Page 21 of Mastered By Desire

Dmitri’s room is small, dominated by the queen-sized bed andthe dresser he had when he lived with his parents—the very one Danica and I outfitted with childproof drawer latches. I smile at the memory. He seems to think he doesn’t deserve my praise, but he had the patience of a saint whenever Danica and I got up to our shenanigans.

His laptop is sitting on the dresser next to a framed photo of him and Danica playing at the beach. An ornate mirror hangs on the wall, clashing with the muted grays and browns of his bedspread, curtains, and area rug. It’s probably a family heirloom.

He’s a tough guy—a bouncer, a protector. But he’s also a sentimental softie.

I hear him moving in the living room, so I grab a pillow and blanket for him. It doesn’t feel right to leave him out there on the couch with nothing.

I stop as soon as I reach the hall. He’s lying down, eyes closed, with his hand rapidly stroking his dick.

Hot. It’s so hot all of a sudden. I think the house is on fire. Of course he doesn’t want a blanket.

I hold still, unable to look away.

He comes quickly, white fluid spurting onto his chiseled stomach as he groans quietly.

If he finds me watching him…I don’t know how he’ll react. This living situation is already weird enough. I have to get myself into the bedroom.

One step back, another one. Thankfully, the doorway is close by, and I duck inside, holding my breath.

No sound comes from the living room. I gently set the blanket and pillow by the door and tiptoe back to Dmitri’s bed.

Dmitri’s bed. I am lying in it wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt, no bra. I just watched him jerk off, and three nights ago I had that beautifully thick cock thrusting into my mouth.

It’s too much. I feel feverish, out of control.

My hand is in my panties before I even realize what I’m doing.

I close my eyes, envisioning his big hand working himself over. Those thick fingers could help me out now—mine aren’t long or thick enough, the angle isn’t right. Since I can’t finger myself the way I want, I focus on my clit and use my other hand to caress my breasts beneath my shirt.

This is frustrating. He’s right out there in the living room. He could help me. If he really wanted to, he could be in here, the bed dipping under his weight as he climbs next to me, nudges my thighs apart with his, and slides home to fill me in the way only he can.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please please please.”

While Dmitri fucks me, Gage would want to watch. He’d stand over the bed, orchestrating everything in that low, rich voice of his.Fuck her harder. Faster. No, slow down. Don’t let her come. Make her beg.

“Please,” I whine.

Watch her face. Good. Leah, be a good girl and get on your knees. Suck my cock while he punishes that wet cunt.

I’m so fucking close. I can’t stand it anymore, I have to let myself come.

But then footsteps sound in the hall. I freeze, one hand in my panties and the other under my shirt.

Maybe he’s just going to the bathroom. Yeah, because he needs to clean off the bucket of come he let loose over his abs. Sure enough, I hear the sink running, and the sound of him brushing his teeth.

The bathroom door opens and his footsteps pause near the bedroom. I peek over at him through half-closed eyes like, no, of course I wasn’t getting myself off in your bed, Dmitri, you’re one of my closest friends, I wouldnever.

“Leah,” he says, his voice husky. “You awake?”

“Yeah?” Guilty guilty guilty, I sound so freaking guilty.

“Is this blanket and pillow for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

I wince. “Everything’s great.”

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