CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LIAM
I am spellbound by Viktoriya’s eyes, the way she watches me as her lips roll over my organ, the powerful suction action that follows. I tilt my hips and push further into her mouth. She lets her lips rise just enough so that her teeth graze across the top of my shaft. A burning shot of arousal shoots right to the tender tip of my cock.
God, I want her so badly. I want to bury myself so deep inside her, but she won’t allow me, holding me firm in position with her hand and mouth.
She pumps me harder, has all the control in this situation. The hot water on my skin, the velvety inside of her mouth—I won’t be able to hold off for much longer. If Paul walks in now he’s going to get the shock of his fucking life.
My cock pops out glistening from Viktoriya’s mouth. She pumps me over her cheek, her golden eyes turned upwards, watching me, her raven hair a single arrowhead down her back.
Her tongue comes out and licks upwards against my balls. She gently sucks them into her mouth, rolling them around inside the warm cavern, letting them sit on the spongey surface of her tongue while I buck and grimace.
I’m doing everything to remain quiet, but this is turning me on too much. I groan aloud, my voice lost against the streaming shower.
She takes me back inside her mouth and I hump lightly against the ripples on the inside of her cheek.
The sensation and need build, pulling at my core.
I can feel her jaw moving, opening up as she takes my length right down her throat. She keeps going until she’s swallowed all of me, her lips clenched around the root of my cock.
I no longer care about Paul waking up, or how Viktoriya even got here. All I want is to get off.
I buck harder against her, groaning for release.
I hold her hair with one hand, forced to steady myself against the glass with the other knowing I’m beyond the point of return.
She knows I’m close, but she refuses to break eye contact, jerking and sucking me harder and faster, growing completely wild.
“I’m coming,” I announce.
I expect her to pull away, but her lips remained glued to my cock.
I grunt and release, pumping fiercely into her mouth. She swallows fast, the muscles in her throat constricting against me as she takes my load.
Finally, she pulls away, gasping and flushed, a pearl of cum on her parted lips. She licks it away, my cock falling from her hand.
I can barely stand as she rises and kisses me, the salty aftermath of my desire still on her lips, her eyes hypnotic.
“Now,” she says, “do you feel better?”
FOURTEEN DAYS LATER
I came to the Winter Games for Olympic Gold. I wasn’t expecting to find love along the way, but Viktoriya has consumed me—completely taken over my body and soul. Even now, walking to the gym at 2AM, I’m fucking floating. Given how she performs on the ice, I should have expected nothing less in the bedroom. If medals were being handed out for sexual prowess, she’d take gold hands down. Her stamina, her flexibility… She’s my match in every way.
It’s more than the sex, though, incredible as it is. When I’m with Viktoriya, I’m empowered. I want to be my best. I want to be better, and I know I can. I’m not imagining it. She makes me feel that way.
Professionally, in between our sexual escapades, we’re kicking ass. My team’s into the final with Russia. I’m looking forward to crushing Bogdan’s bitches. Viktoriya and Daniel, too, are flying high, sailing into the figure-skating pairs final with ease. Watching her on the ice, I’m spellbound. She deserves all this success and more.
I’m grinning ear to ear as I enter the small gym at the bottom of our apartment block. Most athletes are in bed by nine, but I’ve always been a night owl. As I expect, the gym’s dead quiet.
I toss my towel over a bench and select a set of dumbbells, curling my biceps as I watch myself in the mirror. Sure, it’s a little vain, but given the work I’ve put into this body, I think it’s more than justified. Besides, it helps me improve my technique and posture.
After four sets of reps I’ve started to build up a sweat, the ache extending to my pelvis thanks to tonight’s other nocturnal activities. Soon we’re going to run out of places to hide.
I smile at myself in the mirror. You’re in deep, brother. You’re in deep and you know it.
I see the door to the gym open in the mirror, a group of jumpsuit-wearing Russians entering. And—surprise, fucking surprise—it’s Bogdan and his boys.
I keep curling, smiling as they come around in front of me. I notice they’ve brought their hockey sticks, but I won’t let these cocksuckers intimidate me. “Look, guys,” I start, “I appreciate the offer to join in your late-night gang bang, but I’m afraid I don’t swing that way.”
