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“Ha ha.”
“Did she pick out the thong, too?”
“As a matter of fact she did.”
“Make that two Maseratis.”
I swatted his perfect little ass, and he spun gracefully and pinned me to the wall, then kissed me, long and deep. When finally he pulled away, he smiled at me and said, “Don’t do that. It turns me on too much.”
“Filing that piece of information away for future reference,” I told him as he towed me down a long hallway.
Finally we reached the obscenely large master bedroom, and went through to a walk-in closet that was nicer than my apartment. Way nicer than my apartment. Bigger, too.
I sat on an upholstered bench in the center of the space and watched as he tossed aside his suit jacket and pulled off his shoes and socks, then grabbed a couple sweat pants and t-shirts from the shelves and set them beside me. “Will you be joining me?” he asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow as he began to unbutton his shirt.
“After you.” I leaned back onto the bench, propping myself up with my hands behind me.
“Ok,” he said, pulling his shirt off and tossing it in a laundry basket. And then he actually blushed as he started on his pants. I beamed at him and shook my head. “What?” he asked.
“You. You’re unbelievably adorable.”
He smiled and clicked his tongue. “You’re just enjoying the fact that this is embarrassing me.”
“A little bit. But only because you’re blushing. You just seem so…so unlike you when you blush.”
He tilted his head at me, which I was beginning to realize was a thing with him. Then he stepped out of his pants and paused with his hands on his narrow hips, amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “Oh? So if that’s unlike me, then what’s like me?”
“Über-confidence.”
“Think so, huh?”
“Please. You’ve set up an entire nightclub where beautiful young men actually line up to worship at the altar of Dmitri Teplov. If that’s not über-confidence, I don’t know what is. And quit stalling. You know I’m expecting you to lose the briefs, too.”
He laughed and said, “So, you want me standing buck-naked before you, while you remain fully clothed?”
“Exactly.” I smiled brightly at him.
“Ok, if that’s what you want.” And he shucked the underwear in one swift, fluid move.
“Wow,” I whispered. “You are absolutely, stunningly gorgeous.” His body was, in a word, perfection, wide shoulders narrowing to slim hips, flawless pale skin contrasting beautifully with the black hair on his head and in a neatly trimmed patch above his thick, impressive cock.
“Thank you,” he said shyly. “I’m glad you like me.” And then he turned his back to me, giving me a look at his firm, sculpted ass.
I got up and stood behind him, taking him in my arms and kissing his shoulder. And I said lightly, “I have absolutely no clue what you’re doing with me, Dmitri. But I intend to enjoy every moment of it before you come to your senses and kick me to the curb.”
“It’s you that’s going to come to your senses, probably any minute now. I really should implement my earlier plan of getting you drunk, just so you forget what a bad idea it is to be with me and stick around a bit longer.”
I ran my hands down his sides and said as I nuzzled his dark hair, “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”
He turned to face me. “As a matter of fact, you do. So how about if you lose the fuck-me-now clothes and join me in our little slumber party?”
That made me laugh. “Slumber party? Is that what we’re doing?”
“Well, not yet. So far, we’re just doing get-Dmitri-naked. The slumber party comes next.” He smiled widely, and I kissed first one dimple and then the other. He laughed at that and said, “That was very Russian of you, by the way.”
“What was?”
“The kiss on both cheeks. My grandma always did that to me.”
I smiled at him. “I was kissing your dimples. They’re far too cute.”
He rolled his eyes, and then pulled my t-shirt over my head before telling me, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “Now you’re the one that’s stalling. Get naked, Mr. Nolan.”
“As you wish, Mr. Teplov.” I quickly shucked my shoes and socks, then unfastened the jeans and shimmied out of them. We both chuckled at this, since they really were far too tight and getting out of them was way less than graceful. And then I yanked the thong off unceremoniously and exclaimed, “Christ, that is such a fucking relief. Why do people wear those bastards?”
Dmitri laughed at my classy move and said, “Because they make you look incredibly fuckable.”
“So if I was wearing a pair of boxers, I wouldn’t look fuckable?”
“You could be wearing a Snuggie and I’d still want to fuck you,” he said, then went to the bench and sat down, crossing his legs. “Ok, my turn to gawk at you.” He winked at me cheerfully and drew a little circle in the air with his index finger. “Spin for me, baby. Slowly.” I’d always thought baby was an insipid pet name, but somehow coming from him, it was cute, endearing.
