by H L Day
I gave the question some thought. Despite the fact that niggling him would definitely appear in my top five list of fun things to do and it was a really bad idea for him to stay, I didn't want to push him to the point where he actually left. Therefore, I needed to find the right balance between the two. "I think I am a man who picked up the phone and offered an invitation."
Max raked his hand through his hair, leaving it looking delightfully rumpled. It reminded me of the way he'd looked on the first day I'd met him. "An invitation? It didn't sound like an invitation to me. It sounded more like a demand."
I waved a hand lazily down the length of his body. "Yet here you are. And I'm so flattered that you chose me over alcohol."
His nostrils flared. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You have a drinking problem... or you're on your way to having one. I haven't quite decided which yet." The words weren't designed to provoke. I was stating a fact. During the last two weeks, he'd turned up to work looking like crap and smelling of booze more often than he hadn't. The only reason nobody had complained was that it didn't seem to stop him from doing his job. Apart from the error with my music on the first day, he hadn't put a foot wrong.
He let out a humorless laugh. "You're unbelievable! Do you know that?"
I chose to deliberately misunderstand him. "Thank you." I gestured to the empty chair arranged diagonally to mine. "Have a seat."
His eyes dropped to my thigh again. "I'm not staying. I just came to tell you what you could do with your demand."
I shifted so that the robe fell open a few more inches, the belt barely holding it closed. "You came all this way to tell me to otva li."
His jaw tensed. "What does that mean? You know I don't speak Russian."
I smiled. "It means fuck off, whereas to fuck would be ebat. I would rather we ebat'sya than you otva li."
He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze dropping to his feet. He studied them as if he'd spotted something fascinating. "Is it a power thing? Is that it?"
His head slowly lifted, the blue eyes finding mine again. I was momentarily shaken by the intensity in them. It must have been for that reason that the truth spilled unwittingly from my lips. "I have no power!"
He snorted and glanced toward the door. I was losing him. He was already planning his escape. Perhaps he was right, and I was trying to exert the only power I could in a world where I had none, using my face and my body—the only attributes I had apart from my dancing talent. I should let him leave. I should never have lured him there in the first place. I didn't know how long Igor and Mikhail were going to be gone. And bringing Max into Dmitry's radar didn't even bear thinking about. It was risky. It was dangerous. It was selfish, stupid, and reckless. But right now, I wasn't thinking with my brain; I was thinking with my cock. I was remembering how incredibly good it had felt to get fucked by him. He was an aggressive lover, a man who took what he wanted, but yet was still considerate enough to think of his partner's pleasure. Our bodies had fit together perfectly, and I wanted more. One more electric sexual experience before I ghosted him. With him right in front of me, I yearned for it.
I stood up, letting the robe slip off my shoulders to pool on the floor by my feet. I lifted my chin as I stood in front of him completely naked, my obvious arousal clearly on display. "Surely, you can stay for a little while?"
His body froze. But his eyes were moving. They were darting over every inch of my exposed body as if he couldn't make a decision which part to focus on first. His gaze heated, the same way it had back in the dressing room. He wanted me. There was no denying that. It just boiled down to whether he had the strength of will to walk away. Max let out a huff of breath. "Fucking hell! You're..." He swallowed, his gaze now focused on my crotch, my cock giving an answering twitch of appreciation at the interest.
"I'm what?"
"You know."
"It would be nice to hear it."
He spoke slowly as if the words were being forced out of him by torture. "You know you're fucking hot. I mean, your body, it's amazing." He waved his hands in front of him as if he'd lost the ability to put it into words.
"Thank you." I meant it. I'd heard it before, but from the mouth of someone who'd been ready to lynch me moments before, it somehow meant more. Plus, he didn't strike me as a man who gave out compliments that readily.
He moved forward, his lips on a collision course for mine. I stepped back and shook my head, causing Max's face to cloud over with confusion. "Why do you have a problem with kissing?"
