The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(111)

Ilya palmed one muscular cheek appreciatively with his free hand. “Is this for me?”

“I swear to god, Rozanov...”

Ilya chuckled, then got to work. It only took a few minutes before Shane was loose and ready for him, but Ilya dragged it out anyway. He stroked Shane’s prostate and enjoyed the moans it shook out of him. He loved the way Shane was already rocking back against him, so eager.

Ilya reached around and turned on the vibrator, then went back to working Shane’s prostate.

“Fuck,” Shane panted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Problem?”

Shane’s back rose and fell in angry waves. “It’s just,” he gritted out, “a lot.”

Ilya hummed sympathetically and added a third finger.

“Something you want to ask for?” he asked when he noticed the tremors in Shane’s arms and legs.

“Fuck...fuck me.”

“With what?” Ilya kneaded Shane’s ass with one hand as he slid his fingers in as far as he could, then pulled them out completely.

This seemed to make Shane lose what was left of his patience. “Your stupid dick.”

Ilya laughed, then quickly got himself undressed. He stood directly behind Shane, where it would be hard for Shane to see him without straining his neck. He bit back the moan of relief he wanted to let out when he finally freed his aching cock.

He lubed himself up while Shane took slow breaths and clenched his fingers against the leather chair arms. When Ilya brushed the head of his cock against Shane’s hole, Shane raised his ass up in encouragement. They both let out loud moans of relief when Ilya began to slowly sink inside.

“Fuck yes,” Shane panted. “Finally.”

Shane was so tight, so perfect and hot, and the vibrations from the ring that was rumbling behind Shane’s balls felt incredible on Ilya’s cock. Ilya had to pause a moment, once he was fully inside, just to breathe and settle himself.

“Come on,” Shane complained.

Ilya chuckled and carefully began to move. “Such a slut for it,” he said after a couple of slow thrusts. “Is it me that made you so horny, or is it the room?”

“What,” Shane gritted out, “are you talking about?”

“Are you all turned on thinking about all of your...” He adjusted his angle and gave Shane two quick, hard thrusts. “Many. Accomplishments.”

“It’s you. It’s only you,” Shane gasped.

Ilya loved it when Shane got like this, when he was flying too high to be annoyed or embarrassed. “Do you want to know a secret?” He bent over Shane so he could speak directly in his ear. “I feel like I am fucking a king right now.”

“Ilya—”

He grabbed a handful of Shane’s hair and tugged his head back. “Do you know how powerful this feels, fucking a king in his throne room?”

“Fu—fucking hell, Rozanov.”

Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s chest and hauled him up, as easily as if Shane were a doll and not a two-hundred-pound man. He held him close, Shane’s back pressed against Ilya’s chest, as Ilya pounded into him.

“You are Shane fucking Hollander,” Ilya growled. “If you ever forget that, I will drag you back in here and fuck you until you remember.”

“We—we’ll share a trophy room someday,” Shane stammered.

Ilya smiled. “Yes. A fucking empire.”

Shane tilted his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “A dynasty,” he breathed. “Oh, fuck, Ilya. I love you.”

Ilya growled, and impulsively sank his teeth into Shane’s shoulder. Shane cried out, then clenched around Ilya’s cock as his orgasm rocked through him. His come splattered the chair, which Ilya knew would bother Shane as soon as he came down from his high.

Ilya didn’t give a shit about the chair. He jackhammered into Shane, never wanting to stop. He swore in Russian, told Shane he was perfect in Russian, then came hard inside him.

Finally, he fell forward, resting his forehead on Shane’s back as they both got their breathing under control. He realized that Shane must have turned off the vibrator while Ilya had been out of his mind.

“Holy shit,” Ilya finally wheezed.

“That got weird,” Shane said.

Ilya laughed, which made Shane laugh. Ilya kissed him between his shoulder blades, then carefully pulled out.

“I think I ruined the chair,” Shane said, sooner even than Ilya had expected.

“It is another trophy now,” Ilya said.

“Gross.”

“There is a towel here,” Ilya offered.

“Nah. I have some leather wipes I can use.”

Ilya smiled. “Of course you do.”



Chapter Thirty-Five


“There are few things in life that I absolutely can’t stand,” Roger Crowell said. His voice was deceptively calm, and Ilya didn’t miss the danger in it. “One thing I hate is surprises. Another is disloyalty. And another is liars.”

And homosexuals, Ilya added in his head.

“But the thing I hate most,” Crowell continued, “is being embarrassed. And I especially hate it when the league is embarrassed.”

“That does sound bad,” Ilya said mildly.

Crowell shot him a warning look, and when Ilya turned to Shane, he saw a similar expression on his face.