If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(9)

Nick appeared again and stopped, still stroking his chin.

“Where do you keep all your necessities?”

Spencer gestured at the bedside table. “It’s all in there.”

“Get it out. Leave it on the table where I can find it easily.”

At some point, it dawned on Spencer that Nick wasn’t asking him to do anything. There was no “will you” or “please.”

Strange thing was, that fact didn’t dawn on Spencer until the lube and condoms were already sitting next to the reading lamp and he was halfway back to where Nick was waiting.

Motherf*cker.

“I think I’m a bit too dressed.” Nick’s thumb and forefinger left his jaw and rotated downwards, pointing at the floor. “Boots.”

You’re kidding, right? You want me to kneel, bare-arse naked, on my own bedroom carpet, and take off your f*cking 28

boots when I’m the one coughing up two hundred and fifty quid an hour?

Nick may or may not have been kidding—likely not— but Spencer was on his knees, bare-arsed naked, on his own bedroom carpet, taking off Nick’s f*cking boots. And paying for the privilege.

Nick’s feet were bare, and his toenails were coated in black polish, just like his fingernails. Spencer wiped his hands on his thighs, then made to get up— And Nick touched his shoulders, pushing him down.

Holding him in place.

It was so bizarre, Spencer didn’t even know what to say or do. Normally, he’d have freaked out if anybody had given him that order, inside or outside the bedroom, but following Nick’s orders didn’t feel so bad. It didn’t feel weird, and he suspected it would stay that way as long as Nick didn’t push too far. There was something to be said for hiring a pro, and he was starting to appreciate that Nick was one. At least, he was hired help rather than somebody who actually mattered to him in some way in his real life. Office, job, family, all the other things.

He stayed down, found himself breathing a little faster than before.

“Look up.”

He looked up, not sure if he’d see concern or something else, maybe checking in with him to make sure he was still good, but Nick’s dash of arrogance hadn’t changed at al . “You like leather, right?”

Spencer nodded. “More than PVC.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

Ouch. Like Nick had told him to focus again, told him they weren’t having tea in the kitchen together. Nick had 29

drawn a line in the sand there, and Spencer had stepped over it, unaware it existed at al . Slowly, carefully, Nick seemed to be penning him in, and Spencer wondered for a moment if and when he’d freak out. Maybe when the guy shoved his feet into his face. Or . . . something. He should probably call a halt to the whole thing. Bonaparte?

“Show it.”

Spencer glanced up again. “What?”

“You like leather?” Nick’s lips pulled back in an evil, evil grin. “Show it.”

“How?”

Nick pushed his hips forward. “Lick the seam.”

Uh. Spencer stared at the guy’s groin right in front of his eyes, the flap of leather covering the zip. Somehow, specifying “seam” sounded dirty in his ears, but he moved that little bit closer, stuck his tongue out and gingerly traced the smooth leather. He could smell the zip from here, the metal ic tang, but the taste of leather was stronger, and he thought he could sense a growing bulge just a breath away. God, he hoped Nick was hung.

Cocky as he is, he has to be. Unless he’s compensating or— “That’s enough.”

The sharp comment straightened Spencer’s spine. He looked up.

The prostitute smiled, and an odd sense of relief rushed through Spencer, though somewhere in his body it crossed over a conduit and became electricity, and that electricity went straight down to his balls. So strange, being this off-balance and aroused at the same time. And one didn’t help the other at al : the more turned on he was, the more off-kilter he was. The more off-kilter, the more turned on. What the hell?

30

Nick leaned back a little and tilted his head, looking past Spencer’s face and farther down. The smile turned to another one of those mind-bending grins. “Well. Looks like I have plenty to work with, don’t I?”

Heat rushed into Spencer’s face as well as his groin.

“Thank you,” was all he could think to say, and he wasn’t sure why.Nick’s hand moved over Spencer’s cropped hair. The touch was surprisingly gentle. It put Spencer on guard because, knowing what he did about Nick, gentle could very abruptly become . . . not. At the same time, though, it was calming. Like an intermission, a moment Nick had granted him to catch his breath.

“How long has it been since you’ve been f*cked, Spencer?”

Every muscle below Spencer’s waist tightened. “It’s . . .

a while. A few weeks, maybe.” Longer? He couldn’t even remember right now. Not since . . . at least not . . . what was the question?

“That long?” Nick’s tone walked that razor-fine line between playful and snide. “Though I suppose if it hadn’t been a while, I wouldn’t be here tonight, would I?”

“No.” Spencer closed his eyes and focused on those long, fine fingers moving over his hair in a smooth, calming rhythm.

“I guess that means I should be careful, shouldn’t I?”