I met his stare, refusing to look away. "Why do you have a problem with alcohol?"
He laughed. "I don't. It's all in your head."
I rolled my eyes and gestured to the jeans and shirt he was wearing. "Your turn. All I got to see was your cock the other day. I want to see more."
His hands moved straight to his shirt buttons. Funny how a little nakedness had completely eradicated his will to leave. I watched without comment as he stripped his shirt off before making short work of the bottom half of his body, until he too stood there naked. I did the same to him as he'd done to me: looking my fill and taking in the hairy chest and thick biceps before letting my gaze travel down over his abs to his cock. Even semi-erect, it was a good size, but then I'd already known that from when he'd been inside me. My asshole twitched in anticipation of it happening again. Very soon. Max seemed to mistake my silence for disapproval as he looked almost apologetic. "I don't have a dancer's body."
I dropped to my knees, delighting in Max's sharp intake of breath as he realized my intention. I lifted my hand, letting my fingers graze the hair stretching from his bellybutton to where it encircled his cock. "Looks fine to me." Leaving my hand resting on his abdomen, I leaned forward, stretching out my tongue and grazing his cock before I retracted it. Despite the fact that I'd barely made contact, the muscles underneath my hand quivered wildly. I sat back on my haunches, meeting Max's gaze with a smirk. "Anyone would think you'd never had your cock sucked before."
The glower was back, but it looked forced this time as if he was trying to be annoyed with me and not quite succeeding. "I think I'll prefer you with your mouth full. At least I'll be saved from being on the receiving end of your wicked tongue."
I threw my head back and laughed. Genuinely laughed for the first time in ages. "Darling, you're about to feel the full brunt of my wicked tongue, and you'll thank me for it. Now say please, and I'll consider it."
He looked like he had no intention of doing any such thing. I leaned in, letting my tongue trail over the delicate underside of his cock, but only for a second before I withdrew again. Then I sat back and looked at him. "I'm not hearing you."
"Please." The word sounded as if it had been squeezed out through tightly pressed lips.
"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
His cheeks flushed, but his eyes glittered. "I think I might hate you."
"That's probably for the best." Before he could think to question what I meant, I slid my lips over the head of his cock, my hands moving to his hips to pull him deeper. He went willingly, a shudder reverberating through his body as I took him deep into my throat. I was going to give him the best blow job he'd ever had. From the moans and shudders I was getting as I worked him expertly, my lips and tongue coordinating with the movement of my hand on his balls, I doubted very much that he'd have argued the fact.
Just at the point where the tightening of his muscles and the taste of precum on my tongue announced his orgasm to be close, I stopped. I let his cock slide out of my mouth with an obscene popping sound and sat back to stare up into his dazed face. "Still hate me?"
There wasn't even the slightest hesitation. "Yes."
I laughed and held out my hand. "Condom?"
Max crouched down, reaching across the floor to where he'd left his jeans and extracted one from his wallet. He passed it across silently, along with a packet of lube before rising to his feet again. I kept my gaze locked on his as I rolled the condom
over his cock, my body twitching with the need to have him buried inside me again. I added the lube before gesturing to the chair. "Sit down."
His eyes flicked to the adjoining door. "No bedroom. Why am I not surprised?" Despite his words, he did as he'd been told, seating himself on the chair, his stiff cock pointing straight up in the air as he braced his feet on the floor. I reached behind myself, using the remnants of the lube on my fingers to add extra before straddling him. I braced my hands on his shoulders, lowering myself slowly until the head of his cock nudged my asshole. I took a deep breath and pushed down, watching the ecstasy on his face as his cock slid home. His hands trailed over my back, kneading the muscles before moving lower to grasp my ass cheeks, his head dipping so that he could nuzzle my neck. I moved forward, giving him better access at the same time my chest pushed against his. I smiled as his hair rasped over my skin. "Fuck me, Max. Fuck me hard."
