by Quin Perin
“Have you ever danced Kizomba?” I asked over the music, keeping him close. Dima nodded. From the corner of my eye, I could see a few couples getting into the new rhythm; the men’s hands inching lower.
When I closed the space between us, the air felt heady, electric. Heaven help me. Carefully, I placed both of his hands on the side of my neck. “That okay?” I breathed into his ear. He nodded, his breath hot on my collarbone. Dima leaned his forehead against my shoulder. His proximity sent sparks through my body, igniting a fire in my belly. I sucked in a short breath while my right hand slid across his upper back, holding him against me without moving it lower. It took all of my self-control not to straight up grope him. Give in to my primal urges.
I didn’t want to give the wrong impression.
A guy shot me a glance, probably wondering what the hell I was doing. Dancing Kizomba with another man wasn’t common. Salsa, sometimes, Bachata, under certain circumstances, but not Kizomba. It was way too sensual if done right. I chose to ignore him and shifted my attention back to Dima.
Our steps were wave-like, not moving much from side to side but instead owning a small radius that gave us enough space to move around. Eyes closed, I caressed my free, left hand up his arm, up to his wrist resting against my neck.
“What’s this song called?” Dima asked, angling his head back, probably so I could hear him better.
“Kiz and Soul,” I answered with a laugh. My cheeks burned, and my pulse raced at how well our bodies fit together. Despite me being taller, Dima’s form easily locked into mine.
“Original.” He snorted.
I moved us around, and to my surprise, Dima followed me effortlessly, as if he’d done this all his life. I assumed he had danced more often than he wanted to admit.
With his arms around my neck, his body heat against mine, lust soon flooded my veins, flicking off brain cells one by one. Sure enough, my cock had taken an interest in the matter, pulsing and thickening every time our bodies rolled together. It was he and I, gliding against one another. I held him and walked us back to the beat of the music, numbing my senses and willing my erection to stand the fuck down. But it didn’t work. With his scent lingering around me, I got harder. Fuck. This was way too soon. I didn’t want to scare him off.
While I was caught up in my brain versus cock chaos, Dima stilled against me and rolled his hips into mine. It was common in Kizomba, but that simple freaking move? It stripped me bare. He’d ground himself right against my hard-on; there was no doubt about it. As if he’d felt it before and wanted more. I drew back, desperate for distance, for a breeze of cool air. Or an ice-cold shower.
I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t come on to him like this. I wanted to get to know him first. There was a connection I couldn’t ignore, and I didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. Although, God, all I wanted was to take him back to his apartment, slam him against the closed door, rip his clothes off, and make his beautiful lips sing for me.
Shaking my head, I loosened his arms from me and took his hand. Dima looked utterly confused, lips pink and slightly pursed, a frown on his face. I wanted to sink to my knees for him, worship his beautiful body, touch every inch of his skin. Make him feel desired, the way he deserved to be desired.
The song was almost over when I maneuvered us through the swaying couples, my fingers interlacing with his. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was gonna burst into flames. Jesus. My mind raced with images of Dima before me. Naked, crawling on a bed covered with white sheets, his skin so pale, his hair so dark. The way he hummed and lured me closer. One dance with Dima had turned me into a lust-fueled mess, struggling for control. God only knew what would happen once we were behind closed doors.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d sworn to myself I would take this slow, but when I moved him against the bar and stepped in front of him to keep someone else from bumping into his side, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I caged him in, between me and the counter. Dima’s lips tugged into a sly smirk. Fucker. He knew what he did to me. He’d felt it. Thunder roared through my chest, my heart trying to beat me into submission. But I still had a few good brain cells left, so I didn’t cave. Not yet.
Dima carefully placed his right elbow on the bar behind him, presenting himself like he knew I was examining his neck, the curve of his collarbone, the way his tongue slid across his bottom lip. Christ, I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Do you like what you see?” Dima asked coyly. I wanted to scoff, tell him not to be ridiculous if it wasn’t so goddamn true.
