Page 73 of Twisted Little Game

He’s looking over the stall divider at me, his eyes going up and down my body. “You? Take me by surprise?”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “Yes. Me. We can try later, if you want. If we spar, I could get you on the ground.”

“I don’t know why you say things like this.”

“Because it gets you to laugh, and I fucking love that.”

He reaches his hand over the wall and shoves his fingers in my wet hair, ruffling it up and then pulling away.

My cock perks up at his touch, and I don’t bother turning away.

If he wants to keep looking over here at me, I’ll let him.

I know our night in the grass was just a one-time thing, and he was just getting out aggression, forcing me to suck him off as a show of dominance… but I still want his eyes on me.

I reach for my cock and stroke it a couple of times, and when I glance back up at him, I expect him to scowl and turn away.

But he doesn’t.

His eyes linger on my dick, and it amplifies my arousal.

“I’m going to do something about this,” I say, squeezing my base hard. “Giving you fair warning, so don’t get mad at me if you’re the one staring.”

“Don’t do that here,” Roman warns.

I just keep stroking myself, slowly but firmly, holding eye contact and watching him get angry.

“I need to get off.”

He glances toward the entrance. “You’re doing that in a place where guys walk through all the time.”

“So fuck ‘em,” I say with a shrug. “They can watch.”

I lean one hand up on the wall next to me while I keep the other pumping. It’s really helping to have Roman watching me, and even though he keeps glancing around now to check for other people, his eyes always land back on my cock.

“Go faster,” he says.

I purposely slow down my strokes. His eyes flare a little wider and he says a Russian curse under his breath, suddenly taking off and looping around the shower stall.

He steps around to stare directly into my shower stall, towering over my body. His cock is soaking wet and completely hard, too, bouncing in front of him with his footsteps.

“Oh my God,” I mutter as I look at it.

He wastes no time. He closes the distance between us and turns my body around in his arms, so that I’m facing toward the wall and he’s surrounding me from behind.

He envelops me like that, covering my back, his cock pressed up against it as he roughly loops an arm over to my front.

His hand pushes my hand away.

I feel his fingers close around my dick and squeeze me firmly, and when I moan out loud at the sudden contact, he brings the other hand to clamp down over my mouth.

“Come when I say,” he utters in a low voice, right behind my ear. “Don’t draw it out just to fuck with me.”

“Mmh,” I moan against his palm, and he tightens the clasp he has on my mouth.

I look lower to see his tattooed arm pushed over my body and my cock throbs in his hand. His palm is so much bigger than mine, and rougher, too, and the sensation of it on my dick is so fucking good it should be illegal.

His cock mashes up against my lower back as he moves in sure strokes, and he starts to jut his hips forward in rhythm with his strokes. I feel the heavy slap of his sack every time it hits the cleft of my ass and I purposely push back, wanting to make damn sure he feels it, too.