Chapter 11

11

Dmitri

L eah looks up sharply at the mention of Gage’s name. “What is it?”

I tug the underwear from my pocket.

Her breath hitches. “Tell me those aren’t what I think they are.”

I dangle them from my fingers. “Gage had them. He washed them, wanted me to return them to you. I thought of throwing them away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

A thousand reasons knock through my brain. None of them make sense. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, give me the damn underwear.” She scoots her blanket off my side of the couch, inviting me to sit down.

I ignore the couch, and I don’t hand her the panties.

“Dmitri? I can’t believe I have to say this out loud, again , but give me my underwear.”

I twirl them around my finger. “Come and get them.”

She lets out a single, incredulous laugh. “Oh, it’s on .”

Then, she leaps at me.

I hold the underwear up high. She tries to climb me like she’s a fucking monkey or something. She dangles from my shoulders, wraps her legs around me, tries to hoist herself up to the ceiling where I’m holding her panties hostage.

“You—are—such—an—asshole.” She makes another desperate leap.

She slides down my body, tries to jump again. I’m not expecting it and we start to fall.

I catch my balance and hers, but my heart pounds. I hold her close in my arms, my free hand resting on her hips.

She has to notice how hard I am against her.

“Now you’ve done it,” I say.

“Done what?”

“You want your panties back, little girl?” I use Gage’s pet name for her—it falls naturally from my lips.

“Yes.” She makes another wild reach for them, pressing against me and laughing.

When her blue gaze crashes into mine, her laughter stops. Her pupils dilate. Her plump lips part on an exhale.

My voice dips low. I can’t stop staring at her lips. “Are you sure you want them?”

She nods. Mouths the word yes .

I take her chin in my free hand. “Then open wide.”

“What?”

I lower my voice even more. It’s subterranean, burning like the earth’s core. This is where the darkness comes in, the part of me I keep on a tight leash. “You heard me.”

She blinks those beautiful baby blues. Her body goes soft against mine, pliant, and she parts her lips.

Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I slowly feed the fabric into her mouth.

When she starts to close her eyes, I shake my head.

“Eye contact, baby girl.”

She makes a soft, desperate sound in the back of her throat.

“Did you like that power exchange at the club?” I ask.

She nods.

“Me too. We’re going to do that again, but different. Sit down, fold your hands over your lap.”

She quickly complies.

I sit next to her and unpause Academy of Ghosts .

She shoots me a questioning look.

Rather than explain, I say, “Your mouth is full, so I won’t hear your safe word. Tap my leg once if you want me to check in. Tap it twice if you want to stop entirely. I want to do breath play with you.”

Her blue eyes go wide. Surprise? Fear?

I trace her lips around the fabric. “It’s a little game of trust.”

I pause, waiting for a leg tap, but she only grins at me despite the panties in her mouth. She trusts me. I vow to myself, right here and now, that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her trust.

“Watch the show,” I say.

She directs her gaze to the screen. She’s nearing the end of Season One already.

“You’ve been watching this without me,” I say in mock disappointment.

She makes a noise that sounds like sorry .

I trace her chin, and her lips beneath where the silky fabric juts past. “Do you have a heart condition I don’t know about? Any other health issues that might be bad for breath play?”

“No,” she mumbles, shaking her head.

“Good.” I tap the tip of her nose. “Take a little breath, baby.”

As soon as she breathes in, I cover her nose and mouth with my hand.

She looks at me, but I use my free hand to point to the TV. “You should try to enjoy the show. This is a good part.”

She obeys, her head swiveling back to the screen. She keeps stealing peeks at me from the corner of her eye. I don’t actually expect her to watch TV right now. Instructing her to do so is part of the control I exert.

I search her face for signs of distress. She’s calm, though. In my head, I count to fifteen. Once I reach it, I remove my hand from her nose and mouth. I stroke her cheeks.

The lights from the TV flicker over her face in the otherwise dark room.

“Another deep breath for me,” I say. “Keep watching your show.”

With one hand wrapped over her nose and mouth, I use the other to touch her. I unclasp her barrette so I can run my fingers through her hair. I massage her scalp, stroke the fragile shells of her ears, trace the top of the rose and butterfly tattoo on her back where it shows above her shirt.

The power that I hold is heady.

It makes me feel breathless, just like her.

My grandfather’s voice sounds in my head. You’re a monster, Dmitri. If I am, so are you. It’s in your blood.

