Way Off Plan

by Alexa Land

  “Of course,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Goes with the playboy image.”

  “Hey, why not live the stereotype?” I teased.

  “So, the question is, do you want to follow in your car, or ride with me? Because if you ride with me, you’ll be stuck without a vehicle.”

  “But if I bring my car, I’ll miss the chance to ride in a Maserati,” I said with a huge, childish grin.

  He smiled at that, and tossed me his keys. “Why don’t you drive it to my house? I’ll follow in your car, so you’re not left stranded.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “You’d actually let me drive your car?”

  He shrugged and said, “Of course. Give me your keys.”

  I fished them out of the pocket of my hoodie and handed them over. “This is so not a fair trade,” I told him. “And I apologize in advance for making you drive that total piece of shit. Which, by the way, is a loaner. My real car is actually much worse than that.”

  “I like that loaner car,” he told me. “Especially the back seat.” He flashed his dimples, and then told me his address. “Do you think you can find it?”

  I actually already knew exactly where he lived, of course. But I joked, “Probably the biggest house on Nob Hill? Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can find it.”

  “Not the biggest,” he corrected with a grin. “Just one of the biggest.” He leaned over and kissed me, then said, “Ok baby, see you in a bit. And if you decide to take the long way, I understand.” And with that he strolled off in the direction of the crappy green Hyundai.

  “Holy Fuck,” I muttered, walking slowly around the Maserati. It was without a doubt the most beautiful car I’d ever seen. And actually, it suited Dmitri to a T – it was him in sports car form. I unlocked it and slid behind the wheel, and it took me a minute to determine where the key went. When I finally figured it out and the engine roared to life I giggled like a little kid, and cautiously put it in gear.

  It was actually a bit challenging to get out of the tight parking lot, because every time I even grazed the gas pedal, the car wanted to launch itself like a rocket. And once I got it onto the street, it was all I could do to hold it – and myself t – cl back.

  So, ok I had to take the long way. But just by a few extra blocks. What I really wanted to do was take the car out to Highway One and open her up, but I didn’t.

  Just a couple minutes after I should have arrived, I was pulling into the open garage of Dmitri’s palatial house, beside a big Land Rover. The pea green shit machine was parked in the driveway behind the Land Rover, and looked incredibly out of place. I got out of the Maserati and lightly ran a hand over the curve of the roof, then turned to Dmitri with a huge smile.

  He’d stepped into the garage, grinning happily, and hit a button on the wall. The garage door slid shut behind me as I came up to him and kissed him. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “That was epic.”

  I held his keys out to him, and he tilted his head and said with a smile, “Keep it. You’ve gotten more enjoyment out of that car in the past fifteen minutes than I have in the past six months. You should have it.”

  “Don’t tease me like that.” I continued to hold out the keys.

  “I’m not teasing. It’s yours.”

  I stared at him in disbelief, then scooped his hand up and deposited the keys in his palm. “If I thought for a moment you were serious, I’d be concerned for your mental health.”

  He turned and led me into an enormous kitchen, my hand in his, as he said, “I’m perfectly serious, Jamie. Keep it. I like how happy it makes you.”

  I stared at him as I said, “That’s very sweet, Dmitri. But I can’t possibly accept it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? Because it’s too much. Way, way too much. Like totally over the top way, way too much. Thank you, though.”

  He sighed and set the keys on the granite counter, obviously disappointed. “Ok, fine. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Ok.” I smiled at him and pulled him to me, then kissed him before changing the subject. “So now that you have me here, what do you intend to do with me?” That was a question that really should have concerned me – I was now alone with a suspected criminal. But I just couldn’t see this man as a threat. There was no way.

  “Well, first I intend to get you out of those tight jeans.” He grinned as he added, “They’ve got to be uncomfortable as hell, so I’ll lend you some sweats. Then I was thinking we’d have something to eat and maybe watch a movie. And don’t worry, I’m not going to throw myself at you, no matter how much I want to.”

  “Yeah, a gorgeous guy throwing himself at me. That would be a worry,” I joked.

  “You know what I mean. This isn’t all part of some grand scheme to take your virginity.”

  “I’m only a ‘technical virgin.’ As you probably noticed, given tonight’s activities.” I felt incredibly naïve, and could only imagine how I must seem to this man. He had guys falling all over themselves for him, literally standing in line for a shot at being with him. It really made me wonder what the hell he was doing with me, frankly.

  “It’s not a bad thing,” he said gently. “I actually think it’s kind of terrific. And I also think whoever you end up with for your first time is the luckiest son of a bitch on this planet.” He turned from me then and tugged my hand. “Now come on. Let’s get you changed before you pass out from lack of blood flow to your lower extremities.”

