If The Seas Catch Fire(46)

“After this,” Sergei went on, “you’re going to meet me at a motel. You’re going to text me with an address and room number, just like always, and then you’re going to wait—naked, lubed up and ready for me. And I’m going to f*ck you right.”

Dom shuddered. “Please…”

Sergei raised his head. Dom’s eyes were wide, wet as if he was about to break down in tears, and his lips were apart as he struggled to catch his breath. Tightening his grip on Dom’s cock, he said, “When I’m done, I’m going to f*ck you again, and I’m going to make it f*cking hurt.”

And just like that, Dom lost it.

His eyes rolled back. He held onto Sergei’s shoulders for dear life, and f*cked against him, shooting hot semen all over Sergei’s hand and arm and stomach as his lips formed soundless, breathless curses.

Still shaking, he looked up at Sergei. “Promise?”

“Yeah. Promise.”





Chapter 14


The orgasm he’d had in the club kept Dom semi-sane, but he needed more.

Waiting for Sergei was going to drive him out of his mind. He’d already taken two showers—one before the club, and one after he’d checked into the motel room because maybe this time it would get hot enough to rinse away the gunpowder residue on his hands. By the time he’d finished showering—nope, not hot enough—he didn’t have much time. Sergei would be here any minute.

Sergei had ordered him to wait naked, so he didn’t bother getting dressed after he’d dried off. And that wasn’t the only thing Sergei had demanded.

Dom poured some lube on his fingers, and then lay back on the bed with his legs apart. Eyes closed, he reached down and pressed one fingertip against his ass.

As his hole started to relax, and his finger slid inside, his thoughts disintegrated. The rest of the night ceased to exist except for that little preview in the booth at the club. The guilt, the shame—it was gone. Temporarily maybe, but he’d take what he could get, and he pushed a second finger inside just so the stretch and the burn would erase even more of his mind.

Oh, it did. And it felt amazing. It was also deliciously rebellious. Ever since he’d almost gotten caught with a man years ago, he’d been so paranoid, he was sure if he finger-f*cked himself or used a toy or anything, someone would catch on. The potential for embarrassment was one thing. Knowing all too well what could happen to him if someone suspected he was gay? That was more than enough to keep him from touching himself this way.

He’d jerk off—what man didn’t?—but this? He hadn’t dared. And now he was. And as he pushed his fingers inside himself, his toes curled and he was getting unbearably hard.

What if he got caught this time?

Oh hell. He was going to get caught. Sergei was going to walk through that door, and he was going to find Dom like this—legs spread, two fingers inside himself, dick hard and breath gone.

God, yes. He wanted Sergei to see him this way. And he wanted him to make good on his promise to f*ck him, and then f*ck him again until it hurt.

No shame. No holds barred. No consequences because no one would catch them. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d truly needed this arrangement until tonight. With Sergei, he could be the man he was forbidden to be—a gay man who wanted to feel another man. Just a night of sex. Raw, primal sex. No lies, no gunfire, no filling a role he’d never wanted to fill.

Footsteps outside raised goose bumps on Dom’s arms. The click of the door made his breath catch.

And there he was—Sergei.

He took one look at Dom, and grinned. Closing the door behind him, he said, “Now that’s something I could watch all night.”

“D-don’t watch.” Dom slipped his fingers free. “You said you’d—”

“Oh, I know what I said.” Sergei took off his shirt. He shifted to one side, then the other. Probably toeing off his shoes. “Did I say you should stop?”

Dom blinked.

“Well?”

Dom started f*cking himself with his fingers again. Jesus—it was the exact same thing he’d been doing before, but somehow, doing it in front of Sergei made it a million times more intense. Maybe because Sergei was stripping off his tight jeans now, revealing the thick cock that Dom had been craving. He was quickly getting hard, and after he’d taken off his briefs, Sergei stroked himself slowly, bringing his cock to full attention.

Dom’s mouth watered. “Please…”

Sergei grinned. “You’re such a gentleman.” He climbed onto the bed. “Always asking so nicely.”

Dom bit his lip.

Sergei gently nudged his hand out of the way, and then he came down on top of Dom, his thick cock against Dom’s and his narrow waist between Dom’s thighs.

And he kissed him.

God.

In.

Heaven.

Dom thought he was going to lose his mind. Sergei was, as always, aggressive, but not overly so, and the taste of his kiss intoxicated Dom. His hair was damp and he didn’t smell like the mix of sweat, cologne, and booze that stuck to everything in that club, so he must’ve showered. Dom didn’t care—as long as he had Sergei in bed with him, he didn’t care about anything else.

Sergei pushed himself up on his arms, and then moved to his feet in a motion that was way too graceful and coordinated for a man with a hard-on. He beckoned to Dom. “Stand up.”