If The Seas Catch Fire(33)

Sergei froze. That wasn’t a kiss that belonged… here. In a room like this. In an encounter like this.

Dom drew back a little. “Something wrong? You—”

Sergei grabbed him and pulled him back into a kiss, and Dom held him closer. Sergei pushed Dom’s lips apart with his tongue, and Dom’s fingers twitched against Sergei’s skin as the kiss deepened.

By now, they should have been in bed, making out and groping until one of them finally came up for air long enough to put on a condom. But they didn’t move. They stood in the middle of the room, skin to skin, arms around each other and kissing like… like…

Like this. It was as if no one had ever given Dom the memo about the difference between f*cking and making love. About how to kiss a one night stand versus how to kiss a boyfriend.

Sergei wasn’t going to give him that memo, though. If it had been a long time since Dom had been with a man, it had been even longer since anyone had kissed Sergei like this.

He led Dom toward the bed. When they got there, before Sergei could pull away and suggest they move from vertical to horizontal, Dom cradled the back of his head in one hand, wrapped the other arm around his waist, and lowered him onto the mattress. Sergei’s pulse went crazy—as much as he liked to get down to business and get rough, he had a weakness for a man with a soft touch. A man who could be in bed with someone he may very well have viewed as a prostitute, and still hold onto him like he would have with someone he actually cared about.

Sergei hated larger men on top—it tripped every survival instinct he had. He didn’t like being pinned or cornered, and the laws of physics gave a bigger guy an advantage. But Dom’s body felt good on top of his. Being underneath a made man was dangerous, but there was something oddly… safe about him. Non-threatening, anyway, which was weird for a career criminal who was so much bigger and likely stronger than Sergei. The lion getting cuddly with the lamb—he didn’t need to know that the lamb was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

This was wrong. All wrong. Dom was one of them. He shouldn’t have… he…

He was kissing Sergei’s neck, soft lips and coarse stubble skating across flesh, and Sergei couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head back to expose more. It didn’t make any sense, baring his throat to a man like Dom, but those featherlight kisses were addictive.

Dom kissed him all over—down his throat, his chest, his abs. Every touch seemed genuinely appreciative, too. He’d press a soft kiss to Sergei’s skin, wait for a response—a hitch in his breath or a quiver of muscle—and then he’d move down a little and nip gently or flick his tongue, and again wait for a response.

He continued down, down, down, and Sergei couldn’t breathe as Dom kissed his way along the ridge of his hipbone. Warm breath. Soft kisses. Rough stubble. All inching toward Sergei’s hard-on.

Oh yes. Please. Do it.

Yes.

Like that. Holy shit. Holy…

Sergei stared up at the ceiling with watering eyes. He couldn’t remember the last man who’d been so into giving head. Dom groaned with pleasure, his breath hot on Sergei’s skin and his voice vibrating against sensitive nerve endings.

Sergei combed his fingers through Dom’s hair. This was not what he’d expected tonight. Not even a little bit. It was dangerous, too, but it didn’t feel dangerous. It was sexy and amazing, and nothing else mattered.

Dom stopped abruptly and pushed himself up. “If I keep doing that,” he panted, “I’ll come too soon.”

“You’ll come?” Sergei reached for Dom and pulled him down on top of him. “You’re not the one who was getting his dick sucked.”

“I think you underestimate how long it’s been since I’ve done this.” Dom kissed him deeply, tenderly, hungrily. “Just being here with you turns me on. I can’t… I can’t even describe…”

“Then don’t.” Sergei pulled Dom all the way down, and let himself get completely lost in Dom’s kiss. This may have been completely physical sex with no investment whatsoever, and maybe he was just a sex worker to Dom, but God, Sergei liked the way this man felt against him and on top of him. And though Dom wasn’t a virgin, he may as well have been, and in an innocent, endearing kind of way that Sergei liked.

Dom broke the kiss and started on Sergei’s neck again. “The whole time you were dancing,” he whispered against Sergei’s skin, “all I could think was how good you were with your hips.” He kissed beneath his ear, making Sergei shiver. “Tell me you f*ck as good as you dance.”

Oh. God.

“Only one way to find out.” Why am I shaking?

“I’ll get a condom.”

Sergei let him go, and Dom got up long enough to retrieve the condoms and lube from the table. Dom tore open the box of condoms, but their eyes met, and his hands stopped.

Sergei reached for him, grabbed his neck, pulled him in, kissed him. God, he wanted to f*ck Dom, but he had to kiss him again, and Dom didn’t protest at all. The gentleness was gone now. They kissed hard, taking sharp breaths through their noses and gripping each other’s shoulders, arms, necks—whatever they could get their hands on.

Sergei couldn’t take anymore. “Turn around,” he breathed.

He fully expected Dom to put up a fight, insisting he’d be on top, but instead, he damn near tore himself out of Sergei’s grasp and turned around. Sergei’s heart sped up as Dom leaned forward onto his hands.