If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(23)

He nearly buckled when Nick pulled out and stroked his back.“Well done,” Nick told him and took him by the elbow, guiding him around the bed and onto the mattress.

Nick vanished for a couple of minutes. When he returned, he settled near Spencer on the bed and pulled him against his chest. Still blindfolded. He smelled of coconut and pineapple and fresh sweat, which seemed a vast improvement on the regular pi?a colada recipe.

“Oh God,” Spencer breathed.

Nick ran his fingers over Spencer’s shoulder. “Hate to break it to you, but you are a masochist.”

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Spencer chuckled. “No shit.” Though it did seem weird to own that title, and if someone had told him in the middle of a normal Tuesday afternoon, he might have balked. But lying here with fading red points on his nerve endings, and his whole body still floating from the f*cking evil sticks and the . . . well, the f*cking? He couldn’t argue.

Those fine fingers stroked Spencer’s hair, and he pressed against them like a cat.

Nick laughed softly. “Kind of had a feeling you would be.”

“Oh yeah?” Spencer turned his head towards the sound of Nick’s voice. “What gave you that idea?”

“Well, I figured you must enjoy suffering if you hang out with the doucheweasel.”

Spencer snorted. “What? You know him?”

Nick made a soft, derisive sound, and Spencer could almost hear him rol ing his eyes. “Uh, yeah. And if you’re a friend of his, you must be a pain slut.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad.”

“You’ve obviously never tried to sell him your dick.”

“Uh, no. Can’t say I have.”

“Brings out the arsehole in a lot of people. Ironically.”

Spencer hesitated. “You deal with a lot of jerks in your line of work?”

“Well, they’re usually the ones in need of cock by the hour.” Nick shrugged, his shoulder brushing Spencer’s.

“Either because no one else will touch them, or because they can’t stay faithful to the ones who do.”

“Doesn’t sound like a great work environment. With people like that around.”

“Says the lawyer.” Nick wriggled beside him, maybe stretching out or otherwise getting comfortable, and continued stroking Spencer’s hair. “Only difference between 76

your work environment and mine is I can shove a ball gag—or anything, really—into someone’s mouth if he won’t shut up.

And f*ck him up the arse. Which sort of makes it easier to put up with their bullshit, you know?”

“Does it?”

“Sure. Say whatever you want, when I’m balls deep in you, I’m in charge and we both know it.”

Spencer shivered. Oh, yeah. He did know it, didn’t he?

And he f*cking well liked it and didn’t give a damn why. He cleared his throat. “So, um, do you mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Ask whatever you want. Price doesn’t include answers.”

“So is there any point in asking?”

“Maybe.” Another unseen shrug. “Just no guarantee.”

“Fair enough.” Wonder how much guaranteed answers are.

“How in the world did you get into this business?”

“It’s easy money.”

“Is it?”

“Week’s salary for a night of work? Sure is.” Nick traced the line of Spencer’s nose down to his lips. “Spent lots of time in various clubs. Sometimes, people offered me money.

Sometimes, I took it. Gathered some experience. Went ful -

time.”

“Just like that?”

Nick chuckled. “I wasn’t forced into it. I’m not a broken kid who needs to be rescued, Spencer. I do what I do because I’m good at it and it pays a lot.”

“Damn,” Spencer murmured. “There go all my clichés.”

“Not saying they don’t exist, but . . .” Nick shrugged again.

“I might upgrade to online porn someday, but the thing is, I like to see who I’m dealing with, and the camera adds performance stress. I don’t think this shit should be rushed.”

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Yeah, things like the petting and the . . . centring, for want of a better word—those needed time and patience. With a camera, things were on the clock by the minute rather than the hour, and he imagined that could quite easily go very wrong. “So what’s this? A cuddle? Heart-to-heart?”

“You were flying so high, I had to bring you back down.

Aftercare.”

“Okay.” He felt good. Easy. Light. Relaxed. Deeper and warmer than simple after-sex buzz. “I like this.”

Nick chuckled again. “I like all of it. The anticipation. The build. The sex. And then this.”

“I imagine it might be different with a partner or a boyfriend.”

He’d been fishing, and he knew it. Nick didn’t respond immediately, so he’d noticed it too. And didn’t answer. Maybe too close to home, too personal, or maybe a warning sign that a customer was getting rather too interested.

When he finally did say something, it wasn’t exactly an answer. “You seem to be single.”

“Yeah, the last one . . . transferred to the New York City branch to work on acquisitions in Europe for American multi-nationals. Great career step for him, but a long-distance thing wasn’t really feasible when both of us were fal ing asleep over a pile of files almost every night, anyway.”