Burying my nose in his hair, I murmur, “He’s wondering what it takes to get you on your knees. Should I show him?”
Jonah’s body goes rigid before a shiver rolls through him. He grips my forearms until his knuckles turn white. His head falls back against my shoulder. “Viktor, no,” he gasps, but the sound is ruined by the way his hips stutter against mine. “He’s, he’s right there.”
“I know he is,” I growl into the shell of his ear. “Watch how he looks away when I claim what’s mine.”
Nikolai pretends to focus on the computer, but he fails. I feel his eyes all over us. Good. Let him watch. Snaking an arm around Jonah’s neck, I pull him in. He smells like coffee and heat, and he opens so easily for me. I know I’ll never get enough. Nibbling on his bottom lip, I lick inside his mouth. He wiggles on top of me while he pants. I blindly grab a piece of fruit from the tray and then rest my free palm on his thigh. Heat jumps under my skin as Jonah inhales too sharply.
“Eat.” I bring the strawberry to his lips. He bites into the fruit and fresh juice leaks down his mouth. I catch it with my tongue, licking it up while he swallows.
“More.”
He takes another bite and lets me suckle the juice from his lips. Behind us, Nikolai clears his throat. Jonah’s pupils are blown and his face is flushed. The tremble in his wrist gets worse every time my thumb drags slow circles on the inside of his thigh, tracing the heat near his groin. He manages a handful of strawberries before I stop thinking and just decide to take him.
Drifting my fingers inward, I shove down his sweatpants while making sure to turn us so Nikolai can't see a single inch of Jonah’s skin. He shrieks when his cock springs free and into my palm. “Hm. You’re already wet for me.”
A sharp, choked sound escapes him. “V, Vik,”
“Keep eating.”
“I—I…” His face goes red. “C—can't concentrate.”
“I know,” I murmur while I stroke faster. The plate clatters to the floor. “Look away, Nikolai. Stand up for me, krasavchik.”
Jonah rises shaky, steps out of the bunched fabric at his ankles. Sliding my palm under his sweatshirt, I push it up and watch every muscle jump under the cold air. “Arms up.”
He lifts them. I pull the sweatshirt off in one motion and toss it to the desk. Jonah stands there half-naked in front of another man, flushed and shaking. He is pale and vulnerable against the dark wood of my desk, his body shivering as I strip him bare. Another man who would've never looked his way when I tell him not to. Jonah doesn't look at him either because he only looks at me.
“Turn around.”
He obeys. His palms brace on the desk and his breath fogs the polished surface. Pulling his pants and briefs down just far enough, I feel the air hit him. He jerks and his thighs tremble. Nikolai clears his throat. “Pakhan?—”
Ignoring him, I spit on Jonah’s rim and slick my fingers. Then I press and enter his hole. Jonah pushes back helplessly, already opening for me. “Good boy, krasavchik moy.”
He makes a sound that isn't a word and his knees bend. Guiding my cock to him, I ease in, feeling him stretch around me. Jonah whimpers while his fingers dig into the desk. “Vikt, ah, ah,”
“Ssh.”
“I need—I need…”
“I know, and I’m going to give it to you.”
Jonah’s breath shatters while his lower body shakes under the effort. I push deeper and feel the heat and tightness clamp around me. Then I pull Jonah back onto me, gripping him firmlyby his hips. The desk creaks and the sound spurs me, driving me crazy with the need to own him completely. His forehead drops onto his arm and his breath breaks against the wood. “Slower?—”
“Yes, you can,” I grunt while I thrust deeper.
His cry breaks against the desk, muffled by the wood. I grip his body tighter and pound into him, each thrust rough enough to shake through both of us. His breath catches every time I hit that spot that makes his thighs tremble. Papers slide across the desk. Jonah’s fingers claw for purchase but find nothing but polished lacquer.
“Vik—Vik, please…”
Jonah’s body tightens around me, fluttering and pulling at me. His cock drags against the desk, leaving a wet streak every time my thrusts rock him forward. “Fuck,” he gasps. His spine arches in a sharp, helpless bow.
I slam into him again, deeper and harder. His whole body jolts. “You can,” I growl. “You take me so well, krasavchik. Look at you.”
He whimpers. One more thrust and he almost sobs. “Come.”
His breath fractures, a broken sound torn from his chest as his body locks. I hold him there, pressed close, feeling every shudder as he comes undone. He breaks instantly, shouting as his cock shoots across the desk. His whole body seizes and squeezes so tight my rhythm hitches for a fraction of a second. I keep fucking him, pounding into the heat of him.
He chokes on a half sob. “Viktor, wait, I can’t?—”