“Maybe,” I rasped, my voice coming out much deeper than intended. I tried to clear my throat, but it didn’t feel like it would help. The music was suddenly far, far away, and we were in a secluded little bubble. Just us. Tiny jolts of electricity zipped between our bodies.
Dima clucked his tongue, and before I could think about where his other hand was, I could feel it. Holy mother of G—
I half laughed, half moaned when his thumb rolled over the ridge of my cock. My fingers balled into fists on top of the bar, forearms tensing. Christ. This man.
“I am pretty sure you do like what you see unless you were looking at other...women? Men? What tickles your fancy, mh?”
This time, I scoffed and batted his hand, snatching it. “You’re awfully sure of yourself,” I said with my lips so close to his. One inch. If I leaned in a tiny bit closer, I could claim his pretty mouth and own it.
“So I’ve been told,” Dima breathed, his tongue brushing across his upper lip.
Kill. Me. Now.
Dima
Tony’s breath was warm against my lips, his arms trapping me against the bar. Or rather, I let him think he’d trapped me when really he was the fly twisted in my web. From the way he spoke, the way his voice hitched in his throat, I could tell he had absolutely no idea what he was in for. With all the research he’d done on me, he probably thought he was prepared for a date. But Jan couldn’t tell him all those dirty little details. Couldn’t give him the information he really needed. Now he was trapped with me. And he was going to have to deal with that all on his own.
I’d never been shy, and I certainly wasn’t about to start now. Tony’s erection begged for my attention, radiating heat against me. I’d felt it. Felt how big it was. How thick it seemed. And I wanted it all the more. Right now. Right here. In front of everyone. Maybe. I didn’t know if anyone was looking or how obvious feeling him up would be, but I didn’t particularly care. Shameless, remember?
Tony sighed, our lips brushing together like the faintest whisper of silk against skin. It almost felt like he was giving up. That was no fun. His fingers were still tight around my wrist, preventing me from grabbing him again.
At least with that hand. Luckily I had two.
I pressed my elbow against the bar, forcing myself closer to Tony. Sealing our bodies together like on the dancefloor. I wondered if he felt my erection. It was better hidden, not nearly as hefty as what hid in his pants, compressed by my tight jeans and covered by my long shirt. It was there though. Straining and pulsing with the beat of my heart. Well, if he hadn’t felt it, I would make sure he did.
Rolling our hips together again, I turned my eyes up in his general direction. “You know.” I hummed, lifting the hand he had a grip on toward his shoulder. My other slid between us, under his shirt, and right along the edge of his pants. Coarse hair tickled my fingers while I resisted the urge to drool like some predator. “I’m a way better dancer at home than I am here.”
He laughed, a breathy quality to it. When I turned my head to graze my lips along his cheek—I might have hit his nose first—the skin felt warm. Flushed.
“I don’t know. You might be too good for me,” he responded in a whisper.
“Why don’t you come and find out?” I offered. It was what we both wanted. I’d had my drink. We’d had our dances. Other than another drink, there wasn’t anything else we needed to do before retiring for the evening. He hadn’t wasted his money. I’d
gotten to do something I hadn’t in a while. All in all, a good time. “I could...give you a private show.”
His forehead rested against mine as I hooked my fingers into his pants, tugging at them.
“We-We can leave.” He swallowed hard, loud enough I heard it. I smirked.
Easy.
Besides, the cold air would be good for him. If his cock looked as visible as it felt, he wouldn’t be able to hide it. “You gonna let me go?” I wiggled my fingers, flexing against his hand.
“Mm. Nah.”
Tightening his grasp, he hauled me away from the bar. My heart twinged, and for a moment I worried he was going to drag me through the crowd like that. I liked being manhandled, and in my apartment or somewhere empty, I wouldn’t mind being hauled around like nothing. I liked being reminded of my partner’s strength. It made me feel protected. But out in public and with so many people around, throbbing masses that could swallow me whole, I needed a little more control than that.
