If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(14)

Still over Spencer, but kneeling. Hardly a submissive posture, particularly not now that— Oh my God. Leather simultaneously warmed and cooled the sides of Spencer’s thighs, and just below his arse, more leather. Nick was straddling him. Over him.

44

Nick wasn’t heavy by any means, but he was solid. Muscle through and through. He may have been slight, but he wasn’t going to break in half if the wind hit him wrong.

His weight shifted towards Spencer’s torso. Once again, his hands were on Spencer’s shoulders. On the shoulder blades this time, and pressing in. He started making circles with the heels of his hands, and Spencer couldn’t help groaning.

“Didn’t realise a massage was included.”

“Sometimes I improvise.”

“There’s some oil.” Spencer lifted his arm—when did his own limbs get so f*cking heavy?—and gestured at the dresser.

“In the top—”

“No oil.” Nick’s hands pressed harder, made broader strokes across Spencer’s flesh. “I like some friction.”

“Just don’t give me carpet burn,” Spencer muttered, but Nick’s hands felt good on his skin, the touches sure and gentle, considerate, ironically unlike the occasional one-night-stands who all but treated him like a slab of meat.

Spencer relaxed, noticed how Nick leaned into every one of his strokes, using his body weight rather than arm or hand muscles. Every now and then, Nick’s leather-clad groin came into contact with Spencer’s arse, and he wondered if Nick was enjoying the frustration of being trapped in his trousers. He imagined Nick getting himself off by just f*cking his crack like this, or wanking over him. Both had definite appeal.

The massage helped immensely with the comedown, though the second Nick added some fingernails, Spencer was wide awake again. His back was all warm, and now Nick was working his sides, sliding with both hands towards the spine, nails sometimes interrupting the open-palm motions.

Spencer groaned with the pleasure of it. Every time he started to drift off, the nails brought him back.

45

When Nick reached his arse, he was nearly ready to go again, but he almost jumped out of his skin when Nick’s thumbs slid into his crack and pulled his cheeks apart.

He tensed, then felt a thumb trail the slickness of the lube there, and wondered if Nick got a kick out of his lube-slick hole. While wondering if those thumbs would enter him.

Nick scooted further down his legs, changed the angle and pressed against Spencer’s perineum, but almost more intense was the slightest scrape of nails against the back of his sac. There was no way he could fall asleep now. Spencer rested his forehead against his arm and let Nick do whatever the hell he wanted.

As if satisfied with what he’d found, Nick’s hands moved back up all the way and started again at his neck. “So far, I think you’ll be okay on Monday. You might keep a bruise for a good week or so, though.”

Bruise?

Spencer lifted his head and glanced back, bringing Nick into the very edges of his peripheral vision. “You bruised me?”

“Not yet.” Matter-of-fact, as always.

Spencer lowered his head again. Nick had already mind-f*cked him within an inch of his life; what was a bruise or two?“You like this, don’t you?” There was a hint of a growl in his voice now, one Nick punctuated with a subtle roll of his hips, pressing his erection against Spencer’s bare arse.

“Yes, I do.”

“Would you like it more if I was f*cking you?”

Spencer groaned before he could stop himself.

Nick laughed softly. “Of course you would.” Right back to taunting. Prick.

46

Nick shifted more weight over his arms and kept kneading Spencer’s muscles, which ached under the pressure. His skin burned, bordering on too much but staying mostly within the realms of incredibly arousing. It wouldn’t have surprised him at all if this was how Nick left a bruise. He massaged like he wasn’t satisfied with tenderising muscles. His hands demanded pliability from Spencer’s bones.

And all the while, there was that ever-present erection against Spencer’s arse. He couldn’t not focus on it, not even when Nick dug his fingers or the heels of his hands into Spencer’s back. It was always there. Always pressing into his skin and his awareness.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. His whole body throbbed in ways that should have been uncomfortable, but weren’t. The pain was . . . well, shit, now he was starting to understand why some people liked it. Pain at the hands of someone like Nick, with the unspoken assumption— command—that he would enjoy it, was amazing.

And arousing. So, so arousing. Between the pleasant thrum of pain and the hot friction, not to mention that hard-on, Spencer’s erection was rubbing against the bed every time his body shifted or twisted under Nick’s touch. Strange, being so hyperaware of two hard cocks when he wasn’t even getting f*cked. Or when, strictly speaking, one was just there to pleasure him. Though Nick fulfilled that role without seeming to.

Compared to the awkwardness of a one-night-stand, this was so much easier. Compatibility didn’t even figure. No hot guys with terrible habits or no chemistry, no interesting guys with awful body hygiene or a tiny dick. Nick came in a package that was exactly as ordered—and probably included a return policy. He was starting to see Percy’s point.