I shove the memory away, put the monster in its cage. I’m playing with Leah, not hurting her.

My dick is hard in my pants. I shift slightly to the side, trying to give myself more room.

When I let go of Leah’s face, she exhales heavily and sucks in a new breath.

“Doing okay, little girl?”

She nods.

Over and over again, I cut off her air. Each time, I touch her with my free hand, growing bolder and bolder. Soon, I’m sliding down the sleeve of her shirt to finger the soft skin of her shoulder. I can’t resist pressing a kiss to that spot. She shivers.

I shouldn’t do any of this, but I can’t stop. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

All I know is Leah.

Leah

I’m high. Floating. He is in charge of my most basic human need—air. I’ve relinquished everything to him. I can’t think of anyone I would trust more.

This is so dangerous. I know I have a habit of choosing the wrong guys to trust. Mick and the guys before him, every single one was a walking red flag.

I can’t quit, though.

I don’t even want to quit. Like the clichéd moth to the flame, I only want to flutter closer.

I mindlessly watch the teenage drama unfolding on the TV screen, colors and faces blurring together. I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about the man next to me. About how turned on I am. About how I want to climb into his lap and grind like I did with Gage, while Dmitri watched.

The next time Dmitri covers my nose and mouth, I sink into the feeling of not having any control. All the power is his. This can’t be healthy, allowing someone else to decide whether I breathe or not.

But I don’t fucking care.

Arousal pools in my lower belly, throbbing and insistent. I want more. I need more. And him, specifically. This man I’ve always looked up to. The one I would trust, one hundred percent, not to hurt me.

His hand smells clean. His gray eyes are focused on me—only me. I am the center of his world right now, and I’d give anything to be closer to him.

When he lets go and strokes my face, I can’t take it anymore. I turn to him. “I?—”

I can’t talk—the panties are still in my mouth, soaked from my saliva.

He pulls them free. “Are you okay, Leah?”

“Yes, I—I need—” I suck in a deep breath. Reaching over, I set my hand on his knee, feel his muscles through his jeans. He doesn’t reject my touch. It gives me courage.

I twist to the side, stroke the strong line of his jaw, and tug him toward me for a kiss.

His lips are soft yet firm. They flutter against mine like a butterfly’s wings before he locks his mouth against mine.

The kiss is a claim. A pronouncement. You are mine, it says. I am yours .

He sweeps his tongue over the seam of my lips. I part them, inviting him in.

He tastes fresh and clean, like mint. I tease his tongue with mine, remembering how I sucked another, larger part of him at the club.

More, more . I need more.

I break the kiss but keep my hand on his face. “I need you.”

Hesitance flashes in his gray eyes. But it’s brief, quickly replaced with determination.

“To be clear,” he says, his voice raspy and low, “how far do you want to go? What do you want, Leah?”

“Everything,” I say, unable to keep the high note of need from my voice. “ Please .”

He leans over, lowering me to lie back on the couch. “You sure about this, Leah?”

“So sure,” I say.

“You want me to fuck you?”

I’ll die if he doesn’t. “Yes.”

He runs his hands beneath my shirt, touching my bare skin. I’m not wearing a bra, but he doesn’t go straight for my boobs—he caresses the sensitive skin beneath them, his fingertips hot and searching.

He stares into my eyes. “I’ve been thinking about this since the auction.”

“Me, too.” Before the auction, really.

And it’s finally freaking happening.

Is this a dream? I tilt my head toward him, hoping he’ll kiss me again.

He groans into my mouth, grinds against my legs. His tongue tangles with mine. I lift the hem of his tee, my fingers sliding along his heated skin.

“Clothes off?” I suggest.

He nods, tearing himself away from me. He reaches for my shirt at the same time I reach for my pants, and our arms tangle at cross-purposes. Laughing, I lift up my arms and let him have his way.

As soon as my shirt is up and over my head, he pauses. His eyes are the gray of a thunderstorm as he looks at my naked chest.

“I didn’t say this the other night,” he says, his voice reverent, “but you’re beautiful, Leah. So goddamn fucking sexy, too.”

“Let me look at you?”

I didn’t get to the other night—he kept his clothes on, other than taking his dick out of his pants. Yes, I’ve seen him without a shirt before. He took Danica and me to the pool when we were in high school, and I’d seen him hanging out at his parents’ house without a shirt on.

But this is different.

So very, very different.

He lifts it over his head and tosses it to the side.

