He reaches back and nudges it shut with his foot. The soft click of the lock makes my heart jump. “Not until I get what I want.” His mouth drops to my ear, guiding me forward until my palms press to the cool, polished wood of the windowsill. “Spread your feet, Jonah.”
I widen my stance, my ass pushing back toward him as my cock hardens in my sweats. Viktor’s hand slides under the waistband. His fingers feel cold against my overheated skin. My breath catches when he wraps his hand around me to strokeslowly. “You’re perfect like this.” His grip tightens, certain and possessive. “Do you want more, krasavchik? Because I sure as fuck do.”
My hips push into his fist, my body making the choice for me. “Viktor?—”
“I know.” He drops lower behind me. “I’m going to make you feel good.”
He sinks to his knees. The expensive carpet swallows the sound of his movement. “You’ve got me hard as hell, krasavchik. You and your sexy ass. Let me taste you.”
He rolls down my pants. The cool air hits my skin, and before I realize what he is about to do, his hands spread my cheeks. He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth presses against my rim, the heat of his tongue shocking against the sensitive skin. “Hands on the windowsill,” he commands, his voice sending a low vibration through my body. “You stay where I put you until I say otherwise.”
“Y—yes.”
Viktor spreads me further. I feel his tongue lick across my hole. My head drops forward against the window. The glass feels cool and frictionless against my forehead. The fog from my breath begins to cloud the view of the snow. “Fuck, that feels good.”
A low sound rolls out of him, the vibration carrying through my frame. His tongue moves in slow passes at first, long strokes that follow the line of my crack before he comes back up firmer, dragging the flat of his tongue over me like he is mapping the territory. Each lick lands lower, edging closer until he is circling me in tight, teasing laps that make my knees shake.
He answers my unspoken plea by pressing closer, his warmth grounding me as his tongue pushes just lightly enough that my whole body tries to push back for more. His hands grip my hips to keep them still. “Do you want more?”
“Fuck—yes, god, that feels?—”
Heat floods my chest while the fog on the window thickens, blurring my reflection with every shaky breath. Viktor reaches under me and wraps his hand around my cock, matching his strokes to his mouth until my body rocks between his grip and the windowsill. My legs shake with the effort of staying upright. I can feel the build, that agonizing pressure at the base of my spine. “I’m close,” I warn.
He pulls back before I can come and smacks my ass once. The sound cracks sharp in the quiet room. “Not yet.”
He rises and crowds me from behind, his chest pressing to my back. My chest heaves. The aftershocks of almost coming leave me lightheaded. His hands slide to my hips and don’t let me move as his mouth brushes my neck. “Stay here. I’m not done with you.”
I nod, bracing my palms on the sill. He reaches for the lube on the nightstand. The snap of the lid sounds loud in the silence. He slicks his fingers, the touch returning warm as he presses one finger inside me. The stretch pulls a sound out of me I can’t swallow down. He adds a second finger and works me open until my knees threaten to give. My internal walls clench around him, pulling instinctively. When he drags his fingers out, I make a broken sound of protest. “Turn around.”
I do, my chest rising hard while my cock remains flushed and leaking. Viktor grips my hips and suddenly lifts me, hoisting me clean off the floor to set me on the dresser’s edge. The cool surface hits my back and the mirror reflects the ruined look of my face. He looks at me for a long beat, his eyes dark with a hunger that makes my skin prickle.
“You’re ready for me,” he murmurs. “Look at what you’re doing to that mirror.”
My legs wrap around his waist without him asking. He pushes them wider until I feel split open for him. The blunt heatof his cock presses to my entrance, firm and patient. He doesn’t hesitate, but waits for me to adjust to the pressure. “Tell me if anything changes.”
“I won’t.”
He pushes in. A choked cry breaks out of me as he sinks deep. My hands fly to his shoulders because there’s nowhere else for the shock to go. I can feel him stretching me, filling every bit of the emptiness I’ve felt for years. “Fuck, Jonah.” His mouth presses to my jaw. “You’re tight. Hold on.”
He pulls out halfway and drives back in hard. The force knocks the breath from my lungs while the dresser shudders under us. He fucks me in quick, sharp thrusts, his hips snapping forward and his grip bruising my thighs in the best way.
“Look at you.” His grip tightens. “Already losing it.”
I am. My legs try to tighten around him, but he forces them wider to hold me open for every stroke. It’s a total takeover. “Harder…please?—”
He answers by driving into me faster and deeper, each thrust landing hard enough that it lights something white-hot along my spine. My head falls back against the mirror above the dresser, the glass humming with the impact. “Eyes on me.”
I drag my gaze down to meet his. His pupils are blown and his jaw is tight with the effort of holding himself together. He looks like a man possessed. “You feel how deep I am?” Another thrust forces a broken sound from my throat. “You take me like you were made for it.”
“Viktor… I’m—I’m close?—”
His hand closes around my cock, stroking me in a rough, perfect rhythm with his thrusts. His breath ghosts my mouth, tasting like vodka and heat. “Come for me… now.”
I break, the orgasm ripping through me in a violent rush while my body clenches around him. I cry out, my fingers digging into his shoulders. The second I clamp down, Viktorloses control. He slams into me one last time and spills inside me with a gutted sound, his hips jerking through it until he finally drags in air. “Mine,” he murmurs against my skin. “Every fucking part.”
When our breathing slows, Viktor eases out of me with a quiet groan. I shiver at the loss of the heat. “Stay there.”
He grabs a cloth from the dresser, wets it in the adjoining bathroom, and returns to clean me gingerly. His thumb brushes the inside of my thigh to ground me. It is a tender gesture that feels more intimate than the sex. He helps me off the dresser when my legs threaten to fold, his hand staying at my waist until I’m steady. “Are you good?”
