Page 128

“Yuriy—ah—” His voice cracked beautifully, and he tried to steady himself, but the ropes held him open and helpless. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t⁠—”

Oh, he was close.

I felt it in the way his thighs trembled around my head. Heard it in the way his breath stuttered instead of flowed. Saw it in the way he arched, muscles drawn tight like a bow ready to snap.

He rolled his hips, each movement more frantic than the last. He was seconds away from losing himself, seconds away from nutting inside my mouth.

“Yuriy—” He gasped, the sound dissolving into a moan. “I’m—please, don’t—please don’t stop. I’m⁠—”

I pulled away, scrambling out from under him.

Stas fell forward with a strangled noise, the loss of my mouth hitting him like cold water. His back rose and fell, and his thighs jerked. He stared back at me, confusion and desperation warring for dominance in him.

“Yuriy—what—?” His voice was broken, wild. “Why did you—? I was⁠—”

“Not yet.”

I kneeled beside him, calm, controlled, while he panted like he’d run a marathon. I smoothed a hand over the velvet skirt clinging to his hips and kissed the space between his shoulder blades.

The lube was still on the bedside table, almost finished. I dropped it next to me on the bed and scattered kisses over the expanse of Stas’s ass.

“Relax, krasavchik,” I murmured, caressing his side, my fingertips ghosting over the edge of the velvet skirt. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, flushed and disoriented beneath me, all his strength and power held captive by the silken ropes binding his wrists.

I grazed the tender flesh of his opening, and he twitched, his body arching into my touch.

“So beautiful,” I whispered and pressed a kiss to his back. I slid my other hand across the bed to grab the lube and popped the cap open. The familiar slickness coated my fingers. As I smeared it across his stretched entrance, he let out a sharp exhale.

“That’s it.” I petted his tense thighs and stroked him gently, teasing, then pushing one finger inside him. His reply was a strangled groan. His body seized up, then relaxed into the intrusion, accommodating me. He fell forward onto the pillow, burying his face into the soft fabric. The muscles in his backside tightened around my finger as I pushed it deeper inside him, sending shivers rippling through him. His gasp got muffled in the pillow, pleasure vibrating through his bound body.

I slowly inched my free hand up his thigh, toying with the hem of the skimpy velvet skirt, lifting it, then letting it fall back against his skin. The soft fabric against his hard physique was a sinful juxtaposition that made my mouth water.

Drawing my finger out of him, I quickly picked up the candy cane-shaped dildo from the bed.

“Relax, Stas.” I lined up the toy and watched his broad back rise and fall as he tried to catch his breath, anticipation causing his body to tremble.

The first touch of the cool glass against him made him jolt, but he still trusted me, letting his body yield under my ministrations. The dildo slid home with surprising ease, widening him, an utterly beautiful sight.

“Come on, open up around it.” I slapped his right cheek hard, and he cried out. I laughed. “Loved that, do you?” I smacked his ass again, the red imprint of my hand stark against his skin. A low chuckle rumbled in my chest as I slowly twisted the candy cane dildo inside him. His body seized up, then relaxed again.

His breath hitched, the silence interrupted by the soft creaking of the headboard as he strained against the ropes. His body writhed, the velvet skirt bunched up around his waist, no longer serving any purpose other than to accentuate his vulnerability.

I pulled the toy back, earning a whimper of loss from him. “Yuriy, I need you.”

I leaned over him, whispering against his skin, “Can you take us both, krasavchik?”

“Yes.”

I reached for the lube, coating my fingers and applying it generously to myself. I hovered over him for a moment, my gaze trailing over the expanse of his back, the curve of his ass, the velvet skirt pushed to his waist.

I spread him open again, pressing my thumb into his warmth. His hole pulsed and quivered around me. His moan echoed in the dim room. Carefully I guided my cockhead to his entrance, the same place where the glass candy cane rested. I held my breath as he shifted beneath my hand, the muscles of his back rippling under the strain.

“Ready?” The word hung in the air between us.

“Yes,” he whispered into the pillow, the soft fabric muffling his voice.

I pushed forward, entered him gently, joining the candy cane nestled within him. He cried out, the sound a harsh, ragged gasp, arching his back to accommodate me better. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I would see him like this, dolled up in my filthy fantasies, yet there he was, bared and open beneath me.

The sight of him straining to accept both the dildo and my cock, writhing, the feeling of him tightening around us, the sound of his labored breaths—it was everything.