Sacha let him have his way, but briefly, and it was worse than if he hadn’t let Jonah move at all. The friction was electric. Mind-bending. And then it was gone.
Sacha stepped back, taking his dick and his wicked lips with him, and Jonah was alone. At least, it felt that way without Sacha’s touch, despite the reality that he hadn’t gone far.
The tearing sound of a condom wrapper reached Jonah’s ears, and theclickof the lubricant bottle. He shivered, not because he was scared it would hurt, but because he knew how absolutely this man was about to take him apart.
He’s going to dismantle me, and I’m going to love it.
How did he prepare for that?
Jonah had no idea. So he waited, head bowed, eyes closed, fists still pressed against the glass wall, and tried to make ready for a hurricane.
Sacha returned, pressing up behind him. His body heat warmed Jonah’s skin, and he slid his palms up Jonah’s back, all the way to his shoulders. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
“How about if I do this?”
One hand left Jonah’s back, and returned as slick fingers dipping into his crease, probing, searching. Sacha’s touch was still devilishly light, but Jonah felt iteverywhere. He groaned again, widening his stance with little conscious thought. “That’s good. I like that.”
“And this?” Sacha pressed a finger inside Jonah and found the sweet spot with laser precision.
At Jonah’s nod, he added another finger and fucked Jonah with them, slow and sweet, massaging Jonah’s prostate with every thrust, building a desperate pressure that unhinged Jonah’s jaw.
Christ. It’s just his fingers. How the hell am I going to handle his cock?
His subconscious had no answer, and for long minutes it didn’t matter. Sacha worked him open with his fingers, then pulled back and rubbed his slicked, sheathed dick along Jonah’s crease, brushing his hole, but not pushing inside. It was perfect torture, but Jonah needed it. Every nerve was screaming out for Sacha’s cock inside him, but,fuck,his brain was lagging behind.
And Sacha seemed to know it, teasing Jonah for an endless stretch of time until Jonah was shaking with need, and unable to recall that he’d ever wanted to wait.
“Do it.” He widened his legs again. “Please.”
Sacha answered with his cock, dragging it along Jonah’s crease one last time before pressing against his hole, sliding inside inch by slow inch, until he wasright there.
The pressure was unbelievable. Sacha’s dick was huge, and Jonah felt him in every facet of his body. It was dizzying and he staggered, lurching sideways.
Sacha caught him with a strong arm around his torso, steadying himself with a hand on the glass beside Jonah’s. “Easy. I will fuck you lying down, but I do not want to fall to get there.”
Jonah choked out a laugh. “Get a smaller cock then.”
“There is nothing wrong with my cock. You can take it.”
Jonah wasn’t so sure. He was no stranger to bottoming, but Sacha was something else. More than size, Sacha was power. Strength. Poise. Everything Jonah had believed of himself until the Russian had stepped into the lift and turned his entire evening upside down.
In a good way, though. Without him you’d still be at the Dorchester pretending you wouldn’t rather drown yourself than answer the same fucking questions over and over.
He didn’t think about William Ratner. Hadn’t since Sacha had blocked him out and given Jonah far better things to think about. Things like—“Fuck.”
Way ahead of him, Sacha began to move, eviscerating Jonah’s brain power. He circled his hips, driving his cock in and out of Jonah at an infuriating pace. A leisurely pace, as if they had all night, though Jonah supposed they did if—
Sacha cut him off again, fine tuning the velocity of his slow thrusts until they were steady enough for the slap of flesh on flesh to drown out the thump of Jonah’s racing heart. He fucked Jonah hard, holding him with one arm, and bracing himself on the window with the other. His breaths grew heavy, merging with Jonah’s ragged moans. He pressed his forehead to Jonah’s shoulder and tightened his arm around him. “Jonah Gray,” he ground out. “You are something special, no?”
The power of speech had deserted Jonah the moment Sacha had put his hands on him. He had nothing. He pressed back against Sacha, taking him deeper, and his own cock ached to be touched, but stubbornness kept his hands on the glass even as Sacha fucked him harder.
More sounds fell from him that he didn’t recognise as his own. His body became one with Sacha’s cock driving inside him. Pleasure sluiced through his veins, melting every synapse in its path. His strangled gasps became drawn-out moans. “Oh god. I’m going to come.”
“Do it.” Sacha dug his fingers into Jonah’s flank. “Come for me while I fill you up.”
The dirty words shoved Jonah over the edge. His climax rushed him, eclipsing every sense. He yelled out a stream of curses, barely registering Sacha growling in Russian behind him, and his cock erupted, painting the window with wet heat.