I can’t resist—I reach out and run my hands over the ridges of his muscles, the faint dusting of hair on his pecs.

Opening his wallet, he pulls out a condom and sets it on my chest, between my breasts. He takes off his jeans and boxer briefs, then yanks down my pajama pants.

“So. Fucking. Sexy.” He traces the outline of my underwear with his fingertip.

“Please, Dmitri?—”

He huffs out a soft laugh and yanks my panties down. He kneels next to the couch so he can get them over my feet along with my pajama bottoms. He kisses my ankle, my shin, my knee, then my thigh.

“Are you trying to torture me?” I ask.

Kissing a trail toward my inner thigh, he says, “Don’t you want to savor it?”

“Honestly?” I rub his muscular bicep. “No. I want it now.”

“Greedy girl.”

He heaves himself back onto the couch and kneels between my legs. “Put the condom on for me, baby.”

He’s so gloriously naked, I can barely take my eyes off him to manage the condom. But then I do, rolling it over his tip and down the shaft, caressing him as I go.

He sucks in a breath like he’s in pain, but the tortured expression on his face is all pleasure.

I expect him to lie down and start fucking me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he caresses my hips, my waist. He cups my breasts and tugs lightly on my nipples. He’s still drawing this moment out. Still savoring it.

I’m lightheaded with need. I grip his forearms, trying to direct him, but he grips my wrists and presses my hands to the armrest.

“Let me,” he says.

I nod. “Yes.”

He covers my nose and mouth with one hand. His other hand he brings down my center, between my breasts, past my belly button, and to my pussy.

Soft, rippling strokes against my clit grow firmer and harder. It’s like he took lessons from watching me at Low Vice—this is exactly how I would start.

I can’t breathe, and it heightens everything he’s doing. I slide my legs against his, wishing I could pull him into me.

“Goddamn, you’re wet.” He leaves my clit so he can slide a finger inside.

I can’t speak against his hand, but needy sounds come from my throat. Yes, more, yes .

“Need a breath?” he asks.

I don’t, but he lets me go anyway.

“I was okay,” I say.

“Remember, tap me once to slow down, twice to stop.”

“Got it.”

“Going to fuck you now, Leah.”

“Please, yes.”

Instead of lowering himself to me, he lifts me and settles me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. I reach between us and grip his length in my hand.

“Fuck, little girl. Sit on my cock.”

I angle forward and sink onto him. So full. So fucking full. My eyes flutter shut as I take him in, my body molding itself around him.

Perfection.

“Yes,” he says, lifting one of my breasts and sucking the nipple into his mouth.

Sparks of pleasure shoot through me.

He grips my ass with one hand, directing a rhythm that I am all too happy to follow. Every drag over his length drives my euphoria higher.

If I were to stop and think about this, I’d marvel at how I’m having sex with Dmitri. Dmitri . But there’s no room for thought, only feeling.

I put my hands on his shoulders for more leverage, moving up and down over him. Colorful lights from the TV screen illuminate the back of the living room and play over Dmitri’s handsome face and muscles.

“Fuck, you feel so good, little girl.” He kisses my neck and gives my ass a little spank. “Keep fucking me, yeah, like that.”

As if I could stop. This is too amazing, too perfect. We continue to move together, our skin growing damp with sweat, the scent of our arousal mingling in the air around us.

“Just like that,” Dmitri says. “Yeah, Leah. Good job, you take me so well, like you’re fucking made for me. Fuck.”

I revel in his praise, lifting up and down. Leaning forward, I kiss him, tangling my tongue with his.

It’s so good. I didn’t know it could be so good.

He pulls back from our kiss, looking dazed. “Trust me?”

“I’ve always trusted you.”

“Good girl.” He grips my neck with his big hand, squeezing gently.

Yes, yes, yes. I can still breathe, but less easily. His control and my lack of air heighten everything. Every lift and fall of my hips, every brush of his thumb against my clit.

I’m so close, so close.

His gaze is locked on mine, those stormy eyes intense. “Better come soon, little girl.”

My movements grow erratic, jumbled. My thighs burn with fatigue.

“Come for me.” Dmitri gasps out the words. “Fucking come , Leah.”

An explosive surge of pleasure lashes through my limbs, overtaking me. I cry out with the force of it, my body shuddering.

“Fuck—yes!” Dmitri shouts, banding his arms around me and holding me tight, speared on his cock as far down as I can go.

