If It Fornicates (Market Garden, #4)(25)

Nick gritted his teeth at a clever slide of Spencer’s tongue over the head of his dick, his own control brittle now. He didn’t like denying himself any more than anybody else would, though he sometimes let it deliberately build.

He urged Spencer’s head forward, and was rewarded with Spencer swallowing him all the way down. The workings of his muscles against the invasion did it. Two, three, four deep strokes right down Spencer’s throat, and orgasm hit him. He pulled back, though it cost him, and managed to come against Spencer’s face and neck rather than down his throat. Spencer looked up at him as Nick pumped his own cock, milking himself through the orgasm and painting Spencer’s skin.

“I want . . . to feel you inside me next . . . next time,” Spencer said, gently, softly, a polite request rather than bargaining.

Nick nodded, breathless, teeth gritted. He touched Spencer’s face, traced a drop of his own semen down towards the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “Can’t wait.”

Spencer smiled at him, making no movement to clean himself. Nick reached for one of the towels, used the corner of it to wipe his semen off Spencer’s skin, then put the towel down.

“Thank you,” Spencer said.

Nick bent down and kissed him again. “Come up into the bed.”

Spencer rose on legs that weren’t quite steady and did as he was told. Nick joined him. Nick wrapped his arm around Spencer’s shoulders, and Spencer rested his head on Nick’s chest.

The night didn’t feel like it was over yet. There was some conversation or . . . or something that still needed to happen. Something that needed to be said or done. But the smouldering afterglow didn’t invite much in the way of conversation; lying together like this in warm, blissful silence was the only thing they could do now. It was the only thing Nick wanted to do. Cuddling used to make him stir crazy. It bored him, just lying there and doing nothing.

But he wasn’t bored now. And whatever needed to be said would still be there in the morning.





When he pulled an all-nighter with a client, Nick usually woke up drained but ready to make a professional, businesslike, and quick—he hoped—escape with money in his pocket. Some clients liked keeping him around for a little while. Now and then, they negotiated one last go-round between coffee and Nick’s cab. Usually, though, he’d exhausted the f*ck out of them, and they had just enough energy left to pay him and send him on his way.

Which was part of the reason mornings with Spencer never got old. Even when Spencer had just been a client—and maybe that should’ve been Nick’s first clue that things were changing between them—the mornings had been low-key. Relaxing. Hell, they’d been enjoyable. And especially since they’d moved beyond rentboy/john, sometimes they lounged around in the mornings, especially if Spencer didn’t have to go off to work at some early hour. Or they’d shower together. If Nick woke up first and got into the shower, he’d invariably be towelling off when he smelled the delicious fragrance of whatever Spencer was cooking for breakfast down the hall.

This morning was no different. They’d separated during the night, as they often did, but as Nick stirred, and a moment later Spencer did too, they gravitated towards each other again. Nick wrapped his arm around Spencer like he had last night. Spencer slung his arm lazily across Nick’s stomach.

“So we have all day.” Nick kissed Spencer’s forehead. “Question is, what do we do with it?”

“Hmm. I guess your arm would get tired if you beat me all day.”

Nick laughed. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

Spencer chuckled. “Well, what do you think about going out?”

“Out?” Nick looked down at him. “Like, out where?”

“Don’t know.” Spencer lifted his shoulder in a sleepy shrug. “Go into the city. Get something to eat. I think the Tate has an Impressionist exhibit right now.”

They were really doing this? An actual . . . date?

“You sure you don’t mind being out in public with me?” Nick immediately wanted to take it back; he didn’t like the insecurity that had crept into his tone. He cleared his throat. “I mean, my clients are out there.”

Spencer pushed himself up onto his elbow and met Nick’s eyes. “Most of them would be discreet, wouldn’t they?”

“True.” Nick shrugged. “Most people don’t like advertising the fact that they’ve rented someone like me.” He reached up and touched Spencer’s face. “But they might recognize me.”

“Well, if we’re going to be doing this,” Spencer said, pausing to kiss Nick’s palm, “then people will see us out and about. They’ll have to get used to it, and so will we.”

Nick couldn’t find his breath. Of course they were dating, and Spencer had never judged him for being what he was, but his unflinching acceptance that people ought to just get used to seeing them together was . . . unexpected.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly. “I mean, I’d love to, but . . .” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re really okay with us being out together in public?”

“Of course.” Spencer smiled. “You’re my boyfriend. I’m not going to hide you.”

Nick swallowed. “Okay, then. What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Spencer shrugged. “Lunch and a visit to the Tate?”