If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(8)

This close up, Nick was shorter, slighter than him, but that thought faded when Nick placed his fingers on Spencer’s sternum. “Fantasies? Anything you’ve always wanted to try?

Stuff from the locked part of your hard drive? Tell me.”

Tell me. That may as well have been the password to those files buried deep in the back of Spencer’s mind, because his mouth didn’t hesitate to respond. “I like it rough.”

“Define ‘rough,’ Spencer.” Those two fingers trailed across Spencer’s chest, towards his nipple, and Nick’s nipple ring suddenly had Spencer’s attention. “How rough?”

“I . . .”

“There’s all kinds of degrees of rough, Spencer.” He really liked saying his name, didn’t he? His fingers drew closer to Spencer’s nipple, making progressively smaller circles.

“There’s the kind that leaves marks.” Green eyes flicked up, down again. “There’s the kind that leaves serious marks.”

25

Oh God. The man hadn’t been joking about the things he could offer besides topping. And maybe, in the privacy of his own home, with a guy who was discreet and a professional— maybe it was possible to actually act on those fantasies. It would be hard to shock this guy, wouldn’t it?

“N-no visible marks.”

A grin. A filthy, shiver-inducing grin. Nick looked at him through that blond fringe again, tossed his head, looked at him with nothing over his eyes. “Well, they’ll be visible to me, won’t they?”

Spencer swallowed. “You know what I mean. Nothing anyone at the office will see.”

Nick nodded and made a quiet sound, watched his finger continue its spiral ing path towards Spencer’s nipple. “And what about on surfaces no one at the office will see?”

“Um, well . . .” He sucked in a hiss of breath as Nick’s nail took over for his fingertip, trailing round and round that sensitive flesh, biting in just enough to keep Spencer from forming a coherent thought. “Just . . . no blood.”

“No blood through the skin?” Nick teased, pressing in with the edge of his nail. “Or none under the skin either?”

What? What the hell? What the hell are you— Bruising. Right.

Couldn’t he just say that, then?

As if he could hear Spencer’s thoughts, Nick met his eyes, and that damn grin curled a little higher on one side.

Oh. Of course he couldn’t just say it. That wouldn’t f*ck with Spencer’s mind nearly enough, would it?

“I need to be able to sit at my desk and work,” Spencer said, and, funny, but this very simple, very reasonable statement already felt a little bit like he was defying Nick. What, fifteen minutes in? Something like that. And why on earth not defy 26

Nick? He was a rentboy, so it was Spencer who was actually in control. He assumed he’d at least get to come in the next two hours. Nick had to know what he was doing, so, uhm, maybe try and relax.

“I’ll improvise. Don’t have my bag of tricks with me.”

Toys. Whips? What . . . oh God. Spencer glanced at the bed and Nick slapped him sharply on the chest, making him jump. What was that for?

“Look at me.”

Oh. Spencer wondered briefly if Nick would try to make him call him “sir” or something, because that was probably where the spell would break. Just a tiny bit too far towards ridiculous.

Nick dug his fingernails—did he file them to be so sharp?—into Spencer’s chest and dragged them down. One went across his nipple, and Spencer jumped, but his balls jumped harder.

“Whatever I’ll do to your arse will be fine by Monday,”

Nick stated matter-of-factly. “At worst, sit on a pillow.”

“I can’t . . . I can’t take a pillow to work.”

Nick’s shoulder rose in a half-shrug. “Then don’t make me do more to your arse than you can handle on Monday.”

Sweet. Mother. Of God.

“Okay.” Sir. Wait, no, that’s— “You’re very easily distracted.”

“Not really.” Spencer swallowed. “Just a lot to . . . process.

Take in.”

Nick responded with a toothy grin. “Not yet there isn’t.”

What the f*ck does—Good Lord, is everything this man says loaded?

“Anyway.” Nick cleared his throat and was right back to business, still teasing the f*ck out of Spencer’s nipple. “You have condoms, yes? And lube?”

27

“Plenty.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He abruptly withdrew his hand, and then gestured at Spencer. “All of that. Off.”

“Al —”

“Yes. Two hours, Spencer. The more time you spend dressed, the more time I spend dressed.”

Well, shit. Spencer got his clothes off so fast they may as well have evaporated. When he was completely naked, he stood there, in the middle of the room, wondering what would happen next. All part of the diabolical plot, he was sure.

Smirking, Nick cupped his elbow in one hand and thoughtfully stroked his chin with the other. He walked slowly towards Spencer. Then around him. Even when he was outside of Spencer’s peripheral vision, Spencer could feel him looking him up and down. Goose bumps rose everywhere goose bumps could, and his spine felt like a crackling bundle of live wires just barely contained beneath his skin.