“Ful .” Spencer swallowed hard. “Exposed. Good.”
Nick pulled back maybe an inch and slid back in. The motion was heavenly, still slow, but at least the bastard was finally moving. Spencer tried to push into it, but his position kept him completely passive. He looked up into Nick’s eyes, and Nick nodded as if to say, “Well done.” And then he moved.
Fuck! Lesson learned.
Withdrawing, Nick pressed most of his buttons, but pushing back in, he pressed all but one: the “rough” one. Nick’s movements were slow, smooth, as focused and irrepressible as if he were a fuck robot. He did something pretty spectacular with the angles of his hips, too, sliding past Spencer’s prostate with every movement until Spencer was taut and tense and they were both glowing with sweat, no sound but the grinding, the rasp of skin against pubes.
In direct violation of what Spencer had claimed he’d wanted, Nick was slowly, methodically driving him up the wal , but hell, this was . . . this was something to be savoured.
You didn’t stuff your face with foie gras, either.
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Nick let go of Spencer’s legs, which meant Spencer had to adjust a little to keep comfortable. Nick slid his hands up Spencer’s abs, their slow, warm path complementing the cadence of his hips perfectly. They stopped just below his collar bones, and for a moment, they were just there. Not pressing down hard, not holding Spencer against the bed, just . . . there.
Spencer shivered, closing his eyes as his lower back lifted off the bed. If Nick had this much of an effect on him in super slow motion, he could only imagine what would happen if Nick pulled out all the stops.
The fingers resting beneath his col ar bones curled slightly.
The nails—those black-painted staccato nails Spencer could see in his mind’s eye—bit in enough to get his attention. Not hard, but a sharp deviation from all the smooth and the slick and the soft he’d had so far.
Nick’s hips picked up the pace, but not by much. Like the bite of his nails, just enough to draw Spencer’s attention, and it worked, because now his attention was evenly divided between the dick moving so perfectly in and out of him and the nails resting beneath his col ar bones.
The nails moved, digging in hard now and drawing ten red hot lines down Spencer’s chest. One went right over his nipple, and Spencer gasped, but Nick didn’t stop, and the intense burning only complemented the slow and sensual below his waist, and . . . and . . . holy fuck . . .
“Oh my God.” He couldn’t believe he’d even managed to speak. The nails continued past his ribs, onto his abs and sides, making muscles quiver and contract.
Halfway down his belly, the nails—fucking claws— started coming together, pul ing towards his navel.
Wait. No. Not his navel. Lower . . .
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His cock—which was plenty hard now—stiffened even more. His balls tightened. And the semicircle of sharp and burning just kept getting closer while Nick kept right on fucking. Spencer groaned, bit his lips, squirmed under the pain and the lingering burn, felt himself tighten around Nick, too, but it seemed to have no effect on the bastard. Or none besides a grin. Their gazes locked again, and there was bloody-minded determination in Nick and self-possession and a generous helping of sheer wickedness that made Spencer’s balls draw up.
Just don’t scratch my dick, he pleaded silently in his own head. Nick’s right hand lifted away, hovered close to his dick, making Spencer nervous enough that he broke eye contact.
And then Nick slapped his cock. Spencer very nearly jumped, because it fucking hurt . . . but the pain mellowed into a weird, weird burn, especially when Nick nailed his prostate at the same fucking time. Oh God. The guy would break him. Drive him fucking insane.
The other hand did the same thing, slapped him hard, making his dick bounce and smack his flesh, and Spencer tightened and got so fucking close. Nick thrust a few times hard and fast, overloading his brain with pleasure/pain and, as if in an afterthought, used one of those wicked hands to jerk him at the same time, fingernails raking the side of his dick.Spencer made a sound somewhere between pleading and shouting as the orgasm very nearly blew off the top of his head. It felt like he couldn’t stop coming, spunk covering his belly up to his chest as Nick’s insistent short thrusts milked him through the orgasm.
Oh God. Oh bloody hell.
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