Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(25)

Oh.

Shane arched and gasped. “Holy shit!”

Rozanov pulled his mouth off him and smirked. “Good, yes?”

He rubbed his fingertip again over what had to be Shane’s prostate. Shane had kind of nudged it himself before, when he had been alone, but Rozanov seemed to know exactly where it was and what to do with it.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. If he didn’t, he was going to do something embarrassing, like whimper. The combination of Rozanov’s mouth on his cock and his finger inside of him was like nothing he had ever felt before. And there was no way he was going to last long enough for Rozanov to fuck him if this continued.

“You gotta...fuck. Just...wait a minute,” Shane rasped out.

Rozanov stopped immediately. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah...very okay. Too okay.”

“Ah.”

Rozanov used the break time as an opportunity to give his own erection a few lazy strokes. Shane watched him, and noticed again how absurdly large Rozanov’s dick looked.

“We do not have to,” Rozanov said, noticing Shane’s face.

“I want to,” Shane said quickly. Too quickly.

Rozanov nodded, and reached for the lube and the condoms. He got himself ready, and then returned his attention to Shane. Shane felt two fingers press against his opening before they slipped inside. There was less burning this time.

“Stroke yourself,” Rozanov instructed.

Shane nodded and obeyed.

Rozanov let out a low noise that sounded like a growl. “Turn over,” he said.

Shane got on his hands and knees, because that’s how this worked, right? He was pretty sure. He had watched about forty seconds of gay porn, once, before he’d gotten embarrassed and closed his laptop. Now he wished he had endured a little longer, if only for research purposes.

He felt Rozanov’s hands grab his thighs, and he was hauled back until his knees were at the end of the bed. Rozanov put one foot on the mattress, next to Shane’s knee, and placed a hand firmly on Shane’s hip.

And then Shane could feel it; the much-too-large blunt head of Rozanov’s cock bumping against his hole. He clenched his eyes shut, and braced himself for pain.

When Rozanov pressed in, it was slow and careful, but Shane’s whole body trembled anyway. The pain was there, but not as sharp as Shane had been expecting. The pressure was the most overwhelming sensation. He felt impossibly full, and couldn’t imagine how Rozanov was supposed to move once he was all the way in. Shane was struck with the sudden, horrific thought that Rozanov would become stuck inside him. Oh Jesus, they would have to call 911 or something!

Shane forced himself to take a breath and pushed images of doctors trying to separate them while all of Rozanov’s teammates watched out of his mind.

“Okay?” Rozanov asked again. He ran a hand over Shane’s back, slow and soothing.

“Yeah,” Shane said. His voice sounded strained.

Rozanov pulled out a little then pushed back in, even deeper this time.

“Fuck,” Shane gasped. “Wow.”

Encouraged, Rozanov repeated the motion. And again.

Then Rozanov adjusted his hips a little and, on the next thrust, hit Shane’s prostate, sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

“God. Yes! Fuck. Keep doing that.”

“I will. Don’t fucking worry.”

Shane wasn’t feeling any pain now, and he wasn’t scared. He started to push back against Rozanov when he thrust into him, which Rozanov seemed to take as an invitation to go harder. His thrusts became faster, causing the bed to shake and Shane’s arms to tremble as he struggled to hold himself up. It was more than Shane had thought he’d be able to take, but he wanted it. He loved it.

Rozanov’s fingers were digging hard enough into Shane’s hips to leave marks. He was hauling Shane back against him as he pounded into him. Shane lifted a hand up to his own mouth so he could bite his knuckles to keep from screaming out.

This, he realized, was why people were so wild about sex. He had never, ever felt like this with anyone before. And of course Ilya Rozanov, all of nineteen years old, fucked with the confidence and skill of, like, a sex god.

Shane chanced taking his hand out of his mouth so he could wrap it around his dick. He wished he had put a towel down or something—he was going to come all over this hotel bedding. He knew he was going to feel bad about that, but not enough to do anything about it now.

“Yeah. Come on, Hollander,” Rozanov growled. Rozanov, who did not care at all about the poor hotel maids.

“Fuck,” Shane gritted out. And he came so hard that most of it shot up and hit him in the chest. He was so dazed by his own orgasm that he almost didn’t register when Rozanov tensed and stilled behind him. Rozanov grunted and came inside of Shane’s body. Into a condom, but still. Shane’s body had made that happen, and he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around that fact.

Then, to Shane’s dismay, Rozanov collapsed on top of him, crushing Shane and the mess all over his chest into the mostly clean bedding.

“Now the bed’s all dirty,” Shane complained before he could stop himself.

“What?” Rozanov said sleepily. “Shut up.”

Shane closed his eyes and enjoyed the weight of Rozanov on top of him.

Eventually, Rozanov rolled off and went to the bathroom to clean up. Shane shifted carefully to his back, already feeling the pain that was going to make it hard to sit down tomorrow.