  “I want you to know I never dress this way,” I told him as he led me up a back staircase. “This outfit was my friend Jess’s idea. She’s been trying to shove me head-first out into the dating world, and apparently she thought I’d have better luck if I dressed like a slut.”

  “Remind me to thank your friend Jess, because you actually look amazing in that outfit,” Dmitri said, glancing at me with a little sparkle in his eye. “Maybe I should send her a Maserati as a way of thanking her for making you buy those clothes.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Did she pick out the thong, too?”

  “As a matter of fact she did.”

  “Make that two Maseratis.”

  I swatted his perfect little ass, and he spun gracefully and pinned me to the wall, then kissed me, long and deep. When finally he pulled away, he smiled at me and said, “Don’t do that. It turns me on too much.”

  “Filing that piece of information away for future reference,” I told him as he towed me down a long hallway.

  Finally we reached the obscenely large master bedroom, and went through to a walk-in closet that was nicer than my apartment. Way nicer than my apartment. Bigger, too.

  I sat on an upholstered bench in the center of the space and watched as he tossed aside his suit jacket and pulled off his shoes and socks, then grabbed a couple sweat pants and t-shirts from the shelves and set them beside me. “Will you be joining me?” he asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow as he began to unbutton his shirt.

  “After you.” I leaned back onto the bench, propping myself up with my hands behind me.

  “Ok,” he said, pulling his shirt off and tossing it in a laundry basket. And then he actually blushed as he started on his pants. I beamed at him and shook my head. “What?” he asked.

  “You. You’re unbelievably adorable.”

  He smiled and clicked his tongue. “You’re just enjoying the fact that this is embarrassing me.”

  “A little bit. But only because you’re blushing. You just seem so…so unlike you when you blush.”

  He tilted his head at me, which I was beginning to realize was a thing with him. Then he stepped out of his pants and paused with his hands on his narrow hips, amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “Oh? So if that’s unlike me, then what’s like me?”

  “Über-confidence.”

  “Think so, huh?”

  “Please. You’ve set up an entire nightclub where beautiful young men actually line up to worship at the altar of Dmitri Teplov. If that’s not über-confidence, I
don’t know what is. And quit stalling. You know I’m expecting you to lose the briefs, too.”

  He laughed and said, “So, you want me standing buck-naked before you, while you remain fully clothed?”

  “Exactly.” I smiled brightly at him.

  “Ok, if that’s what you want.” And he shucked the underwear in one swift, fluid move.

  “Wow,” I whispered. “You are absolutely, stunningly gorgeous.” His body was, in a word, perfection, wide shoulders narrowing to slim hips, flawless pale skin contrasting beautifully with the black hair on his head and in a neatly trimmed patch above his thick, impressive cock.

  “Thank you,” he said shyly. “I’m glad you like me.” And then he turned his back to me, giving me a look at his firm, sculpted ass.

  I got up and stood behind him, taking him in my arms and kissing his shoulder. And I said lightly, “I have absolutely no clue what you’re doing with me, Dmitri. But I intend to enjoy every moment of it before you come to your senses and kick me to the curb.”

  “It’s you that’s going to come to your senses, probably any minute now. I really should implement my earlier plan of getting you drunk, just so you forget what a bad idea it is to be with me and stick around a bit longer.”

  I ran my hands down his sides and said as I nuzzled his dark hair, “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

  He turned to face me. “As a matter of fact, you do. So how about if you lose the fuck-me-now clothes and join me in our little slumber party?”

  That made me laugh. “Slumber party? Is that what we’re doing?”

  “Well, not yet. So far, we’re just doing get-Dmitri-naked. The slumber party comes next.” He smiled widely, and I kissed first one dimple and then the other. He laughed at that and said, “That was very Russian of you, by the way.”

  “What was?”

  “The kiss on both cheeks. My grandma always did that to me.”

  I smiled at him. “I was kissing your dimples. They’re far too cute.”

  He rolled his eyes, and then pulled my t-shirt over my head before telling me, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “Now you’re the one that’s stalling. Get naked, Mr. Nolan.”

  “As you wish, Mr. Teplov.” I quickly shucked my shoes and socks, then unfastened the jeans and shimmied out of them. We both chuckled at this, since they really were far too tight and getting out of them was way less than graceful. And then I yanked the thong off unceremoniously and exclaimed, “Christ, that is such a fucking relief. Why do people wear those bastards?”

  Dmitri laughed at my classy move and said, “Because they make you look incredibly fuckable.”

  “So if I was wearing a pair of boxers, I wouldn’t look fuckable?”

  “You could be wearing a Snuggie and I’d still want to fuck you,” he said, then went to the bench and sat down, crossing his legs. “Ok, my turn to gawk at you.” He winked at me cheerfully and drew a little circle in the air with his index finger. “Spin for me, baby. Slowly.” I’d always thought baby was an insipid pet name, but somehow coming from him, it was cute, endearing.