The pulse of his release is rhythmic, matching my own aftershocks, and we pant in each other’s arms.

Dmitri

Post-nut clarity hits me like a brick to the face.

Stunned, I stare into Leah’s bliss-soaked expression.

What the fuck are we doing? That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my twenty-nine years, and it was with Leah. My little sister’s best friend.

“I gotta take care of the condom.” I ease Leah from my lap.

“Oh.” She blinks in surprise.

“Yeah. Sorry.” I stand up and hurry to the bathroom, not looking at her. My feelings are a jumble of lust, panic, tenderness, terror.

I dispose of the condom, then I splash water on my face. I watch the water flow down the beige hollow of the bathroom sink. How is gravity even working right now? It shouldn’t be possible.

Because Leah rocked my world. My world is officially rocked off its axis and spinning into the ever-expanding universe.

When I return, her blissful expression has faded into a mask of indifference. She has her shirt and underwear on again.

I tug on my pants and sit next to her. “Come here, Leah.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“We had a power exchange. Let me hold you.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Is this the aftercare thing again?”

“Get over here.” I hold out my arm to invite her closer.

She scoots over to me with a sigh. “Are you happy now?”

Am I…happy? This young woman gave me the ultimate gift of her trust. I turned around and choked her.

If it hadn’t been Leah, if it had been a woman I met at Low Vice, would I feel better about it? Shit, I don’t know. Yeah. I’ve done things like this before. Never had any real problem with it, no regrets.

But this is Leah . My sister’s best friend. I’m supposed to take care of her and keep her safe, not bring her further into my kinky sphere.

“So you’re not happy.” Her voice is glum.

“No, I’m happy, I’m just. Fuck. I don’t know.” I adjust my arm around her, tightening the layer of protection. No matter what, she needs to know how much I care. “I shouldn’t have hurt you, that’s all.”

“Don’t baby me.” She pokes me in the stomach. “You do realize that I was here, present in the moment with you, right? And you gave me a way to stop the action at any time? And what we did—I wanted that? Enthusiastic consent—I gave it in spades.”

“It’s that—you’re you. I should be protecting you, not preying on you.”

“Wait.” She starts to pull away, voice full of horror. “Did you not want to have sex with me?”

“I wanted it!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice, so in a quieter tone, I add, “You were great. What we did, it felt really good to me. Thank you for trusting me.”

She shakes her head. “Everything’s going to be weird now, isn’t it?”

“No,” I lie. Because we can’t do this. We can’t tell Danica. I overstepped all the boundaries, smashed right past them and choked Leah while she rode my dick. “It’s fine, it’s great.”

“You don’t have to freak out about it.”

I frown. “I’m not freaking out.”

“Yeah. You are.”

“Maybe a little.” I clear my throat and focus on the blank TV screen. At some point, she must have turned off the show. “We shouldn’t do that again. Too messy. Emotionally, I mean. With Danica, and…”

She goes rigid against my side. “So that’s that, then.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t know what else to say. Gage Fucking Jannik set me up. He sent me home with her panties. He knew what was going to happen—or at least he had to guess. A little souvenir of the auction. I leaped off the deep end. I embraced the motherfucking depths of my desires and I’m already turning it into shit and hurting Leah in the process. I can’t be in a relationship with her. Does she want a relationship?

Her head of brown hair is pressed against my shoulder. Like she belongs here. With me.

“Did you…did you want more?” I ask.

“You say that like it’s an option, but your tone tells a different story.” She tries to tug away from my hold.

I don’t let her go. “I’m attracted to you, but I don’t want sex to get in the way of our friendship.”

“You aren’t willing to try?”

The words stick in my throat. I don’t fucking deserve someone as nice as her, first of all. And Danica would kill me. But our chemistry. The affection I feel for her, the tenderness that makes my chest feel like it’s going to burst….

“Yeah. I can hear your non-answer loud and clear.” Her voice carries an undercurrent of electricity. “Can we be done with aftercare now?”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes.”

This time when she pulls away, I let her go. I stand and collect my shirt from where it landed on the coffee table.

Leah lets out a frustrated sigh as she flops down onto the couch, taking up the entire length.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Sure.” She gives me an unconvincing thumb’s up. “Goodnight.”

I’m dismissed.

I slink off to my bedroom, feeling like the biggest asshole in the history of assholes.

My choice, right?

Then why do I feel like I tore out my own heart, Temple of Doom -style?