Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(12)

But his dick didn’t seem to think so, especially not when Rozanov wedged a knee between his legs and rubbed a thigh against Shane’s arousal. Shane whimpered and Rozanov tipped his head back farther, using his height and coming down hard on Shane’s open mouth.

Shane wasn’t sure what to do. He hesitantly slid his palms up Rozanov’s chest. He heard Rozanov give a soft moan when Shane’s fingers moved over his nipples, and that one little sound made Shane lose any remaining self-control.

He kissed Rozanov back, hard and frantic and wanting more but not knowing exactly what to ask for. Rozanov crowded him back against a wall and started unbuttoning Shane’s shirt. When he got the last button open, he grabbed Shane’s hand and pressed it against his crotch. And, oh, Shane had his hand on Ilya Rozanov’s dick. Shane could feel the solid length straining against Rozanov’s jeans, and he felt his own cock grow harder even as he struggled against freaking out.

He gripped Rozanov through the denim, and one clear idea of what he wanted popped into his head. He wanted the denim barrier to be gone. He wanted to see Rozanov’s cock and hold it and feel it pressed against him, which was weird. He shouldn’t want that. He shouldn’t want any of this.

And yet...

With a goal in mind, Shane unfastened Rozanov’s fly and worked his hand inside. When Shane had his hand wrapped around the thick, smooth length, Rozanov inhaled sharply and stopped kissing him. Both men looked down to watch Shane’s hand move under the cotton of Rozanov’s briefs. Shane could see the tip of Rozanov’s cock poking out of the waistband, and he had the sudden, wild urge to kiss it. To press his tongue to the slit and taste him.

Fuck. This was really gay.

Rozanov didn’t seem troubled, though. Instead, he was pulling his own shirt off and reaching to cradle Shane’s face with his hand. Shane turned his eyes up and Rozanov was looking down at him with dark eyes, his mouth slack and lips swollen. His face was pure desire.

Shane stood, frozen, as Rozanov dragged his thumb over Shane’s lips and then gently pushed it inside. Shane closed his eyes and sucked it into his mouth, letting his tongue wrap around it. He was shocked at how naturally he did this; by how much he loved the sensation. He felt Rozanov shudder, and Shane felt light-headed. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay standing. He wondered if Rozanov would let him...if he wanted him to...

Shane released Rozanov’s thumb and slowly sank to his knees.

“Fuck,” he heard Rozanov breathe. Shane knew there would be no going back from this, but they’d probably already crossed that line anyway; may as well take what he wanted. With shaking hands, he pulled Rozanov’s jeans and briefs down and lined up his mouth with his thick, rigid cock. He took a breath and, very carefully, pressed his tongue to the head.

“Yes, Hollander...” Rozanov hissed.

It tasted like...skin. Shane slowly moved his tongue around the head, completely unsure of what to do. He liked to be excellent at everything. His only experience with this sort of thing had been at the receiving end, so he tried to mimic what some of those girls had done. He took Rozanov deeper into his mouth, and it felt so weird. He just sort of stayed like that for a moment, his tongue flattened by the weight of Rozanov’s cock. He knew he must look ridiculous.

Rozanov’s expression didn’t suggest that he was watching something ridiculous. He held Shane’s face with one big hand and gazed down at him with hooded eyes. He murmured something in Russian and then said, “Look at you.”

Shane’s face flushed. An image flashed through his mind of their roles being reversed. What would Rozanov look like on his knees, taking Shane in his mouth? Would Shane ever find out?

Shane moaned involuntarily, which made Rozanov shudder. His thumb brushed Shane’s cheekbone, and Shane closed his eyes and began to move his mouth. He sucked and licked, letting himself get used to the sensation of having a dick in his mouth. His mind was racing, worrying about technique and about what exactly this all meant. But then Rozanov’s fingers were tangled in Shane’s hair, and Shane was reminded that this was fucking hot. That he’d fantasized about exactly this, alone in his bedroom, even if he had been embarrassed afterward.

He sighed around Rozanov’s cock and bobbed his head slightly, losing himself in the slide of rigid flesh against his tongue. He was sure he was doing a terrible job, and his fears were confirmed when Rozanov suddenly yelped, “Stop! Stop. Stop.”

Shane pulled off quickly and stared up at Rozanov, who was grimacing with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Sorry,” Shane said. “I’m not... I’ve never...”

Rozanov laughed. “Is okay. Was...” He waved a hand around, as if trying to physically grab the English word he was looking for. “It was...too much.”

“Oh.” Really? Shane felt that he had barely done anything.

“Just...ah...very, um...”

Overwhelming? Intense? Wrong? Shane could think of a few words, but he didn’t want to guess at what Rozanov was feeling.

“A lot,” Rozanov finished. Then he made a frustrated sound. “No. I cannot think of word.”

Shane rose off his knees because he felt foolish staying on them if he wasn’t going to be doing anything down there. When he was standing, he looked curiously at Rozanov. “Have you been...thinking about this?”

Rozanov gave a crooked grin and shrugged. “I like trouble.”