If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(22)

“Please.”

The hand slid lower and damn near crushed Spencer’s balls.“Yes?”

Spencer tried to resist the urge to try to protect his balls.

The pain was oh so good when it stopped. “I want to feel you . . .”

“You are.” Nick twisted his hand around Spencer’s balls again, and Spencer whimpered.

“In . . . inside.”

Nick paused, moved somehow, but Spencer wasn’t sure what he was doing. Nick’s hand pushed something between his fingers. “Put that on me.”

A condom. Sweet f*cking hell.

Spencer took it in both hands, but soon realised that opening a condom was more complex when he couldn’t see a thing, especially when his senses were still overloaded, the evil stick’s bites still tingling and burning to the point of distraction. And even when he’d pulled the condom from the torn packet, it was all much more complicated than it should 72

have been. Which way was the right way around? He reached to the side, where Nick stood, ran his hands along the leather trousers to get an idea of the geography, located the zip with one hand while he held the condom with the other. He twisted his arm enough to pull the zip down, and, oh wow, Nick didn’t wear any underwear. That thick cock nestled into his hand, and Spencer was tempted to pet and caress it, but that hadn’t been the order.

He was just glad that he did seem to turn Nick on. Or at least what they did.

He placed the condom on Nick’s cock, held it with one hand and rolled it down with the other, felt Nick’s fingers on his, adjusting the latex, making sure it was all in the right place.

“Down.”

Spencer retook his position against the bed and bent a little to level the difference in height. Opened his legs further so Nick had him where he wanted. Where they both wanted.

He heard the lube cap open and close, the wet sounds of lube being smeared on a condom.

Finally. Spencer clenched his eyes behind the blindfold and took a few slow, deep breaths. As Nick’s fingers slipped into his crack and found his anus, he took even slower, deeper breaths. Not nerves this time. Oh, hell no. He was so far beyond nerves now. Just need. Pure, white-hot need.

He reminded himself not to grit his teeth, no matter how impatient he was, because that would only make him tense up and prolong Nick’s careful but insistent prepping, sliding lubed fingers in and out of the ring, but never reaching far in.

Apparently satisfied Spencer was ready for him—which he was, oh God, he so was—Nick withdrew his fingers, and wiped them on Spencer’s thigh. He rested one hand on 73

Spencer’s hip, but not the other, and Spencer imagined it steadying Nick’s cock by the base. Steadying it. Guiding it.

Oh, f*ck. There. Yes.

Nick pressed in, and Spencer pushed back, leaned back, wanting as much of Nick as possible and to hell with the pain.

“Patience,” Nick said, half teasing and half dead serious.

“We’re doing things my way, remember?”

Spencer licked his lips and nodded. “Sorry.”

Nick pushed against him again, and just like the first time, Spencer almost col apsed in on himself when the head of Nick’s cock passed the tight ring and was, finally, inside him.

He gripped the footboard tighter and curled his toes into the coarse carpet as Nick slid deeper, withdrew, slid even deeper.

His skin tingled all over, especially where the sparks of pain still lingered, and his lack of sight left him no choice but to focus a little on those burning embers, while the bulk of his awareness concentrated on Nick’s slow, slick strokes. Nick had barely touched his cock, had only just started f*cking him, and Spencer swore he was already a breath away from letting go. This was an unknown, unexplored level of turned on, an intense need for release coupled with an insatiable craving for more, more, more, and Nick had barely gotten started.

Both of Nick’s hands were on Spencer’s hips now, fingertips digging into his flanks as he started picking up speed. And it was glorious, every movement just right, just perfect, and with the residual sting from the evil sticks echoing all over on his skin, Nick’s steady, strong, demanding presence, the way he was inside him and holding him by the hips—it all came together into one amazing whirlwind of sensation that matched his need perfectly, the f*cking like a much-rehearsed movement; they just worked together like this, until even their breaths came in parallel.

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Spencer pushed back, wanted more, wanted to come, wanted to feel Nick at his worst and best. Ignoring the warning hiss, he pushed back harder, trying to get Nick to speed up.

Instead, the bastard stopped.

“You’re not in control,” Nick informed him. “It’s a privilege to have your hands free. Not to be gagged. If you don’t behave, I’ll tie you up like a Christmas turkey. Understood?” A vicious twist to a nipple made Spencer shudder and groan.

“Understood.”

“Good.” Nick’s hand moved from his nipple to his throat, dug in fingers and thumb, and what was it about that touch that made Spencer’s balls draw up? He felt Nick pulse inside him, and heard something like a small gasp. Nick’s hand pressed harder against his throat; it really hurt, because that f*cker was strong.

Then, at the same time, Nick’s thrusts picked up again, short and brutal, and that combination set Spencer off like fireworks. His throat was pressed shut while he came, and he didn’t really have enough air to gasp, and he saw stars behind the blindfold while Nick kept f*cking him hard.