Page 18 of Heated Rivalry 1
Dizzy with sensation and lust, Shane lightly pushed on Rozanov’s shoulder until he was flat on his back. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Shane slid down his body and took his cock into his mouth again. He wasn’t any surer of his abilities, but he knew what he wanted. He wanted to get Rozanov off. He wanted to take him apart.
He let his jaw slacken and took Rozanov as deep as he could. He was nervous about biting him by accident, so he kept his mouth open wider than was probably necessary and used a lot of tongue. It was sloppy and very wet, but he could hear the encouraging sounds Rozanov was making. When Shane turned his eyes up, he could see Rozanov had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching him give his first blow job with great interest.
Shane wrapped a hand around the base of Rozanov’s cock and stroked up to meet his mouth. When Rozanov arched and moaned, Shane repeated it, stroking him hard and fast.
“Hollander...fuck.” Rozanov switched to Russian, and Shane didn’t know what he was saying, but he figured he should probably get out of the way because he wasn’t sure he was ready to take a load in his mouth.
He pulled off just in time. Rozanov put his own hand on his dick to replace Shane’s mouth and stroked himself roughly until his release fell all over his own stomach.
Shane stared, dumbfounded. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
Rozanov flopped back on the bed, breathing hard. “Not bad, Hollander,” he said.
Shane was still staring at the mess on Rozanov’s stomach. His own cock was like iron. He thought about stroking himself until he came on Rozanov. He thought about Rozanov putting his mouth on him...
“Okay. Well. Good night,” Rozanov said, and moved to get up.
Shane’s mouth dropped open, and he was about to be furious when he noticed the playful, crooked grin.
“Fuck you,” Shane said.
“Did you need something?” Rozanov asked innocently.
Shane glared at him. Rozanov chuckled and grabbed some tissues from the nightstand so he could wipe his stomach off a bit.
“Lie down,” Rozanov instructed.
Shane did. Rozanov crawled on top of him and kissed him.
“You think I’m an asshole,” Rozanov said.
“Youarean asshole.”
“I would not leave you like that.”
“No?”
He kissed him again. “No.”
As they kissed, Rozanov reached a hand down and gripped Shane’s cock. Shane gasped into his mouth.
“Let me show you,” Rozanov murmured, “how to do this.”
He kissed his way down Shane’s body, which felt so good that Shane forgot to be insulted. When he reached Shane’s cock, Rozanov greeted it with a long, slow lick with the entire surface of his tongue, like it was a fucking ice-cream cone or something.
“Jesus.” Shane shuddered.
Rozanov licked and sucked the head, tonguing the slit and pushing Shane dangerously close to the edge already. He gripped the hotel bed comforter and tried to hold on. Rozanov was shockingly good at this. How many fucking times had he met up with his coach’s son? Shane felt like he should be paying attention—maybe taking notes—but his brain had left the room.
Shane reached down to run his fingers through the golden-brown curls of Rozanov’s hair. He dragged his fingers down over the stubble on his cheek, the sharp line of his jaw. Shane had enjoyed watching some truly hot girls sucking him off in the past, but this was beyond anything he had ever experienced before. Watching this big, beautiful man, who knew exactly what to do with his tongue and lips and—god, histeeth—work him like there would be a medal awarded for performance...
“Ah, god. Rozanov! I’m gonna...”
He expected Rozanov to get the hell out of the way, but instead he sucked him harder and Shane emptied himself into his mouth.
A stream of nonsense fell out of Shane’s mouth. “Holy shit. I’m sorry. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Fuck. Wow. God.”
Rozanov pulled off, not at all hurried, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He laughed at Shane’s babbling. “Sorry? Why sorry?”
