“It’s just . . . a good size for me.”
“Hmm.” Nick eyed the toy, turning it and tilting his head to one side, then the other, inspecting it like he was a goddamned customs agent or something. For the first time tonight, Nick’s gaze was fixed somewhere other than on Spencer, but Spencer still felt more conspicuous than he ever had in his life.
Part of him wanted to demand to know when they would be through with the games and could get on to what he’d paid for. But as he watched Nick sizing up the dildo like an executioner picking out a weapon, he had a feeling this was what he’d paid for. Not just getting fucked, but getting mindfucked.
“Show me,” Nick said again, and held the toy out.
He blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“Show me.” The hand holding the dildo bobbed once, as if to draw Spencer’s attention to it. “Put some lube on it, and show me.”
I thought I was paying for you to fuck me, not a toy I already bought.
33
Which totally explained why he took the toy back from Nick and was already reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. The bottle of lube next to the condoms which hopefully symbolised a promise that he’d be getting fucked tonight with something that wouldn’t go back in his drawer.
Lube in one hand, retina-searing blue fake penis in the other, he looked up at Nick. “I . . . is there a . . .” Articulate. I swear to God I am articulate. He cleared his throat. “Is there a particular position?”
Nick pursed his lips like the question required substantial thought. That in and of itself was mildly alarming—and more than a little intriguing—because knowing him, he might ask Spencer to dangle from the chandelier in the hal way or something. There was some twisted shit behind those eyes.
Twisted shit that would have had Spencer saying “yeah, no, I don’t think so” any other night, but for some reason, tonight it excited him as much as it unnerved him.
“On the bed.” Nick nodded sharply towards it. “On your back with your arse at the edge so you won’t have to move when I’m done watching you.”
His hand left Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer stood, grimacing as his knees reminded him how long he’d been down there.
How much time did they have left, anyway?
He glanced at the alarm clock. Still a good hour and a half.
Plenty of time for Nick to fuck both mind and arse. Probably multiple times apiece.
“On your back on the bed,” Nick repeated, as if he’d forgotten.
Spencer swallowed. He sat on the edge of the bed, and ordered his hands to be steady and confident as he poured out some lube and put it on the toy. They shook more than he liked, so he worked faster to hide his nerves. Or maybe 34
he should’ve let them show; Nick seemed to get off knowing he’d pushed a button or three.
When the toy was good and slick, Spencer lay back across the mattress. This was an awkward position—by fucking design, no doubt—but he managed, parting his legs and bracing his heels on the frame for support. He looked up at the ceiling. That was a lot easier than focusing on the half-naked prostitute watching him so intently. A lot easier, maybe, but not enough to completely negate the strangeness of lubing up his own arsehole while someone watched. Especially when it was at the order of that puzzling voyeur.
A finger to get started. A second to get him ready for the larger toy. He usually liked to draw out this part, enjoying every step between the first touch of lube and the eventual toe-curling orgasm. But then, he wasn’t usually on the clock.
And his heart wasn’t usually beating like this, pounding against his ribcage with pre-emptive fear that Nick would get impatient.
The bed shifted slightly. Or rather, something pressed against it just enough to make the frame issue a faint protest.
Spencer turned his head. Nick was leaning against one of the posts at the foot of the bed, pressing his shoulder into it, arms folded across his bare chest as he watched Spencer fuck himself with two fingers.
Nick’s eyes flicked up and met Spencer’s. A grin played at his lips. He unfolded his arms, and when one hand moved downwards, the gesture was too slow and deliberate not to hold Spencer’s attention. Especially not when Nick casually brushed his hand over the very pronounced bulge beneath his leather pants.
Spencer bit his lip.
35
Nick grinned. Then he lifted his hand away from his groin and gestured at Spencer. “You were going to show me something, yes?”
Ignoring him was no longer an option. Or pretending he was really doing this because it had been his own idea. Or . . .
anything but what it was. He had paid company, and the guy was watching him.
Though, crazily enough, it felt good to turn Nick on, to get a professional sex worker excited. He shook his head, tried to focus on the task at hand (as it were), and changed his grip on the dildo. God, he was glad he hadn’t picked the steel one.