Luckily Tony pulled me out in front of him and left it at that. He dropped my wrist, placed his hand on my shoulder, and guided me through the crowd. He stayed close as we picked our way gingerly through the throng of people. Occasionally, I felt his cock prodding at my lower back, and after a few steps like this, I laughed when I realized what he was doing. “Are you using me to hide your dick?”
Tony’s voice held a grin. “Well, I don’t have a stack of books on hand, so yeah.”
I was honored and a little excited. He was well endowed, and he had a bit of modesty. That I didn’t understand. If I were hung like him, I would have been flaunting the bulge in my pants as if it was made of gold. “I could have taken care of that,” I purred.
“At the bar? That’s definitely not happening.” Tony snorted.
“No. In the bathroom. Duh.”
His laughter vibrated through him, and I smiled. “That’s not happening either.”
“No fun.”
He stayed behind me when we arrived at the coat check, his arm slipping around my waist. His fingers spread across my stomach as we waited for our jackets. He might not have been willing for me to go and suck him off in the bathroom, but he didn’t seem to have a problem grinding his cock against me while we waited at the counter.
Like the gentleman he tried so hard to be, he helped me slip my sweater back on before taking care of his own. And then we were out in the cold.
Tony should give thanks to the uneven cobblestones that he made it to my apartment unscathed and without my needy hands all over him. I wanted to grab at him. Wanted to grope and feel. Continue what I’d started in the bar. Continue what he was trying to deny. I wasn’t opposed to some PDA, but I didn’t particularly want to fall on my face in search of his hard-on.
He wasn’t as lucky when we got to my apartment.
I tasted the polite goodbye in the air before he voiced it, but I didn’t give him a chance to get it out. The street was quiet. No cars. No footsteps. Not even murmurs from the bottom rooms. Private enough. I fisted my hands in his shirt and pressed him against the front door. He thudded against it in surprise. An oomph of air escaped from his lungs. Strong hands moved around my waist, fingers pressing into my lower back. As big as he was, he probably wasn’t used to being the one manhandled. “Dima, wha—”
My kiss cut him off, tongue forcing between his lips. One of my hands tangled in his beard, using it to keep his lips on mine. Help me find my way. I wanted to climb him like a fucking jungle gym. Our hips rutted together, my erection full of life once more. He wasn’t going to get the chance to be proper and polite.
He didn’t seem to mind. One hand slid down, and he grabbed my ass firmly, nearly lifting me off of my feet as he deepened the kiss. Our tongues twisted, and then he bit down on the tip of mine. Lightly but enough to make me moan. I yanked at his shirt, exposing a sliver of flesh for my nails to dig into, scratch along. My blood boiled.
A groan rolled deep in him, causing my heart to trip out of rhythm. I sliced my nails up his chest, dragging across his pecs, only to get caught up on a piercing. Jesus. Fuck, I wanted to see that. But I couldn’t do that, so I had to settle for the next best thing. I pinched and pulled, and his hips jerked into mine, nearly toppling me over.
“Take me upstairs,” I breathed.
Tony
Christ. Dima was so much more than I’d expected. He was like a siren with the most seductive song, twirling me around his slender fingers and beckoning me closer. I was an inch away from losing control, from dragging him upstairs and stripping him bare. He couldn’t see me, but I sure as hell could see him. His fingers twisted in my shirt, pinching one of my nipples in the process while his other hand tugged at my beard. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t moan again, desperately trying to reinstate the connection to my brain.
But there was nothing.
Silence.
Beep.
Dima moved his hand from my beard to scratch his nails across the side of my neck, making me shudder. I watched him intently while he trailed his fingers up to my jaw, the tips tracing along my bottom lip.
“Don’t be shy,” he teased with a smirk. His tone soft, wanting to tame me. My pulse throbbed in my ears, strong and heavy. Soon enough, I’d see red and rip his clothes to pieces. I’d never met someone so sexy, sultry, and confident. He sure knew what he was doing. I kissed his fingertips, stifling a groan when he ground his crotch back against mine. It’d been a while.