Bogdan laughs and crouches down in front of me. “Oh, I know, Yankee. I’ve seen you swing before.”
If he’s referring to our meet-and-greet back in Seoul, I’d happily provide him with a five-finger update, wipe that dirty fucking smirk off his ugly fucking face.
I place the dumbbells down, leaning forward to speak. “Did you come down here to talk about my dick or you got something else to say?”
Bogdan looks to the others. They’re standing there like the East Block Backstreet Boys. He says something in Russian, which elicits a hearty laugh. One of his cronies hands him a hockey stick. I can’t imagine it’s for a midnight practice session.
Bogdan chews on his tongue. “I thought I was clear, Yankee.”
I cup my ear. “About what? I don’t speak in Russian riddles.”
Bogdan nods. “Okay. I’ll make it clearer given you’re so… simple. I told you to stay away from her, and what do you do? You fuck her, fuck with your filthy American cock.”
“Ah,” I nod back in understanding, “so you’re upset because I’m getting some and you’re not?” I jerk my head to the others. “You’ve got plenty of pretty boys to choose from.”
Bogdan smiles. “Oh, I’m going to fuck someone tonight alright.”
He whips the stick into my ribs hard, too fast to block.
I wince and draw back, but the next blow manages to knock me off the bench altogether. It hurts like a motherfucker.
I look to the roof for the security camera, but one of Bogdan’s boys is covering it with his hand.
Bogdan laughs, standing and gripping the stick, testing his swing. “No one to help you, Yankee. You can scream like a little girl if you want. We understand.”
I laugh. “You are fucking dead. You know that?”
He brings the stick down hard on my knee. “I’m sorry?”
I bring my hands to it, grunting in agony. The fucker’s got a decent slap shot if nothing else.
This is turning into a problem, and fast. I can’t take an injury right now, not before the final.
I go to grab a dumbbell, but Bogdan kicks it away before I get to it, striking me again in the same knee.
“Fuck you!” I shout, loud enough to be heard outside the room.
He just keeps laughing. “That’s the spirit, Yankee!”
The next blow does it, sending a hot bolt of pain shooting up my leg.
I shake my head, sweating hard. “You’re going to pay for this.”
Bogdan looks to the others. “No, you’re going to pay for this, Yankee… with gold.”
“Uh,” I grunt again, as he strikes me harder still, my knee nothing but a hash of pain and torment. “Fuck. You!” I shout, spittle flying from my mouth.
I brace myself for another blow, have no idea how long they’re going to keep this up. I’ve taken beatings before, but they weren’t from a soviet block of concrete like this asshole.
Bogdan spits down at me, crouching and bringing his mouth close to my ear. “You stay away from her, Yankee, or next time I use this on your head, huh?”
I’m in too much pain to reply as they leave, herding themselves through the door. Bogdan is last to leave, a wide, knowing grin tearing his face in two.
*
Coach shakes his head at me on the table. “It’s fucking three AM and I’m being dragged out of bed to learn my star asset’s been taken out of the game.” He looks at my knee, already black and blue with bruising. “How did you say this happened again?”
“I fell down the stairs.”
The team nurse prepares a needle on the other side of the table, looking as pleased as Coach to be up at this hour.
Coach stares up at the medical-center ceiling, breathing out. “They’ve got elevators here, you know. You sure there’s not something you want to tell me, because you’ve got a habit of drawing unwanted attention, McCallum, and I’ve heard the rumors.”
I play dumb. “Rumors?”
“You and the Russian girl. It’s a dangerous game.”
I stare at the ceiling myself. “It’s not like I’m trying to smuggle her across the border.”
Coach shakes his head, crossing his arms in front of himself. “What the hell am I going to do without you on the ice? Paul can’t cut it as captain. We’re fucked.”
“I can play,” I reply.
Coach laughs. “With that cantaloupe you’re calling a knee? I don’t think so.”
As if to prove the point, I sit up and swing myself off the bed. I stand, almost collapse doing so, but pasting on the best smile I can even though my entire lower half is burning like hellfire. “See?”
Coach doesn’t look convinced. “You’re going to be the end of me, kid. You really are.”