If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(15)
47
He shifted again, trying to relieve some of the pressure against his dick.
“Now you’re ready for the second course,” Nick said on top of him.
Spencer nodded and opened his legs further. His pulse was speeding up when he heard the zip again, then the condom packet and the lube cap, and he couldn’t bloody wait to feel Nick inside him again. Slow or fast, bruising or without a trace, he really didn’t care as long as Nick did it.
Nick’s slick thumbs were at his arse again, digging into the muscle, opening him up for the cock that immediately followed, thrust in hard and fast. Spencer gritted his teeth to keep himself from shouting; the assault was amazing and yet completely brutal.
Nick didn’t even check with him if he was okay, merely placed one flat hand on Spencer’s lower back, levering himself that way as he began to thrust. No teasing, not this time. If Spencer hadn’t known better, it felt almost as if Nick was at the end of his patience. Now he was getting everything Nick had been holding back, and it was powerful and completely savage and it hurt, but every time it hurt, mellow pleasure trickled all through his body.
He bore Nick’s full weight, received his full strength in every movement, and yelped when Nick reached over to pull him back by the shoulders.
Spencer arched his back, nearly protesting at the rough treatment, his arse on fire. Seriously on fire. What had been teasing wasn’t now. Nick f*cked him hard and mercilessly, the bed creaking around them while Spencer did what he could to take it. Now this was what he’d paid for, though it was almost too much.
48
Nick paused just as Spencer was about ready to shoot.
He shifted his weight and took Spencer’s wrists, folded them together in the small of his back, and oh God, this was hot beyond words, Nick’s weight on his arms, Spencer’s face pushed against the mattress with every thrust. He managed to buck up and, with an encouraging sound from Nick, get to his knees with Nick hilted inside him.
Every thrust now shook him to his core, his brain spinning on vague ideas of being trapped, captured, imprisoned, abused, his devilish captor f*cking him without mercy or consideration. Fantasising that he really hated this, but he loved it, that there was nothing he could do about it, and that he was completely at somebody’s mercy, unable to speak even to beg.
Nick groaned, and it was the hottest thing Spencer had ever heard. Nick’s dam cracking, the veil of complete control lifting just enough to show the raw, primal man underneath who could only keep it together for so long. That Nick was even capable of getting there, that he’d gotten there while f*cking Spencer, was the most spectacular turn-on imaginable.
Spencer wanted to f*ck him back, to complement his movements and drive him even deeper, even harder, but he was pinned. Immobilised. One hundred per cent at the mercy of a man who, in spite of his own quickening breathing and tightening grasp on Spencer’s hands, wasn’t about to relinquish that control.
So Spencer didn’t fight him. He didn’t fight anything. He just knelt there and basked in it, lost himself in it, completely gave himself up to every thrust, and though he never came very hard the second time, he did this time, and his entire body wanted to shake but couldn’t because he couldn’t.
Fucking. Move.
49
Nick rode Spencer’s climax right past its peak, and he f*cked him even harder, to the point it hurt—but God, it was amazing—and finally released a strangled sound, one that might have been laced with profanity, and forced himself all the way into Spencer. His hips jerked against Spencer’s arse, like his mind wanted a few more thrusts but his body couldn’t handle any more.
In the next instant, Nick exhaled and released Spencer’s wrists. Spencer let his arms fall to his sides—didn’t really need them anyway—and just closed his eyes and panted.
And somewhere in the delirium, a single thought crystal ised in his brain: This guy is worth twice what he charges.
Anybody who could get him off with nothing but f*cking was a genius.
Nick pushed away, and that kind of gave Spencer back some control over his body. He fell to the side, this time watching Nick head to the bathroom, sliding the condom off and knotting it while he walked, when Spencer would have been overtaxed with merely walking and breathing at the same time.
God, it paid to hire a pro.
He drifted pleasantly, aching all over from two of the most intense orgasms of his life. Fuck the clock. Fuck the price. Just . . . f*ck.
Nick came back out of the bathroom, half-dressed and again looking unruffled, though flushed. He grinned when he saw Spencer flat on the bed. “Can any of the partners in your law firm do that?”
Spencer laughed, half-disbelieving how cocky the bastard was. “If they did, I’d definitely enjoy my job a great deal more.”
Nick nodded. “No kidding.” He waited.
50
Oh. Money. Yeah—that. Spencer groaned and tried to remember where he’d put his wallet. Should be in his jacket.
Though remembering Nick’s rate, that wouldn’t get him anywhere, unless Nick took credit cards. He did keep some cash in the living room, though. He’d stashed a few grand in a safe ever since the global financial meltdown in 2008. That whole debacle had spooked him enough to have a safe built into one wall to keep money for emergencies. This counted, kind of.
“Uh. Let me just . . .” He managed to assemble enough bones in his body to get to his feet and walked—wobbled, really—into the living room. The safe opened after he’d focused enough to punch in the combination, and he pulled a wad of cash out. Twenty-five twenties, a respectable little pile.