Page 23 of Bent, Not Broken

“They’re usually a breakfast food.” I walked around the table and sat down in the farthest seat away from him.

He glanced over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows. “Live a little, Slater. You need protein for what we’ll be doing all night.”

As if that was the reminder I needed, my gaze slid down the length of his naked back to his muscular ass. The whole sleeping with a man thing was fucking weird and I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. I wasn’t as worried about it as I should have been. Polunin was a male, with a dick and ballsack and no woman-sized tits, and if we fucked, I had to stick my cock in his asshole. This should have been a bigger deal than it was. I’d never been interested in dudes before.

I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled in frustration.

Polunin turned to me, his eyebrows jumping high. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to fuck this again.” He slapped his ass, the cheek jiggling, and my attention narrowed in on that delicious piece of flesh. My cock fattened and the only thing hiding it from Polunin was the table. I slid my hand underneath and wrapped my fingers around my hardening erection, not missing the way Polunin’s eyes followed the movement. Pleasure jolted through my groin. He chewed on his bottom lip before his mouth turned up in a delicious, knowing smile.

“What are you waiting for? Be my home-bitch. Cook me some eggs.” My skin prickled at my own dirty words, and I expected him to retaliate and tell me to fuck off. He didn’t.

He pressed his lower back against the kitchen counter, not tall enough for his ass to reach it, and cupped his balls, rolling them in his hand. “If I do this, will you promise to fuck me on the kitchen table, Officer?”

I smiled before I thought better of it. “I’ll more than fuck you, Polunin. I’ll destroy you.”

He placed his hand over his heart, blinking dramatically at me. “My hero.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips did that weird sort of twitch again. I managed to keep the smile under control this time. Polunin couldn’t make me smile too often.

He laughed and went to the sink to wash his hands before holding them up to me. “Can’t touch food when I’ve been playing with my balls, can I? Do you have some pants I can put on? I don’t want to hurt the goods, if you know what I mean.”

I snorted and pushed myself to my feet. My half-hard cock swung between my legs as I sauntered past him, making no move to hide my plumping erection from his hungry gaze. Moving down the hallway again, I got to my bedroom and put on a pair of gym shorts. I rifled through my drawers and grabbed Polunin the smallest pair of shorts I owned. He had trimmer hips, but at least he could pull the drawstring to make them tighter.

By the time I got back, he had a dab of oil in a cast-iron pan and was heating the stove. I passed him the shorts, and he winked in thanks and pulled them up his legs. I made sure to avert my gaze when he bent over to tug them up. My dick already felt heavy in my pants, I didn’t want to see his tempting hole and go full erection mode, not when we were about to eat.

“You don’t have much food in the house,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me after he’d turned to crack the eggs into the pan.

I shrugged. “I don’t eat here much.”

“Why not?”

Settling into the seat at the table again, I stared around at the old, worn cupboards. I’d tried to revitalize them by fixing their hinges and sanding them over, but it wasn’t hard to tell they were over thirty years old. The walls got a repaint when I first bought the place, and I went with a sky blue to highlight the navy cupboards and food cabinet I’d installed. The kitchen still needed work, the whole house did, but I was proud of what I’d accomplished. I couldn’t bring myself to be embarrassed, even though I was sure Polunin was used to a fancier home. I couldn’t imagine living in the mansion his parents called theirs. I’d driven past it once to get an idea of who I was up against, and the thought of the wealth he came from made my fists curl against the wooden table.

“How do you know how to cook? Don’t you have maids or something to do it for you?” I snapped, bile rising in my throat.

He chuckled. “Sure, but they don’t work all the time. I taught myself a few skills. I wasn’t going to live under my parents’ roof forever.”

“You still do, though,” I pointed out.

“I know, but….” He spun on me, eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “How do you know where I live?”

“Uh.” Fuck.

He crossed his arms and turned fully toward me, the eggs forgotten in the pan. “Have you been searching me on your databases, Officer Slater?”

“No!” I racked my brain for an excuse, but nothing came. I’d put my foot in my mouth. “The eggs are burning.”

He snorted. “They’re not. Nice attempt at changing the topic. Are you going to answer me? How do you know where I live?”

“I don’t have to answer a damn thing, Polunin.” I shoved myself to my feet and walked over to crowd him against the counter. He stared up at me, our height difference making me feel powerful. He barely reached my shoulders, and there was something sexy about the way I towered over him. His eyes darkened and lips tilted, almost daring me to make a move. “You’re not my wife, stop questioning me.”

“What will you do if I don’t stop?” He carefully glided his warm hand up my chest and then touched the back of my neck, dragging me down into a rough kiss that had my cock twitching in my shorts. He fucked his tongue into my mouth and moaned, humping his dick against my thigh. I grabbed his ass, lifting him up onto the counter, and his legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my asscheeks hard enough to leave a bruise. He nipped at my bottom lip and traced my mouth with his tongue.

The eggs made a loud sizzling noise, and he reached over blindly, moved them off the working coil, and then twisted the knob on the stove to off before he attached his lips to mine again. He rocked against me, and I dug my fingernails into his ass. It was too bad he had shorts on because I wanted to hear him hiss at the feel of my nails biting into his skin.

He groaned into my mouth, eyes slipping closed as his arms curled around my neck. He tasted faintly of my favorite orange juice, and I slapped his thigh for his obvious disregard of my home and possessions.

“Hm? What was that for?” He pouted at me when he leaned back, his lips swollen, gaze cloudy with lust. His hair stuck up at different angles, and I hadn’t realized that I’d slid my hand into it, tugging at the short brown strands.