Page 42 of Hold the Line

But not fifteen minutes later, the vodka I did manage to drink starts creeping up on me. It hits subtly at first — a warm buzz under my skin, making everything feel a little softer, a little hotter. My hand moves on its own, sliding over Viktor’s where it rests on my thigh. Slowly, I start dragging his hand higher, guiding those big, rough fingers further up under the table until they’re dangerously close to the seam of my sweats.

Viktor’s head turns sharply. He stares at me, his eyes narrowing in warning. Then he leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Keep it up, Vance. See what happens.”

The threat should probably scare me. Instead, my brain immediately lights up with curiosity and pure, chaotic want. What exactly will happen? I want to know. I really, really want to know. So I keep going, sliding his hand even higher, fingers brushing teasingly over the growing bulge in my sweats while I smile innocently at the table like nothing is happening.

Viktor tries to keep it cool. His face stays mostly neutral, eyes fixed somewhere across the table like he’s listening to the conversation. But I can feel the tension in his hand on my thigh, the way his fingers flex like he’s fighting the urge to do exactly what I want.

I don’t stop. I’m too far gone already — the vodka, the praise, the way he’s been touching me under the table all night — it’s all mixed together into something desperate and stupid. I press his hand harder against my bulge, grinding subtly into his palm through my sweats. I’m already rock hard, aching, breathing way too fast for someone just sitting at dinner. My heart is hammering because I’m nervous as fuck about what happens when you push the Russian wall too far… but I want to find out. I really, really want to find out.

Viktor turns his head toward me slowly. And then he gives my cock a firm, deliberate squeeze through the fabric.

I bite down hard on my own tongue to keep from moaning out loud, a sharp little sound escaping anyway as my hips jerk into his grip. Heat floods my face. My dick twitches hard under his hand, leaking into my sweats.

Viktor leans in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Room. Now.”

That’s all it takes. I shoot up from my chair so fast it topples backward with a loud clatter, startling Elias beside us. “Shit— sorry, I— uh— bathroom,” I stammer, already moving, face burning as half the table turns to look at me. Viktor stands up smoothly behind me, calm as ever, but I can feel the heat rolling off him as he follows me out of the restaurant.

My legs feel shaky the entire walk to the elevator. I’m so fucking turned on I can barely think straight, and the way Viktor’s hand stays possessively on my lower back the whole time only makes it worse.

The second the words leave my mouth, Cole bolts from the table like the devil himself is chasing him, nearly knocking his chair over again in his haste. I follow at a measured pace, but my blood is already burning. The team’s knowing laughter and Elias’s dramatic wolf whistle fade behind us as we head toward the elevators. Cole keeps glancing back at me, equal parts nervous and excited, his cheeks flushed from the vodka and the tension he spent the entire dinner stoking.

The elevator doors open and he steps inside quickly. I follow right behind him. The moment the doors slide shut and the car starts moving upward, I move.

I press him against the mirrored wall face-first, my chest flush to his back, one hand braced beside his head while the other grips his hip hard. The mirrored surfaces reflect us from every angle — my much larger frame caging him in, his breath already fogging the glass. Cole’s body tenses, then melts back into me with a shaky exhale, his ass pressing against my cock like he cannot help himself.

“You want to play games, little bird?” I ask, letting him feel exactly how hard I am for him already. My hand slides around to the front of his sweats, palming him possessively through the fabric. “Teasing me under the table all night. Calling me daddy in front of the whole team. Dragging my hand where it does not belong. You think I will let that go unpunished?”

Cole whimpers, his forehead pressed to the cool mirror, hips rocking helplessly into my grip. The elevator dings softly as it climbs, but neither of us pays any attention. I squeeze him again, slower this time, and watch in the reflection as his eyes flutter shut, lips parted on a silent moan.

“Yeah?” he gasps, voice breathless and defiant as he pushes against me. “What are you gonna do about it, big guy? Gonna punish me? Right here where anyone could walk in? Sounds like you’re the one playing games now—”

I have had enough.

I spin him around, hands gripping his thighs as I lift him clean off the floor. Cole’s back hits the mirrored wall with a dull thud, his legs wrapping instinctively around my waist as I press him there, holding him up like he weighs nothing. His eyes widen, dark and glassy with want, lips parted on a surprised sound that I immediately swallow with a brutal kiss.

I kiss him like I have been starving for him for years — because I have. My tongue slides against his, claiming every inch of that smart mouth that has driven me insane since the day I met him. Cole moans into it, the sound vibrating against my lips as his hands fist desperately in my shirt, pulling me closer like he cannot get enough. I bite his bottom lip, then soothe it with my tongue, grinding my hips up into him so he can feel exactly how hard I am, how badly I need him.

The elevator keeps rising, soft dings marking each floor, but I do not care. Let the whole hotel know. Cole is mine, and right now I am done pretending otherwise.

When I pull back just enough to let him breathe, his lips are swollen, eyes dazed, and he is panting against my mouth like he has run a marathon. I rest my forehead against his, my voice rough with every ounce of restraint I have left. “You talk too much,” I growl. “Keep pushing and I will fuck you right here against this wall.”

Cole’s breath hitches, his legs tightening around me, but the wicked little spark in his eyes tells me he is considering it.

“Is that so?” Cole moans, daring even while pinned against the mirrored wall. Before I can respond, his hand shoots out and slaps the emergency button. The elevator jerks to a sudden halt with a loud ding, the lights flickering once before settling. In the brief moment of surprise, Cole squirms like the slippery little thing he is, sliding down my body until his feet hit the floor.

He drops to his knees in one fluid motion. My jeans are undone in seconds — his fingers fast and greedy — and then he pulls me out, hard and leaking, wrapping that sinful mouth around me without hesitation. The cool metal of his piercing presses against the underside of my cock as he takes me deep, sucking hard, eyes watering but locked upward on mine with pure filthy challenge.

“Fuck—” I slam one hand against the mirror beside his head with a loud smack, the other immediately tangling in his hair, gripping tight. My head falls back on a groan, hips twitching forward into the wet heat of his mouth. He is relentless, tongue working the piercing against me in ways that make my vision blur, sucking and swirling like he is trying to ruin me right here in this elevator.

That is when I see the small security camera mounted in the corner, its red light blinking steadily.

Shit. Zara is going to kill us if this footage gets out.

I am tall enough to reach it. Without thinking, still groaning from the way Cole’s mouth feels around me, I swing my free hand up and punch the camera hard. The plastic cracks under my fist, the lens shattering, and the little red light dies.

Cole makes a surprised, muffled sound around me at the sudden violence, but he does not stop. If anything, he takes me deeper, moaning like the risk only makes it better for him. My hand tightens in his hair, breath ragged as I look down at him — my loud, chaotic, impossible man on his knees in a stopped elevator, sucking me like he was born for it.

I should stop this. I should pull him up and get us to the room before we get caught. But the sight of him like this, the wet heat of his mouth, the glint of that fucking piercing — it is too much.