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Yuriy released my ass but only to cup me through my lounge pants. “The thought of my cum dripping down your ass turns you on too. Doesn’t it?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but he stroked, and my erection grew. If he continued touching me like that, he would know my shameful secret.

“You didn’t say anything about touching my cock.” I clamped my eyes shut. Wrong words. Why were the wrong words coming out? I didn’t want him to touch any part of me at all.

Yuriy grinned, removing his hand, and I breathed a little freer.

“Sorry, just proving a point.” He held on to my waistband and took a step back. I followed him, even though I didn’t want to. I didn’t. He guided me in front of the sink, slipping behind me.

I attempted to pull away, but it was already too late. He was a wall at my back, warm and unyielding. My heart thrummed hard, a fast-paced rhythm that echoed the chaos racing through my veins. Breath hitched, I tried to piece together what fucked-up whirlwind had gotten me in this position. And what made me stay.

I hated Yuriy Orlov and couldn’t have him come on my ass. What would that say about me?

“You want to know what I thought the first time I saw you?” His warm breath ghosted the back of my neck as he rolled down the waistband of my pants an inch.

“No.”

The less information I had to push from my mind later, the better to forget about this.

“I thought it was a pity.”

“Pity?”

I swallowed as my pants slipped lower down the curve of my ass, but it wasn’t too bad because he wasn’t looking. His eyes bore into mine through the mirror.

“I thought it was a pity I’d have to kill someone with such a gorgeous face.” The material rolled farther down under my ass and rested on my thighs. “Anyone ever told you you’re a beautiful man, Stanislav Zhukovsky?”

No wonder he was so popular. He had the kind of charm that slid under your skin before you realized it was there—easy, practiced, dangerous. The sort of man who could smile while loading a gun and make you forget it was aimed at your heart.

“I don’t need any of your bullshit, Yuriy.”

He chuckled, lowering his head and grazing his teeth over my exposed shoulder. The sharp sting radiated heat throughout my body, making my cock throb. My breath came out in a pant.

It’d been too long since I got laid if Yuriy’s lips on my shoulder alone got me this turned on. How many years had it been?

“I’ve made you blush.”

“I’m not—” But another useless denial. From the mirror, my face reflected an undeniable flush. He was right, but I’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“Bend over.” A hand grasped the back of my neck, and Yuriy shoved my head down. He kicked my legs apart and groaned. “Fucking hell, Stas. I think I’ve changed my mind.”

I stiffened, anger swirling inside my gut that he’d made a fool out of me, putting me in this vulnerable position, then leaving me stiff and painful. I shoved him off and reached for my pants. “I’ll fucking kill you, Yuriy. Don’t toy with me.”

He grabbed my wrist, grinning.

Asshole.

“You didn’t let me finish. I mean, I’m not sure I can stop by just jerking off on your ass.”

I side-eyed him, uncertain whether I could trust him. “You’re not putting your cock inside me. I’m not gay.”

“Fine. Then bend over and let me visualize what it would be like. You threatening to kill me has just made me harder.”

“You’re a fucking psycho. That’s why.”

8

STAS