Page 61 of Shadow Waltz
But Dmitri wasn’t done teasing. He kept his cock pressed in the cleft of my ass, rutting against me, biting my neck, one hand holding me by the nape like he owned me. The other hand roamed, pinching my nipples, grabbing handfuls of my hair, keeping me at the very edge of too much.
His voice was a dangerous promise against my ear. “You want it so bad, you’ll do anything, yes? Anything for me?” His cock was slippery with spit and precome, sliding between my cheeks, pressing against my hole without ever entering.
I whimpered, pushing back, but Dmitri gripped my throat, holding me there, making me feel small and breakable. “Not yet, pet. I want you needy. I want you shaking for me.”
He bent down, biting my shoulder hard enough to leave marks, then spun me to face him, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. He licked a stripe up my chest, tongue dragging over my nipple before biting it, sucking hard. “Youtaste good everywhere,” he muttered, voice thick. “You are hungry little animal.”
I was panting, cock leaking, body burning. My survival instincts should have told me to run, to beg him to stop. Instead, I arched into every touch, desperate for more.
He let me go, suddenly. “Come here,” he ordered, grabbing my hips and lifting me as if I weighed nothing. I gasped as he slung me over his shoulder, water running in rivers down my body, my cock brushing his bare chest as he carried me out of the shower.
He slapped my ass, hard, leaving his handprint. “Good boy. Now, I fuck you like you deserve.”
Dmitri kicked open the door, moving us into the bedroom—his body all muscle and power, not breaking a sweat. He dropped me onto the bed, manhandling me onto my back. The sheets were cool against my wet skin. The lights were on, and I could see the faint glint of another camera in the ceiling corner.
I let my gaze linger on it a moment, then looked away, letting instinct take over.
Dmitri loomed over me, hands at my ankles, pushing my legs apart, displaying me for himself, for whoever was watching, for the room. “You are so beautiful like this. Open. Waiting.”
He straddled my waist, cock leaking onto my abs, flexing for the camera, for me. “You want more? You want to be fucked, ruined, shown off? I can give you more, pretty boy. I can make you scream.”
I nodded, eyes wild, breath coming in hot little pants. “Please, Dmitri. Please show me.”
He leaned down, lips at my ear, biting, whispering filth. “I will make you beg in every language you know. I will make you worship every inch of me, and then maybe, if you are good, I let you come.”
His hands explored me everywhere—pinching, slapping, kneading. He bit my throat, my chest, leaving a constellation of bruises. Then he sat back, stroking himself, staring down at me. “You want to suck again, yes? You want my cock down your throat?”
I nodded, but he slapped my cheek with it, marking my face with spit and precome. “Open,” he ordered. “Wider.”
I obeyed, and he fed me his cock, slow, taking his time, rocking in and out of my mouth, letting me choke on it, spit dripping down my chin. He pulled out, smeared his cock over my lips, then pushed it back in, fucking my face while his hands massaged my scalp, holding me in place.
He pulled away with a wet pop, grabbing my chin, making me look up at him. “You are very good at this, pretty boy. But I have friends who want to see for themselves. They want to know if you are as good as I say.”
My stomach dropped, and excitement and fear warred inside me. The bedroom door opened. Two men stepped in—both big, both rough-looking, both with the same cold, appraising hunger in their eyes.
Dmitri grinned, dark and pleased. “This is Maksim and Yuri. You do what they say. You be a good little slut for us, da?”
I swallowed, adrenaline roaring in my ears. I thought about running. But I remembered the cameras, the price of resistance, and my own twisted hunger. I nodded, playing up my own eagerness, giving them the show they wanted.
Dmitri’s friends shared a look over my head, grinning, already half-hard and unashamed. Maksim was the first to move, peeling his shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside to reveal a thick chest scattered with tattoos and scars. He flexed for me, rolling his shoulders, making his pecs jump and laughing when he caught my stare.
Yuri stripped next, slower, almost taunting. He made a show of unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slide off his arms, then hooking his thumbs in his jeans and tugging them down. Both of them were built like fighters, broad and strong, bodies mapped by violence and desire. They stood over me, cocks already out, stroking themselves and making a game of it.
“Look at him,” Yuri said, voice thick with amusement as he raked his gaze over me. “Hungry little thing. Can’t decide who he wants to taste first.”
“Let him taste all of us,” Dmitri replied, tone like steel wrapped in velvet. “Let’s see how good his mouth really is.”
They closed in around me, three bodies, three cocks, each demanding attention. I looked up, licking my lips, making a show for the camera and for them. My mind was whirring, analyzing every movement, every laugh, every flash of teeth—keeping myself safe by being the best toy in the room.
Maksim pushed his jeans down, stepping out of them completely, now gloriously naked and grinning like a wolf. He stroked his cock, head flushed and dripping, and slapped it gently against my cheek. “Open up, pretty boy. You want this, don’t you?”
I opened my mouth, tongue out, letting him slide in, thick and hot, the taste of him flooding my senses. I moaned around him, swirling my tongue, sucking with deliberate, practiced hunger. He groaned, hand fisting in my hair, hips rolling to feed me more.
Beside me, Yuri pressed in, rubbing his cock along my shoulder, his other hand trailing down my back, nails digging into my skin. “Don’t leave me waiting, pet,” he teased, nudging my lips. “Plenty for everyone tonight.”
I switched, mouth still wet from Maksim, taking Yuri into my mouth, sucking hard, using every trick I knew to drive him wild.My hands stroked both men, jerking them off in rhythm, spit running down my chin, making a beautiful mess of myself.
The three of them were laughing, filthy and teasing, all power and heat and sharp hunger. “Such a good little whore,” he purred in my ear, Russian thick and rough. “Taking cock like you were born for it.”