I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I forgot to thank you. For driving me home and getting me in bed. So—thank you. That was really nice of you.”
The words sounded as stilted as they felt coming out of my mouth, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
But Dimitri’s lips quirked in that half-smile of his, and his eyes warmed. “You’re welcome,” he said, in that low, almost-growl that never failed to make a shiver run down my spine. This time it didn’t stop there, the vibration of his voice landing somewhere south of my tailbone. “I’ll make dinner.”
He left my bedroom before I could do something incredibly stupid, like beg him to get in the shower with me.
I didn’t dare jerk off, knowing he’d be able to scent it on me. But when my hands started to wander, the water beating down to cover any sounds I might make, I didn’t force myself to stop, allowing myself a moment of indulgence. Two fingers crammed into my hole, slick with soap, were nothing more than a horrible tease: not big enough, not hot enough…nothim.
I yanked them out, miserable and aching and unsatisfied, and started to wash up.
Dinner. Finishing our talk. Not that there was a whole lot more to say, though. I only had to make sure I had his buy-in on telling my mother a passel of lies, and then—
With a high-pitched yelp, I jumped and flailed and barely caught myself before I slipped as the bathroom door opened suddenly with enough force to bounce off the wall.
I watched wide-eyed and frozen in shock as Dimitri stalked into the bathroom, glowing golden-gray eyes fixed on me as he started to tear off his clothes. He’d changed out of his suit at some point while I slept, and his T-shirt and jeans were on the floor in five seconds flat.
And then he opened the shower door and stepped in with me, crowding me against the wall.
“What,” I stammered. “What?”
Without a word, still staring down at me with an intense, unreadable expression in those eyes, he trailed his hand down over my stomach, my muscles clenching as he touched me, brushed his fingers over my erection, and slipped them between my legs. They found their target unerringly, two fingertips slipping into my hole without resistance.
I gasped, trying to spread my legs as much as I could without losing my balance. His hand still felt enormous shoved between my thighs. Awkward. Like it shouldn’t fit there.
Perfect.
“I knew you were getting yourself off. I knew, and I had to—you were already doing this,” he growled, and shifted closer, hemming me in against the wall. My back hit the tiles. And Dimitri’s other hand flew up, pressing across my throat and pinning me there. “You were fingering your pretty hole, Brook. Don’t try to tell me different.”
I might’ve answered, but he shoved his fingers in so deep I moaned instead, squeezing my eyes shut. “Look at me while I fuck you open,” he commanded me, all alpha, and I opened them again, unable to break his gaze as he twisted his fingers and screwed them into me almost brutally hard.
His eyes filled my vision completely, and I wanted to close my own so badly, to break that connection, to keep him from seeing right through me and into my mental turmoil, like looking through a sheet of fractured glass.
But he’d told me what to do, and I couldn’t help it.
Dimitri finger-fucked me ruthlessly, thrusting his hand deeper until I went up on my toes, the hand on my throat shifting to keep me up as I did, dangling helplessly between his grip on my neck and his fist between my legs. My whole body juddered against the tiles. If he hadn’t been pinning me by the neck, my head would’ve slammed into the wall, but I couldn’t move anything but my arms—and I grabbed onto his shoulders, clinging on for dear life.
The three fingers pulled out partway, and he adjusted his hand. Oh, no.
“Dimitri, I can’t,” I choked out. “I can’t take—”
“Yes, you fucking can,” he snarled, and forced four fingers into my body, eyes never leaving mine, his pupils dilated to black pools behind the gold.
I couldn’t, I couldn’t, and he was going to rip me in half—except that I came like that, hips jerking helplessly into the empty air, my body seizing up around his hand and clenching almost painfully.
Slumped against the tiles, so cold against my back with the heat of the shower and his body at my front, I felt like reality had slipped away: clouds of steam, the harsh panting of our breaths, my throat tight beneath his palm. And most of his hand still half-buried inside my well-used ass, not moving now, butthere. Like he owned me and could just…leave it there, if he wanted.
It felt surreal. And I still couldn’t move or look away from him, caught as much by his focused attention as by his hands on me and in me.
The hand on my throat slid up, cupping my chin. Dimitri’s gaze dropped to my lips. He ran his thumb over the lower one, tugging it down, pushing his thumb between my teeth to open my mouth. And then again, rubbing over my lips, rough but not careless, deliberate in the way he showed me he could touch me any way he wanted. His thumb dipped inside again and pressed down on my tongue. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he withdrew his fingers from my hole, letting me down off my tiptoes.
As my heels touched the ground, he took half a step back.
Waiting.
I managed to tear my gaze from his at last, my eyes tracing the rivulets of water running down the column of his throat, between his pecs, along the trail of dark hair over his abdomen.
His cock stood up almost straight between us, glistening with water and with a few pearly-white traces of my come.
