If It Fornicates (Market Garden, #4)(9)
Nick licked his lips. “Over the bed.”
Spencer nodded. He stood faster this time—he’d only been kneeling a moment—and faced the side of the bed. He bent over it, placing his feet far enough apart to bring his hips down to a more accessible level for Nick.
Nick pulled in a breath as he approached his waiting sub. He loved this position with Spencer more than with most men. The power of it, the fact that even standing, he loomed over this taller, larger man.
This taller, larger man who was bent over, legs spread, ready and waiting.
He dug his fingernails into one arsecheek, making Spencer give just a small start, focusing his mind on the here and now, and only then pushed closer and positioned himself. Deliberately going slowly so as not to betray how much he needed Spencer—not just any guy, this one was much more—he pushed against the tight ring, easing it open enough to push deeper.
Spencer gulped down a breath that sounded suspiciously like “Thank God,” and Nick grinned, then raked his nails down Spencer’s other arsecheek as he pushed in. Spencer’s knees shook; the man always got unsteady when pleasure and pain mixed, as if he were being physically jerked between those two poles. In Spencer’s mind, both extremes hadn’t come quite together yet, but that was fine.
He pushed further, just enough to tease Spencer, then moved a little, thrusts so shallow he was most definitely nailing Spencer’s sweet spot. Spencer moaned and dug his hands into the mattress, pushing back, offering himself completely, as if Nick couldn’t already have him any way he wanted right now. But Spencer had that beautiful way to remind him, to express it, offering absolutely everything without demanding that Nick follow his lead.
Gradually, Nick’s thrusts went deeper, never breaking his rhythm. Nick stayed in control throughout, despite his own need clawing at him like a wild animal. When he got too much into the physical pleasure, he pulled out and then pushed all the way in, and repeated that a dozen or so times until Spencer was tonelessly begging. All Nick could really hear was a “ck” sound clicking deep in Spencer’s throat on every pant.
He thrust all the way in, buried himself to the hilt, gritting his teeth because it very nearly set him off. Feeling Spencer all around him, skin glowing in the light from the LED candles, was pretty f*cking special.
“Tell me, Spencer.”
“Please.” Spencer’s voice was rough as if he’d spent the last twenty minutes screaming. “I . . . Do anything you want with me.” Nick heard the other thing Spencer had almost said. I need you.
Being needed, wanted, surrendered to, was the best drug on the planet. Nick pulled away, then slammed forward, every thrust now hard and fast, brutal, which meant really tender, demanding, wanting, generous. He f*cked Spencer like he was the last man on the planet, and then felt him tighten and come, and f*cked harder into that tautness, hard enough to hurt, until his senses simply overloaded and he came inside Spencer.
“Good boy, well done,” he murmured near Spencer’s ear. “Imagine, soon I’ll come in you without a condom, and then I’ll plug you up and keep it inside you as long as I damn well please.”
Spencer gave a violent shudder.
“And you’ll try to get hard but you won’t be able to, because I’ll keep you locked up. All day, you’ll try, and it won’t work because I won’t let you. Your pleasure now belongs to me. Your hole, your cock, all mine until I’m done with you.”
He thrust into Spencer just to punctuate, then pulled free.
Three days. Two nights. All with Spencer. The weekend plus Monday. Wouldn’t that be a switch?
Nick still had to go in on Friday night, though. He was one of the in-demand rentboys; like Jared and Tristan, he had his own little fan club. Regular customers, some who’d paid enough over time that they could’ve bought themselves luxury cars in cash instead of blowing their wads on, well, blowing their wads.
And since Tristan and Jared were off tonight, there was no way Nick could also be gone. Couldn’t disappoint the clientele, of course. So here he was.
He leaned against one of the chest-high tables, a Coke beside him that was watered down from the melting ice cubes. Like all the other unoccupied rentboys, he watched the door. The rentboys were like grizzlies in a river tonight, watching and waiting for a salmon to jump right into their mouths. If someone came in who was worth Nick’s time and energy, he’d have to move in fast.
Nothing had piqued his interest yet, though. Earlier, one of those smarmy business types had strolled in here like he owned the place, and Nick had sauntered up to him because he’d liked the idea of being paid to f*ck that smirk right off his face. Guys like that inevitably turned out to be Nick’s favourite kind of bottom: the kind who started out cocky but ultimately begged and practically cried for more.
This one? Not so much. He wanted Nick to bend over and take it, for one thing. He wanted him to take it in the wallet too: only one hundred fifty quid? Fuck off, numb nuts.
So Nick was still here, and hadn’t yet earned his keep for the evening. He was patient, though. Biding his time until a thick enough wallet came in attached to a submissive enough guy willing to suck Nick’s cock and pay for the privilege.
“You look bored.”
Nick turned just as Tim, one of the not-so-kinky rentboys, appeared next to him. Nick shrugged. “Just haven’t seen anything I like yet.”