Lead and Follow (12 page)

Lizzie waited with blatant anticipation, smiling indulgently. She’d left her arms draped over Paul’s neck. “I follow very well.”

“Yes, little one,” he agreed, swept over with an indulgent warmth. “You do. Most of the time. You can tell our Paul how well things turn out when you do.”

Our Paul.
So private and possessive. The Texan didn’t even flinch.

She leaned into his chest, catching Dima’s forearms between them. Paul heaved a quiet breath. Her fingertips grazed his nape right before Dima’s eyes. Cream, tan, blonde—all pretty smoothed colors.

“He’s never led me wrong.” When she looked past their erstwhile partner to Dima, her eyes sparked with a silent message.

Dima was afraid of what that message might mean. Because to be honest, he
had
let her down. That didn’t mean he wanted to hear it from her. He liked being there for Lizzie when she needed him. No matter what that meant.

Even when it meant fucking a tall, sexy cowboy.

Not that the idea was a huge sacrifice.

Rather than chase the meaning in Lizzie’s eyes and ruin the moment, he smoothed a hand down Paul’s chest. Despite the strength thrumming under his touch, he kept it light. Casual. He tugged Paul by a belt loop, turned him so they were face-to-face.

By the expression he wore, the other man wasn’t fully committed, as Dima had suspected. Interested, yes. Tempted. Still, there remained a layer of thick trepidation way down deep, like a ghost still wandering the earth—something Paul couldn’t shake.

Dima didn’t mind making long-term plans. He never had. Stretching this adventure out another few encounters wouldn’t be bad at all. Not to mention that Lizzie and her recent running-hard mentality would probably benefit from a slow burn.

He cupped Paul’s face in one hand. Stubble abraded his palm in a delicious hint of texture. Hardness and power. He hadn’t been with a man in years. Not since before Svetlana. There was something final about this setup. Not that tonight was destined to be the only time the three of them played together, but rather that this marked the end of an era for Dima and Lizzie. Their entire relationship would change after this—even more than it already had.

Either advance…or end.

A terrifying, bone-chilling thought. One he wouldn’t allow.

“Will you follow?”

Paul’s throat worked over a swallow, and his chest shuddered again. “I’ll try. That’s about all I can promise.”

“Good enough.” For now.

The curious part was that Dima wouldn’t have accepted the same answer from Lizzie. A tide of demands would’ve swelled within him, craving concessions they’d never considered.

It hadn’t been Lizzie. She still devoured him and Paul with her gaze. If he knew her like he thought he did, she was holding back more than one comment. Good that she realized there was no place for her nervous chatter tonight. Everyone was too skittish.

The edge within him honed to a sharp blade—like standing on stage before the lights went up as energy jerked to levels he’d worked for decades to restrain. He laced his fingers around Paul’s thick neck and tugged, pulled him down so that their lips were level. Dima didn’t stretch up, which further established his dominance. Paul was the newcomer and the visitor. He would give way. Not the other way around.

The kiss became exploration. Tasting. Orange and vodka taken by sweeps of his tongue in Paul’s mouth. Dima hated alcohol, hated what it meant for his family, but from such a sexy source it became dark and delicious. Under his hand, Paul’s jaw worked subtly. Slowly. They dove together into the possibilities.

A sigh slid through the air. Lizzie had come around their sides, weaving touches over them both. Dima’s back prickled with the lovely trace of her fingertips down his spine. He pulled his mouth from Paul’s but still held the man’s face—not letting him back away.

“Like what you’re seeing, little one?”

Her agreement verged on a moan. “You two look so good.”

Paul’s mouth quirked into a smile. He hooked an arm low around Lizzie’s back. The man seemed to like her ass, from the way he palmed it. “Feels good too.”

Dima licked his bottom lip. He took a kiss from Lizzie. She and Paul both tasted of screwdrivers, yes, but different underneath. Something unique. His Lizzie. He could quickly become addicted to her taste.

There was no such thing as getting his fill, but after a moment, he pulled back and nudged her chin toward Paul. “Kiss him.”

