the command in his voice. “We’re doing it like this tonight.”
“I’d be more comfortable—”
“You want me to tie you down, or are you going to do what I tell you?”
My chest clenched into a knot, and further down…fuck, fuck,fuck. No, I didnotwant him to tie me down. But I couldn’t stay on my back, either. He’d be able to see everything. My body’s perfectly natural reaction to being nervous. And he’d misinterpret all of it.
In desperation, I said, “You don’t want me on my back, okay? You’ll see that I’m a guy. You can kind of pretend when I’m face down, but not like this. How are you going to make your point if you can’t get it up?”
“I’m getting it up right now.” He let go of me to get his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, and I could see that indeed he was. I swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture into my dry throat. “Don’t worry about me,” Dimitri continued, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “I’ll fuck you just fine, Brook. All you have to do is not enjoy it.”
Fine. I could do that on my back as well as on my stomach. Dimitri could see how much he enjoyed working with a totally unresponsive man, with a man’s body and no interest in getting fucked.
When he got on the bed, nudging my legs apart with his knees, I didn’t react; I simply lay there, arms at my sides, head on the pillows, letting him adjust me however he wanted. The rough hair on his legs tickled my inner thighs.
Dimitri cocked his head, staring down at me like a logic problem that needed solving.
“How often does anyone touch you, Brook?”
“You know I haven’t gotten laid in a while,” I snapped, nervous and ill at ease and wishing I knew where the hell he was going with this so I could prepare to counter it.
He reached down and traced his fingers over my ribs, so lightly it made me shiver. “That’s not what I meant.”
More gentle strokes, with his fingertips only: across to the other side and along my ribs there, up to my chest, tracing the curves of my pecs but avoiding my nipples. And then down, along my sternum and circling my navel. Everywhere he touched me, my skin came to life, tingling even after he’d moved on. It felt like it should be visible, my body changed in his wake. Glowing, maybe, the same gold that shone out of his eyes as he watched his hand on my skin.
My breath had started coming faster, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
Dimitri took his hand away and leaned down, bracing himself on either side of my head.
He was almost close enough to kiss me. Those eyes with their gorgeous flecks, like moss on granite, filled my vision completely.
And now all I could think about was his lips on mine.
As if he’d read my mind, he whispered, “You kiss guys, right? When you used to fuck them.”
When I used to fuck them? Of course, I didn’t anymore, not now that I’d mated.
But he made it sound so permanent.
I had to swallow before I could say, “Yeah. I kiss guys. But you’re not gay. You don’t want to kiss me.”
Something flickered in those beautiful eyes, there and gone again. “Sure, I guess I don’t,” he said, and shifted down, his breath hot on my chin and my neck.
A kiss would’ve thrown me for a loop, but this was worse, somehow, the way he leaned down so slowly, his long hair brushing my lips and my jaw, and pressed his mouth to my chest.
So softly. Barely there. Hot and with a flick of his tongue. And then down, tasting my skin and finding one nipple, catching it between his lips.
Not reacting to that wasn’t an option. I arched up, a moan wavering out of me. And then another, higher and ending in a whimper, as he pulled my nipple into his mouth and suckled me, his tongue swirling around and around, tight suction arrowing straight down to my cock.
When he released me, he blew on my wet flesh, hot and cold and too much on my oversensitized skin.
His tongue trailed across my chest. Oh, Christ, he meant to go for the other one.
“Don’t,” I gasped. “Don’t, it’s—please.”
