I step out of the bathroom, and the insane Russian in question is standing in my kitchen holding Clover and eating something from my fridge.
I stare at his bare feet and gray jeans from behind, then up to a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.No, don’t get distracted by his looks.
“Did you order groceries? And a bike?”
He turns around and keeps petting Clover while chewing something. There’s a gash on his left arm that definitely needs stitches. I have to fight the urge to patch him up again.
“Why would you do that?”
“You are angry.”
“Yes, I’m angry. I can afford my own things, you know.”
“You can’t survive on grapes and almond milk.”
“What?”
He stares at me. Flat. Unimpressed. He is looking at me as if I’m the unreasonable one when he’s the one breaking into my apartment and making decisions about my life without asking.
“You need food. Real food, not grapes and cheap sandwiches. Your bike’s been missing since that woman cut you off and you crashed. I noticed.”
“Why would you do this? I didn’t ask you to.”
He puts Clover down gently and walks toward me. I automatically take a step back before I can stop myself. Something flickers across his face when he notices, but he doesn’t comment on it. He keeps moving until he’s close enough to place his hand under my chin and lift it until I’m forced to look into those dark eyes. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I don’t pull away.
“Zaychik.” His thumb brushes my jaw. “This isn’t up for debate. I want to take care of you. I’ve never begged for a single thing in my entire life, but I will beg you for this. Please. Just let me do this for you.”
My breath catches as his hand cups my balls through the towel. Before I can say anything, he crashes his mouth onto mine. His other hand grips the back of my head, pulling me harder into him. My mouth parts on instinct, and he uses it to push his tongue inside.
My cock swells so fast it presses against the towel. He grabs my thighs and lifts me up. My legs lock around his waist, my arms around his neck. He doesn’t break the kiss as he carries us to my bedroom and lays me down carefully on the mattress.
His hands go straight to his belt. He unbuckles it, drags his pants and boxers down just far enough to free his hard cock, leaving the rest hanging loose.
He pulls his T-shirt off, and my mouth waters at the sight of his six-pack on full display.
Whatever I was mad about disappears when he looks at me like he plans to devour me.
He drops to his knees and grabs my hips, pulling me closer, lifting my thighs until my ass is fully exposed.
He licks his lips and starts kissing around my balls. Heat spreads as his tongue drags over my skin before he sucks one slowly. I reach down to stroke myself, desperate for something. His head snaps up, and he swats my hand away.
“Not yet.”
I actually want to whine. I’m so desperate to touch myself.
He goes directly back to licking my balls, then further down.
“That’s so good … please don’t stop,” I whimper.
His hands slide under my ass, then up around my hips. He pulls me harder into him and buries his face between my cheeks. His tongue works me open, swirling and pushing inside of me. His stubble scratches against skin with every movement.
I’ve never had anyone do this to me before. It’s overwhelming—every nerve ending on fire. Pleasure I didn’t know existed.
I try to contain the moan, but I can’t. Not when I feel one of his fingers press against the tight ring of muscle and slowly push inside. I gasp from the pleasure.
His tongue keeps swirling around my hole while he works his finger in and out. When it hits against my prostate, I gasp again. Pre-cum leaks out of me, dripping onto my stomach. My hands go to my cock again. I glance down at him, searching for permission. His deep brown eyes stare back at me while he thrusts his tongue in and out of my hole. He nods.
I spit in my hand and grab myself, stroking in time with his movements. Each tug makes me feel like I’m about to erupt. He pushes against my prostate again, tongue and finger working together, stretching me open.