Her hand snuck under the hem of Dima’s shirt to clutch at his waist, even as she stretched up on her toes toward the other man. Dima slipped behind her, filling his hands with her sleek body.

Christ, he loved her curves, but even more he loved that they were underlain with refined muscles—a testament to her hard work. Her dedication and ambition. He stroked firmly up her sides, all the way to her underarms. She shook lightly against Paul, although it was nothing compared to the way she lifted on her toes when Dima cupped her breasts.

Perky, full and exactly the right shape.

He thumbed the undersides of her tits. In the delicate hollow of her temple, her pulse throbbed beneath his lips. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time tending to her breasts last night. Hadn’t had the opportunity, which was a damn shame.

Even better, his knuckles brushed against Paul’s chest. Every motion that layered pleasure over Lizzie extended to Paul.

Petting down over her waist, he found where Paul’s hands looped around her hips. Dima circled those thick, strong wrists. The contrasts were amazing. Lizzie’s tender throat under his mouth. Paul’s wrists in his hands. Both of them waiting for his choices, his control.

Fuck, it was good.

He slipped his fingers under Lizzie’s hem. Slowly, he pulled the dress up until she was forced to stop kissing Paul and lift her arms. Dima stripped off the tiny swath of satin.

When she dropped her head back to rest on his shoulder, she wore a sultry smile and wicked underwear. The lingerie was dark blue with black lace overlay, showing off her breasts and her ass in a way that tightened his balls. He spread his fingers wide over her flat stomach, before tracing the faint line down the center.

“What do you think?” He nestled his mouth against her soft hair but slanted his gaze toward Paul. “Luscious, isn’t she?”

Paul’s eyes sparked brighter and brighter. He palmed her waist, brushed touches over her ribs. “Luscious is the word.” His drawl had thickened. “I want to say something greedy.”

She moaned, smiled. “I’d like it if you did.”

“I can’t wait to lick you.”

Dima pressed his forehead against Lizzie’s nape, groaned there ever so softly. Her shiver was the response he hadn’t known he wanted. Had either of them been out of step in that intimate, untried situation, they’d have seen it. Dance and seduction were twined together throughout human history. He and Lizzie were never out of step when they danced.

“I like the sound of that.” She rolled up on her toes, reaching back to loop an arm around Dima’s neck. Paul she caught by the belt buckle and pulled him forward. “Not fair that I’m the only one naked.”

“You’re not quite naked. And you are right that it’s not fair.” Dima couldn’t help but taste her skin. He opened his mouth over the top of her shoulder and nibbled. Harder. “You like it anyway, don’t you?”

Her entire body trembled. So did Paul’s. Dima’s mouth went dry on a rush of possibilities, only to be immediately flooded with moisture. The smoldering passion he found in Paul’s eyes suggested so many possibilities. Had Dima wanted to voice something greedy, it would be to suck Paul’s cock. He couldn’t be sure that would happen tonight.

In the meantime, there were other choices.

He grasped Lizzie’s hips and gently pushed her forward. “Sit, little one.”

Her eyes went dark, even as her mouth opened as if she’d protest. She nodded. With a hand on Paul’s shoulder, Dima led the man behind her.

She sank to the edge of the couch and looked up at them. Still wearing wicked black heels, she made a pretty, pretty picture. Her pink tongue licked her bottom lip even as she carefully folded her hands on her knees.

“Paul,” Dima said, his voice sounding pretty damn graveled. “Strip.”

The sexy stud laughed. In the otherwise quiet room, the sound filled Dima’s chest. “When y’all said to let you lead, you meant it, didn’t you?”

Dima forced his shoulders to loosen. If Paul bucked his choices, there wasn’t much he could do. They still had so many tests to pass, while enjoying the thrill of each one. “I’m accustomed to it.”

Lizzie reached out to touch them both at the same time, running her fingers up the inside of their thighs. Dima clamped down his bone-deep reaction.

“Please.” She wasn’t begging, not quite, but the entreaty was sweet. “Paul, I’d like to see you. I didn’t get much of a chance last night.”

