If It Fornicates (Market Garden, #4)(24)

“Three,” Nick responded and continued stroking, tight oiled fist now brushing over the cock head, squeezing, which made Spencer tense head to toe, very nearly lifting him off the mattress. There was just enough pain in the touch to help Spencer regain a little control; a small mercy before Spencer did have a heart attack in bed. Of course, it knitted the pain and pleasure closer together in Spencer’s brain, too. “You with me, Spencer?”

“Yes. Never . . . never gone.”

Flying high. Spencer was happy in his subspace—second nature for the guy. The door was always wide open, and Spencer stepped through with an ease and a grace that was mind-blowing all of its own.

“Two.”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath. His fists were tight now, the chain between the cuffs pulled taut, and Nick swore the air itself thrummed with the tension radiating from every muscle in Spencer’s body. He was waiting, waiting, anticipating, no doubt knowing that final word, that last number, was as far off as Nick wanted it to be, and he might be hanging like this all damned night if Nick wanted him to.

“One.”

Spencer came. Instantly. Like that single word had been the knife waiting to cut the tightly drawn rope, and now it had snapped, and his whole body lifted off the bed as jets of semen dotted the dark skin across his abs and chest.

As soon as Spencer started to settle back onto the bed—and likely back into the present—Nick slowed his hand to a smooth stop. He released Spencer’s dick, and Spencer sighed. All the tension was gone now, every muscle trembling with the aftermath.

Nick grabbed some tissues from the bedside table and cleaned off his hand. Then he took a few more and wiped the semen off Spencer’s skin. About that time, Spencer blinked a few times, and then looked at Nick.

Nick discarded the tissues and reached for the handcuffs. “You remember what to do next, don’t you, Spencer?”

“Yes. Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” Nick released one of Spencer’s wrists, and the cuffs rattled as Spencer brought his arms back down. Spencer started to sit up, but Nick stopped him. “Not yet. I still have to take off the other cuff.”

Spencer looked at his wrist, bewildered, like he didn’t even realize the metal bracelet was still attached.

Nick took his hand. “You did very well.” He trailed his other hand from Spencer’s elbow down his forearm, inching towards the cuff. “You’re so obedient, Spencer.”

Spencer shifted a little. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Still holding onto Spencer’s hand and lightly touching his forearm, Nick leaned in and kissed Spencer. He kept teasing Spencer’s arm with feather-light touches as he gently urged Spencer’s lips apart with his tongue. Nick was painfully hard now, anticipating the eager, enthusiastic blowjob that was only a command away, but he hid it from Spencer and just made out with him lazily, gently.

He searched blindly for the cuff, and found it. Then the quick release. All he had to do was flick that switch, that tiny sliver of metal pressing into the pad of his thumb, and the cuff would come off, and then Spencer would be on his knees and sucking Nick’s cock.

One motion. One command. And he knew Spencer was hyperaware of that too. Poised and ready to drop to his knees the instant he was both commanded and allowed. The kiss they shared intensified with each passing second, Nick’s pulse rising and his hand barely staying steady on the quick release switch as he and Spencer kissed, and he wasn’t sure how he was just as out of breath as Spencer now, but he was.

He pressed the switch.

The cuff loosened around Spencer’s wrist.

A less obedient sub would’ve shaken off the cuff and dropped to the floor in an instant.

Spencer didn’t move. When Nick broke the kiss, Spencer shuddered and whispered, “Please?”

Nick kissed him once more. Then, “On your knees.”

The speed with which Spencer went from sitting on the bed to kneeling on the floor almost made Nick come. As Spencer knelt and waited, Nick swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and lowered himself onto his feet. And still, Spencer didn’t move. He knew the command, knew what Nick wanted him to do, but he hadn’t been given permission yet.

Nick touched Spencer’s face. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Sweating, out of breath, both shaking a little, they held each other’s gazes.

Promise me you’ll think about doing something, giving something up so you can be happy.

Spencer’s eyes were wide, a little wet from the intensity of everything they’d just done, and Nick swore they said, If you give something up, please don’t let it be me.

Nick drew his hand back, gave the slightest nod, and Spencer didn’t hesitate—he opened his lips and took Nick’s cock as far as he could manage. Even more—and this part was oddly touching—he didn’t use his hands, kept his wrists crossed on his back. Like Nick had taught him on a different occasion, and the fact that he remembered thrilled Nick as much as the wetness and heat of Spencer’s mouth.

He placed a hand on Spencer’s head, kept his gaze steady on his face; Spencer’s expression was blank and focused, every slide along Nick’s cock worshipful and loving. Spencer loved doing this, loved doing it for him, and Nick held tight onto his own control to enjoy this just for a little longer. Tongue, suction, the gorgeous man on his knees, utterly focused not on multimillion-pound deals and contracts, but on sucking Nick’s cock. He looked blissfully happy.