Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(13)

Shane laughed. “Well, I think we’ve found it.”

“You have not done this,” Rozanov said plainly. “With a man.”

“No. Have you?”

Rozanov looked at him, and Shane knew he was deciding whether or not he could trust him, and then must have realized it was too late anyway if he didn’t. He nodded. “In Russia. My coach’s son.”

Shane sputtered. “Holy fuck. You do like trouble! Was he on the team?”

“No. Not a hockey player.”

“Did anyone...find out?”

Rozanov shook his head. “He would never tell. I would never tell. It was safe.”

“Safe,” Shane repeated. It didn’t sound at all safe.

“Just fooling around. Not serious. Was...what is it?”

“Curious?”

Rozanov smiled. “Yes. Curious. And you make me curious.”

“Oh.”

He leaned in and breathed against Shane’s ear in his heavily accented English, “Do I make you curious?”

Rozanov made Shane a lot of things: confused, infuriated, terrified, aroused, and, yes, curious.

“Obviously,” Shane said, a little irritably.

“Did you like sucking my dick?”

“Oh, those English words you know?”

Rozanov licked under Shane’s ear, and Shane gasped.

“Did you like it?” Rozanov asked again.

Shane swallowed his saliva and his pride. “Yes.”

“Would you like me to lie on the bed and let you do it some more?”

“Let me?”

Rozanov chuckled against Shane’s neck. “I’m a nice guy.”

Shane shoved him and Rozanov stumbled back, pants around his knees. He laughed as he tumbled backward onto the bed.

Now that there was some distance between them, Shane could take in the full splendor of Rozanov’s mostly naked body. Rozanov seemed to enjoy the attention, and stretched his muscular arms up over his head, grinning and arching his long torso. He had dark brown hair on his chest and trailing down from his belly button to his bobbing erection, which was still slick with Shane’s spit.

Rozanov sat up and pulled his pants all the way off, along with his shoes and socks. Shane’s eyes fell on the way his stomach muscles flexed as he curled forward, and on his thick, muscular thighs.

Once again, Shane felt very young. Very boyish. He realized that he was still mostly dressed, and he wasn’t sure if he should change that or not.

Rozanov made the decision for him. “This is a bit...not fair.” He moved a hand through the air, back and forth between them.

“You want me to...”

“Da. Yes. Let me see you.”

“You’ve already seen me. In the shower.”

“I want a better look.”

Shane removed his clothes quickly. Being naked in the presence of other guys was not foreign to him, but there was nothing familiar about this scenario. He stood in his underwear for a moment, then tried not to blush as he removed them.

Shane stood with his arms out. Well?

Rozanov grinned and waved a hand over his own chest. “So smooth.”

“Look...”

“Like a swimmer.”

“I don’t...it’s natural, all right?”

“Yes. Come here.” Rozanov patted the bed next to him.

Shane blew out a breath and moved onto the bed. He lay flat on his back next to Rozanov, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you want?” Rozanov asked.

“I don’t know.”

“No?” Rozanov asked, and he leaned over him and kissed him. “Nothing?”

“I...”

“What about...” Rozanov pressed a palm against Shane’s erection and curled gentle fingers around it. “Okay?”

Shane nodded. It was shockingly okay for Ilya Rozanov—a guy, a hockey player, his rival—to have his hand wrapped around Shane’s dick.

“Relax,” Rozanov said, and kissed him again. His hand stroked Shane carefully, without lube, and Shane was spellbound. Rozanov’s soft, accented words and his gentle hands and his confident kisses were all working together to ensnare him.

Dizzy with sensation and lust, Shane lightly pushed on Rozanov’s shoulder until he was flat on his back. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Shane slid down his body and took his cock into his mouth again. He wasn’t any surer of his abilities, but he knew what he wanted. He wanted to get Rozanov off. He wanted to take him apart.

He let his jaw slacken and took Rozanov as deep as he could. He was nervous about biting him by accident, so he kept his mouth open wider than was probably necessary and used a lot of tongue. It was sloppy and very wet, but he could hear the encouraging sounds Rozanov was making. When Shane turned his eyes up, he could see Rozanov had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching him give his first blow job with great interest.

Shane wrapped a hand around the base of Rozanov’s cock and stroked up to meet his mouth. When Rozanov arched and moaned, Shane repeated it, stroking him hard and fast.

“Hollander...fuck.” Rozanov switched to Russian, and Shane didn’t know what he was saying, but he figured he should probably get out of the way because he wasn’t sure he was ready to take a load in his mouth.