Out of nowhere, our mouths collided once more, but this time, I slung my arm below his armpits and hoisted him up. Dima yelped and laughed against me. He weighed absolutely nothing. I felt like a savage carrying my prey back into the cave. Fair enough. I didn’t care. I pushed past the front door—thank fuck someone hadn’t locked it—pressed the button to turn the light on, and followed his instructions. Up the stairs, second door on the left. Dima kept kissing my ear, his fingers tugging on my jacket to secure himself. But I had him. When his feet almost grazed the stairs, I pulled him up higher, arm clutched around his lower back, his chest on my shoulder.
“Jesus,” Dima panted, but I heard him smile. It took about a minute until I set him back down in front of his door. Dima slipped out his keys with me sealed against his back, hands on either side of the door frame. Damn, he smelled so good. Before he could unlock the door, I slid my arm around his chest and hauled him back against me. My lips latched on to the top of his ear, biting and licking. Dima moaned. It was the best fucking sound.
The lights went off around us. The hallway was quiet except for our soft moans and gasps bouncing off the walls. Dima pulled himself free with surprising expertise and unlocked the door faster than I expected. His fingers caught hold of the hem of my shirt, dragging me into the darkness of his apartment. I couldn’t see much, but I could make out a large couch, black and plush, and in front of it, a low coffee table. There was a table next to us, bowl in the center of it. Not much furniture. Everything stark.
The door thumped closed, but this time, I was the one to pin him against it. It was just us now, in the darkness. “You’re quite wild, aren’t you?” I rasped against his lips, his wrists twisting in my grasp. God, I wanted to devour him right there. But I also didn’t want to scare him. I could go a bit overboard when I was turned on like this. And so, to let him control the situation, I dropped to my knees.
Dima’s fingers followed, key still in his hand. I gripped the tails of his long shirt and draped it up across his stomach. Dima held his breath as the tip of my tongue tasted the skin below his navel. He tasted as good as he smelled. I couldn’t wait to peel off his underwear and slide his cock into my mouth. That thought alone made a bead of precum seep into my briefs.
My hands latched on to his ass, rocking him toward me and off the door. Dima swayed above me, his hands gripping fistfuls of my hair.
“Ah, shit!” I hissed as his keys scraped across my scalp. I pulled back and tried to take the keys from him, but he didn’t let me.
“Fuck, I’m sorry
. I—” Dima fumbled with his keys, still not giving them up. Since my eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness around us, I gazed up at him. Frustration was painted across his pretty features. As he pushed up to stand, his hands gripped my shirt. “No, don’t stop. I have to...”
“What is it?”
“I have to put my keys in their spot, or I’ll never find them again.” Oh. Oh.
The moment was over. I was still hard as a rock, but the fog around us dimmed, allowing me to think clearly. Dima felt the energy shift between us too because he sighed loudly.
“I should go,” I said and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“No, don’t go.” Dima paused, then added, “Don’t you dare leave like this.”
I would have chuckled at how bossy he was, but the seriousness in his voice kept me from it.
“Dima,” I whispered, stroking his cheek while the tension in my body smoldered. I could so easily lose myself in him. “I shouldn’t have come up yet. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“No.”
Now that made me smile. Dima was pouting, head turned away from me. I was still so close, ready to embrace him, but before I could, he hit the balls of his palms against my chest and shoved me away.
“If you wanna leave now, then there is no point in calling.”
THIRTEEN
Dima
“Zoe, he’s an asshole.”
My phone was on speaker and rested on the kitchen counter, near my talking timer, as I carefully dolloped my cookie batter onto the tray. It was a bit of work and required my fingers getting very sticky as I felt my way along the metal to make sure the mounds were spaced properly apart. Sometimes I liked to get an early start on my baking when I had nothing else to do. Jan let me take the stuff from the café to use. My wrapping wasn’t as pretty as Zoe’s, but I managed well enough.