“Well?” Rozanov said. “Well what?” He gestured to the floor. “Are you not going to suck my dick?” Shane’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you! Why don’t you suck mine?” “Hmm.” He traced a finger over Shane’s clenched jaw—so gently it made Shane close his eyes and part his lips involuntarily. “Maybe ask nice.” Shane wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. But instead, to his mortification, he heard himself say, “Please.” Rozanov raised an eyebrow. “You want me to kneel on this dirty bathroom floor? You have to ask nicer than that, Hollander.” “Please,” Shane gritted out. “Get on your knees and suck my
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