If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(37)

Cal plucked the condom from James’s hand. He tore the wrapper with his teeth. “On your back.”

James moved into a more comfortable position, his head on the pillow instead of leaning against the headboard, and reached for the lube. He held the bottle out on his palm like an offering, just like when he’d arrived with the bag earlier.

Once the condom was in place, Cal took the lube and smeared some on it. Nerves and excitement vied for dominance; he wanted this, and he wanted James, but there was pressure now. A need he’d not been able to fulfil entirely before. He was in a better position—so to speak—to fulfil that now, but he was afraid of failing again, especially with James in this raw state.

“Please,” James whispered, and Cal realised he’d hesitated for a long moment. “Cal . . .”

Pushing back his nerves, Cal locked eyes with James. “I like it when you beg.”

James shuddered and opened his legs, lifting his knees, offering himself, gaze fixed on Cal’s. No doubt or worry there, not even much of the rawness. He seemed vulnerable, but he always was in this position. Safe ground. He trusted Cal to fulfil the promise, and maybe not doing it the first time had been dumb or selfish, but thankfully, James seemed to easily flip back into that headspace, without reservation or grudges.

Cal pushed between James’s legs, positioned himself. Recalling how much James had liked it when it hurt, he thrust in.

James’s eyes rolled back and he arched against the invasion, fingers digging into the mattress, the very picture of abandon. Exactly what he’d wanted, just a dash of force, maybe even a selfish kind of top, but that was too easy. Cal pushed in deep, angled himself so he was hitting him just right, then pulled out again; James groaned when he breached him again for another, deeper thrust and then again pulled out all the way. It allowed him to focus on lasting longer, and he loved the moment when he slid in, loved the way James moaned and trembled when he was being entered. It was f*cking, yet also power and control.

“Cal, please. Please.”

There, the Bat Signal. Cal grinned and leaned over James, sliding into him slower, rolling his hips, teasing. James’s eyes were on him again, though he was clearly fighting for words, or control, or anything else, but Cal’s slow, intense rhythm had them both almost incoherent. It was perfect—James didn’t try to fight him, just slowly drowned in sensation and his own need. Cal loved watching him, loved how they moved together, breathed together, loved the slapping of flesh together, because this was them together at their best. Perfect fit. If only everything else fit so well.

Cal bore down on him, moving on to harsh f*cking, and James squirmed underneath him, until he tightened and arched, covering Cal’s belly and the space between them with liquid heat. Cal f*cked him right through his orgasm, and managed to pull out before he lost it. He moved further up, pulled off the condom and, two, three quick jerks with his hand later, came all over James’s face.

James looked just a bit surprised, then licked a drop of his cum off his lips and stared up at Cal, eyes gleaming.

Breathing hard, Cal grinned down at him. He climbed off, trying not to show that his legs were shaking, though any man’s would be after all that exertion and that orgasm. He nodded sharply towards the bathroom. “Go grab yourself a towel. One for me too.”

James didn’t hesitate. He got up quickly, pausing to get his legs under him. He returned a few seconds later, mopping at his face with a hand towel as he held out another for Cal. For the second time this afternoon, they cleaned themselves up, and lounged in the massive bed.

“How long do we have the room?” Cal asked, forcing himself to enunciate as postorgasmic lethargy set in.

James grinned, his eyes heavy-lidded. “As long as we want it.”

“Good.” Cal wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders, and closed his eyes as James rested his head on his chest. Just as well they didn’t need to check out anytime soon. He doubted he had enough for a third go-round—though with this man in bed with him, anything was possible—but for now, he just didn’t want to move.

So he didn’t.





“Before we get started, I have a question.”

Cupping his steaming mug in both hands on the other side of the couch, Nick raised his eyebrows. “Ask away.”

Cal tapped a fingertip on his own mug. “Is it possible to be . . . a top, but on the bottom?”

Nick tilted his head slightly. “You mean, is it possible for a Dom to be f*cked and still be in control?”

Cal nodded.

“Hmm. I don’t know.” Nick looked over his shoulder as Spencer came into the room with a third cup of tea. “Spencer, what do you think?”

Spencer paused mid-step, glancing back and forth from Nick to Cal. Then he continued, and as he sat beside Nick on the couch, said, “About what?”

Nick sipped his tea, then set it down. “Is it possible for a Dom to be f*cked and still be in control?”

Spencer’s lips quirked, and when he glanced at Nick, they exchanged subtle but telling grins. An image flickered through Cal’s mind of Spencer f*cking Nick, and while he could imagine that, he couldn’t imagine Nick relinquishing the slightest bit of control. Question answered.

Spencer nodded. “It’s definitely possible.”

Nick smiled. He patted Spencer’s leg and then faced Cal. His humour faltered slightly. “Is this something you want to try?”