  I held my hands out to my sides, palms up in a here-you-go gesture, and spun around for him. I knew my body was presentable, tanned and toned from surfing. And I wasn’t particularly bashful, so I didn’t have a problem with him taking a good, long look.

  When my back was to him, he made a sound that was somewhere between a purr and a growl, and in the next moment his arms were circling my waist. “This was such a bad idea,” he murmured as he rested his head on my shoulder and rubbed his cock lightly against my ass.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The fact that I want to throw you on the ground and fuck you senseless.”

  My voice sounded a little rough when I whispered, “So, go ahead.”

  Dmitri let go of me and stepped back. He took a deep, ragged breath and then said, his voice as husky as mine had been, “You’re not ready for me to do that, Jamie. You said so yourself earlier tonight.”

  I turned to face him. “Well, yes, I said that. I wasn’t ready to have sex with you in the back of a Hyundai within minutes of meeting you. But now–”

  “It’s still too soon. If we fucked now, you’d regret it,” he said gently.

  “Look, it’s not like I’ve been saving myself or anything. I just spent eight years with a guy that wasn’t willing to have sex with me, that’s all.”

  He looked shocked. “Eight years? So, you got together with him when you were–”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Christ. And when did you break up?”

  “Five months ago,” I said.

  “How many men have you been with since then?”

  “One. And a half.”

  “Are you counting me in that total?”

  “Of course. You’re the one. Not the half. That was some guy that felt me up in a restroom last month, when I tried my hand at the wonderfully aggressive San Francisco gay bar scene.”

  He looked totally stunned. “That’s it? That’s the sum total of your sexual experience?”

  I sighed and pulled the sweat pants on quickly, then turned to him and said, “Look, if you could please stop acting like I just fell off a turnip truck, I’d really appreciate it.” I sat on the bench and crossed my arms defensively over my chest.

  Dmitri came and knelt at my feet, still naked. And he said softly, “I’m sorry to act so surprised. It’s just – it’s such a rarity, meeting someone so pure, so innocent. It’s actually incredibly wonderful.”

  “I’m not like this by choice. At no point was the plan to be twenty three and totally inexperienced. That’s just what happens when you waste eight years of your life with someone who can’t make himself have sex with you.” My voice broke at that last part and Dmitri started to reach for me, but I held my hand up to stop him. “Don’t. If you hug me right now, I’m going to start crying. And then I’m going to feel like a total idiot.”

  “Ok.” He stood and quickly pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, then held his hand out to me. “Come on. I know just what you need.”

  “To get laid?” I joked as he pulled me to my feet.

  “Nope. But almost as good.” He led me back downstairs to the kitchen, where he pulled something out of the enormous Subzero refrigerator, then turned to me with a hopeful expression. “Please tell me you like cheesecake.”

  I laughed at that. “You’re distracting me with dessert? That’s something Jess would do.”

  “I want to meet Jess,” he told me with a smile, setting the cheesecake on the counter. “She sounds terrific.”

  “She is. Usually. When she’s not trying to set me up with every single guy in North America, or forcing me to buy slutty clothes. And to answer your question, I love cheesecake.”

  “Excellent. Me too. If you’d said you didn’t like it, I’d have thought there was something wrong with you,” he joked.

  “Well, I’m glad I passed the dessert test.”

  “You haven’t passed it yet. The real test is whether or not you realize how far superior this cheesecake is to all others on the planet. And after that, there’s a far more important test still to come,” he told me with mock seriousness as he cut a couple slices of cheesecake and plated them up.

  “Oh?”

  “It’s not enough that you like cheesecake and acknowledge the sublime perfection of this one in particular. You also have to pass the movie test. Any man of mine has to have great taste in movies and must enjoy watching them until all hours of the night. Otherwise, it’s a deal breaker.” He tried to look stern, but blew it when a little lopsided grin brought out one of his dimples.

  “My but you’re demanding, Mr. Teplov.”

  “Yes, I know. Now come on, grab the plates and follow me.” He took a bottle of clear liquid from the freezer and headed for the stairs, and I did as I was told.

  “We’re having vodka with cheesecake?”

  “Of course.”

  When we returned to the master bedroom he pull
ed back the indigo blue down comforter on his bed, and we settled in against the stack of pillows. He took the desserts from me and set them on his nightstand, then pulled a remote from the drawer and pressed a button. A huge flat screen TV rose silently from the top of a console across the room. Another button turned on the TV, and he began flipping through an on-screen menu. “Do you mind if I pick what we watch?” he asked.

  “That depends. Does your taste in movies totally suck?”

  “Of course not! I have impeccable taste in all things. Which is why you’re in my bed,” he said with a smug smile.