Page 71 of Dance of Defiance
Yeah, no. Those fly out the window when I wake up in the middle of the night from lurid dreams involvingValstroking my cock. Dropping to his knees and looking up at me, wrapping his lips around my swollen dick. Forcingmetomine…
I shiver and swallow.
Yeah, that's a no to low T or my dick not working. Because waking up fromthosedreams, I’m hard enough to bend steel.
…Hard, twitching, and fucking leaking precum to the point where finishing myself off isn’t even an option, it’s fuckingmandatory.
I take another gulp of water and glance at my phone. There’s no notifications on the screen, but I open it and check my messages anyway.
Nothing from him.
Not. At. All.
Fuck.
“You win?”
I startle, then turn with a grin as Stepan walks into the gym at my father’s house.
Yes, I still have my membership at Equilibrium.
No, I haven’t been able to set foot in the place after the events of a few days ago.
“Meh, a draw,” I shrug, nodding at the practice bag. “Motherfucker has a sick left hook.”
“Fucking southpaws,” Stepan grins. “Get you every time.”
Then he frowns. “Don’t you usually work out at that fancy Midtown place? With the hot girls working the front desk and that sweet steam room?”
I swallow uncomfortably. “Uh-huh,” I grunt.
He shrugs. “Nothing against your father’s gym, but?—”
“They’re doing some renovations,” I lie.
“Ahh,” Stepan nods and then clears his throat. “Well, I hate to break things up before the rematch with the southpaw, but your father wants to see you upstairs.”
I catch the t-shirt that Stepan throws at me.
“About?”
“Idon’t know, Roman,” he sighs. “Probably nothing to do with your eventual ascension to the throne, including the seat at theIron Table. I’m sure he just wants to know how your day is going and ask if you caught the Islanders game last night.”
I frown as I tug on the shirt. “Joke's on him. I don’t watch hockey.”
Stepan shakes his head. “Criminal, how America has turned the sons of so many great Russianpakhansoff the glorious sport of ice hockey.”
“It’s boring and cold. If I want to watch fights, I’ll watch boxing, where they actually know how to throw a punch.”
He mutters in Russian. “Boring? Hockey is the sport of warriors. It’s what turns boys into men. It makes you strong! Tough!”
I chuckle. “That’s what football is for, Stepan.”
He dismisses me with a wave. “Bah—American football. No footwork involved, and the game stops every three goddamn seconds.” He grins at me. “Shall I take you to your father now?”
“By all means.”
“We needto move up the timeline.”