His lips stilled on my neck, the words he spoke producing a pleasant vibration. "Isn't this where you're meant to tell me that you have limited time? I might start thinking that you're not as cold as you pretend to be, if you're not careful."
I gyrated my hips, easing my body almost entirely off his cock before slamming it back down. "Do I feel cold to you?"
Max's groan was long and loud, his fingers flexing against my ass as he began to thrust. I looped my arms around his neck and held on for dear life, letting him do most of the work but using my position on top to prevent him from driving too deep, too soon. My eyelashes fluttered closed, and I concentrated on feeling, wanting to imprint every moment of this experience into my memory, every pant, every moan, every flex of muscles, every slide of his cock against my prostate, every place in which our bodies touched, the heat gathering between us.
Lips touched my ear. "Hold on."
My eyes snapped open just in time to see the world tip as Max stood, his cock still embedded in my ass. It was an impressive feat, given the fact we were the same height. He took a couple of steps forward before lowering me onto the rug. His knees fit between my thighs, and then he was braced on his arms, surging back into me. I stared up at him. I hated to be on my back. There was something about the position I'd never liked. But with his hips moving rapidly, every thrust sending a spark of pleasure through my body, it was hard to summon the energy to protest.
I wrapped a hand around my cock and watched him through lowered lashes. In the heat of passion, he was gorgeous: all flushed skin and straining muscles, his teeth biting into his lip as he thrust deep. I wrapped my thighs around his waist, using the superior strength of my thigh muscles to drive our bodies together harder. He wasn't having that. He grabbed my thighs, pushing them up to my shoulders and discovering how flexible I was as he pounded into me. I came first, my cum painting my stomach as he collapsed on top of me, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Fingers stroked my skin as he struggled to get his breathing back under control.
I closed my eyes again, trying to force back the cold fingers of reality as they inserted themselves into my brain. I wanted to revel in the feeling of the warm body draped over mine for a few more seconds. I wanted to take time to process the fact that I'd allowed him to take charge without even a single word of argument. But it was no good. There was only so long you could keep rational thoughts at bay. I pushed him off, wriggling out from underneath him and reaching for my robe. I wrapped it around me and belted it tightly, feeling better once I was no longer naked. Then I gathered up Max's clothes and dropped them on top of him. "Time to go."
He rolled onto his back, and I averted my gaze from the sight of the condom-covered cock, his erection subsiding. His eyes widened. "Wow! I thought I'd at least get to the minute mark after coming before you threw me out. But there he is, my cold Russian. Back with a vengeance as soon as he's gotten what he wanted. And to hell with everyone else." Max propped himself up on one elbow, making no move to get dressed. "You should think about hiring a prostitute next time. Then you won't get all this unnecessary drama. You can just pay them, and they'll leave."
My brain had stalled on the words "my cold Russian." He'd meant them as an insult, but there was something so possessive about them, so intimate, that they'd sent a strange thrill coursing through my body, and I was alarmed to discover I liked it. I liked it a lot.
I forced myself to concentrate on the rest of what he'd said, searching for the chink in his armor that I could exploit to make him leave before Dmitry got back and shit really hit the fan. His last words provided the perfect opportunity. I strolled over to the table where I'd left my wallet, grabbing a handful of notes without bothering to count how much it amounted to—more than a hundred pounds if I had to hazard a guess, and threw them at him. "There you go!"
Max shook his head, climbing to his feet angrily, the used condom dropping to the floor. He peeled a twenty-pound note from his chest, and it fluttered to the ground to join the condom. "You really are a piece of work! Do you know that?" He bent down to retrieve his clothes, stepping into his jeans angrily. "You think you can snap your fingers and you get everything you want: money, fame"—he lifted his head from where he was fastening the buttons on his shirt—"a dick up the ass. I have no idea why I was stupid enough to come here. It—"
"Why did you?" I should have let him rant, then leave. By engaging him in conversation, I was prolonging it.