That was enough for him, of course. Dima had yet to meet the man who could withstand Lizzie when she set her mind on something. Paul quickly stripped his gray Henley to reveal a lean torso carved with muscle.

Dima missed watching Paul push down his jeans because he was pulling off his own shirt. The rewarding shock of seeing Paul’s naked body all at once was gut-clenching. His cock was damned good. Thick as hell. Patterned with swollen veins and a hefty, slick head. Dima’s own dick swelled in appreciation. He eagerly kicked off his pants. The three of them had tripped over, and there was no holding back.

Stepping nearer to Paul was his only warning. The man didn’t shrink away, only darted his gaze between Dima and Lizzie.

Wrapping his hand around Paul’s neck, Dima took a kiss, this one hard and sharp. Lips bruised against teeth. Groping down, he found Lizzie’s soft hair and wove his fingers deep. He wouldn’t risk her straying too far.

Pulling back was harder than he expected. Paul tasted so damned good, even with the layer of bitter vodka. When Dima leaned down to kiss Lizzie, he found a missing puzzle piece. She was simply
right
. That hadn’t been what he had in mind. He’d wanted the distractions to keep coming, keep him from looking too hard at how his feelings for her were changing—so quickly, so surprisingly.

He didn’t like surprises.

Fending them off was easy when he could stand and touch Paul once again. He took the man’s cock in hand.

Paul’s eyes rolled shut, his chin dropping low. A harsh shudder shot through the man’s chest. He didn’t pull away. Instead, hot and sleek together, his cock twitched. A quiet rumble rolled up from his chest. Red colored his cheekbones.

Dima held back his smile and the rush of
win
that loosened his bones. His body throbbed with wanting them both. He ground his palm over his own shaft, trying to push down the surge of anticipation. “Our friend has a lovely cock, doesn’t he, little one?”

Lizzie licked her lips. “He does.”

“Did it feel as good as it looks?”

Her pinching grip on his thigh intensified. “God, yes. So good inside me.”

He roughly scrubbed his thumb down Lizzie’s face to her mouth. Outlined her lips. Spread gloss and her own moisture down her chin. Just a little less perfect. He liked that he could do that to her. That she’d let him.

“And taste? Did you get a chance to taste him?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said with a softness that had nothing to do with shyness.

He stroked Paul’s cock, tugging and jerking. “I think you need to fix that.” His gaze flicked up to where Paul’s eyes were barely open. “Don’t you agree? She needs to suck both of us.”

Paul pressed his lips together. His mouth was surprisingly pale amid such vibrant coloring, but still delectable. His nostrils flared on a deep inhale. “You’re downright cracked if you think I’m gonna argue with that. My cock. Your dick. Her mouth?
Yes
.”

Chapter Eleven

The night before, Lizzie hadn’t wanted to compare her lovers, but it was impossible when faced with them both. Paul was golden sunlight and bulky, working man’s muscles. Dima was dark and smoldering with a dancer’s defined grace. Both sported long, thick erections, distinguished by Dima’s naturally duskier skin tone.

Lizzie took a deep breath and slid her hands up their thighs, one each, needing to touch, to get it into her brain that what she saw was real. Her feast to enjoy. Strong thighs, taut buttocks, flat, carved abdomens—she grabbed a little sample of each. Trailing her fingers down their tummies, she smiled at the arrowed line of hair that flared toward Paul’s groin. Dima had waxed his chest for competition since he was seventeen, all sleek and smooth skin.

Their breathing did crazy things to her heartbeat. She couldn’t hear over the pulse of blood in her ears—a pulse that was matched by the veins throbbing along their cocks.

She took each in hand, gratified by Dima’s relaxed exhale and Paul’s quiet gasp. So different in how they approached pleasure. Although Lizzie suspected his nervousness on an instinctual level, Dima acted as if his enjoyment was guaranteed. Always so quietly arrogant. Paul, by contrast, gave off a steady vibe of
good God, how did I get here?

That meant she wanted to start with him first. Although she worked both using slow, steady strokes, she let Paul have her mouth. He tasted saltier than Dima had last night and smelled faintly of his own distinct musk, but that only edged her curiosity. She was eager for all that made them different.