"Because..." He forced one foot into his shoe."...I keep thinking that there must be more to you. That somewhere behind that mask you wear, there's a living, breathing human being capable of actual emotions."
"There isn't." They were two of the most difficult words I'd ever had to say. I lit a cigarette, careful to make sure that my hands didn't tremble. I held it to my lips and inhaled, letting the nicotine smooth away the edges of emotions I was pretending not to feel. Max was almost dressed. A few more seconds and he'd be gone, safe from possible harm and hating me enough that he wouldn't come near me again. Mission accomplished. A burning started in my chest as I watched him head for the door.
He turned at the last minute, the anger having given way to a thoughtful expression. "Maybe you're my karma."
"What do you mean?"
"I have one-night stands"—his face twisted—"a lot of them. And they often want more when I don't. So I guess the fact that it's the other way around serves me right." He lifted his hand, revealing a twenty-pound note clutched in his fist. "I'm taking this one, by the way. Not for services rendered, but for the cab money I wasted coming here." He paused as if he was waiting to see whether I'd argue. When I said nothing, did nothing, he left.
I collapsed back into the chair, my fingers gripping the cigarette so tightly it started to bend. I wished I could rewind, back to the part where I'd allowed my lust to get the better of me. If I could, I'd make better choices. Choices that wouldn't hurt someone else and in turn myself. Unfortunately, there was no turning back the clock.
Chapter Five
Max
"Sweetheart, can you set the table?"
"Sure, Mum." I dutifully placed a knife and fork at either side of the two placemats on the dining room table. Dinner was our Wednesday night routine. My mum would cook, and we'd eat together. Just the two of us. It had started off as a Thursday, but then Thursday became two drinks for the price of one night at my local bar, which was not only cheaper but also had the added bonus of enticing sexually adventurous students through its doors. They were easy pickings, particularly with a great deal of alcohol in them. So we'd swapped nights. Of course I hadn't told my mum the real reason. She wouldn't approve. I think I'd said it had something to do with work, and she'd believed me.
My mum breezed in, carrying two plates full of hot food, which she deposited on the table. "Paella. One of your favorites."
I smiled at her. "It certainly is. Do you have any beers in?"
Her face fell. "I thought maybe for once you might not drink."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Her hands curled reflexively around the back of
the chair. "Just that I've noticed that you've been drinking more recently. I'm worried, Max, that's all. You never used to drink this heavily. Maybe after James left, but—"
"Don't mention his name!" The words came out unnecessarily sharp, and I immediately felt guilty. But she knew better than to bring him up. It was a subject that had never been, nor ever would be, up for discussion. Even more than ten years later, the wounds hadn't healed. "And I don't drink that much." Christ! First Valentin and now my own mother is having a go at my drinking. Okay, so maybe I was drinking more frequently than I used to, but it wasn't as if I was an alcoholic. People needed to get off my back about it.
I sat down, giving up on the idea of a beer with dinner to relax me. It would only make my mother think she was right. I made an effort to change the subject as my mum seated herself in the chair opposite, her expression still one of concern. "How's Auntie Felicity? Did she manage to sort out the problem with her car?"
We spent the next twenty minutes chatting about relatives and what my mum had been up to in the last week. When she'd finished telling me about her hairdresser Ned's new boyfriend and their upcoming marriage in the spring, I braced myself, knowing with a sick sense of inevitability where the conversation would go next.
Sure enough, my mum hesitated before launching into it anyway, her fingers curling around my arm. "And guess what! Ned told me he has a friend who's gay. He's thirty, and he's just started dating again after a long-term relationship ended over a year ago. He has his own business, and he showed me a picture. He's really good-looking. Gorgeous blue eyes. I think he's got Italian heritage. Ned suggested that you might want to go on a date with him."
I stared at her, doing my best to remember that she only had my best interests at heart. I'd never even met Ned. Yet apparently the two of them had been having a heart-to-heart over her poor single son. Only that same poor, single son was perfectly happy to remain so. "No, thanks. I'm fine as I am."