Snap.
The sound he forced back this time was a groan. As imaginary lines connected the stars, Spencer spun further into warm, red-dotted darkness. This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be this delirious from pain, and this oblivion shouldn’t be so inviting, but to hell with it— snap, snap, snap—he didn’t fight it.
All at once, the side of his face was covered by warmth, by softness, and the sudden touch—alien compared to the snapping evil stick—jolted him hard, violently, spectacularly, and his knees sagged beneath him. One light touch after all those bites, and he damn near came.
I don’t know what you’re doing, Nick, but don’t ever, ever stop. “You’re doing well.”
Those simple words of approval meant the world to Spencer. More than wrapping up a big job. More than happy clients congratulating him for ploughing through an acquisitions contract over an extremely long weekend powered by twice-brewed espresso and sheer desperation.
“Thank you,” Spencer muttered, and then flinched when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to speak.
His nipple burst into fire when Nick twisted it in retaliation. He cringed and writhed, and although the pain kept him centred in his body, somehow he was slipping away.
Life was incredibly simple right now, and nothing mattered beyond what Nick gave him. No thoughts anymore that he was cal ing the shots, that Nick was just hired help. Right 71
now, even that didn’t seem to matter, though it should have freaked him out.
Nick’s hand trailed down his front, and Spencer gasped for breath, expecting another slap or something worse, except now on his dick. Maybe he should beg for that not to happen?
But would Nick care, short of using the emergency exit of the word or the gesture?
Nick’s dry hot palm closed around his dick, jerked him a couple of times, and Spencer’s legs grew weak, especially when Nick’s hand slid up and squeezed the tip of his cock in the foreskin. Spencer’s knees nearly gave and he pushed into that hand in reflex.
“Please.”
The hand slid lower and damn near crushed Spencer’s balls.“Yes?”
Spencer tried to resist the urge to try to protect his balls.
The pain was oh so good when it stopped. “I want to feel you . . .”
“You are.” Nick twisted his hand around Spencer’s balls again, and Spencer whimpered.
“In . . . inside.”
Nick paused, moved somehow, but Spencer wasn’t sure what he was doing. Nick’s hand pushed something between his fingers. “Put that on me.”
A condom. Sweet fucking hell.
Spencer took it in both hands, but soon realised that opening a condom was more complex when he couldn’t see a thing, especially when his senses were still overloaded, the evil stick’s bites still tingling and burning to the point of distraction. And even when he’d pulled the condom from the torn packet, it was all much more complicated than it should 72
have been. Which way was the right way around? He reached to the side, where Nick stood, ran his hands along the leather trousers to get an idea of the geography, located the zip with one hand while he held the condom with the other. He twisted his arm enough to pull the zip down, and, oh wow, Nick didn’t wear any underwear. That thick cock nestled into his hand, and Spencer was tempted to pet and caress it, but that hadn’t been the order.
He was just glad that he did seem to turn Nick on. Or at least what they did.
He placed the condom on Nick’s cock, held it with one hand and rolled it down with the other, felt Nick’s fingers on his, adjusting the latex, making sure it was all in the right place.
“Down.”
Spencer retook his position against the bed and bent a little to level the difference in height. Opened his legs further so Nick had him where he wanted. Where they both wanted.
He heard the lube cap open and close, the wet sounds of lube being smeared on a condom.
Finally. Spencer clenched his eyes behind the blindfold and took a few slow, deep breaths. As Nick’s fingers slipped into his crack and found his anus, he took even slower, deeper breaths. Not nerves this time. Oh, hell no. He was so far beyond nerves now. Just need. Pure, white-hot need.
He reminded himself not to grit his teeth, no matter how impatient he was, because that would only make him tense up and prolong Nick’s careful but insistent prepping, sliding lubed fingers in and out of the ring, but never reaching far in.
Apparently satisfied Spencer was ready for him—which he was, oh God, he so was—Nick withdrew his fingers, and wiped them on Spencer’s thigh. He rested one hand on 73
Spencer’s hip, but not the other, and Spencer imagined it steadying Nick’s cock by the base. Steadying it. Guiding it.
Oh, fuck. There. Yes.
Nick pressed in, and Spencer pushed back, leaned back, wanting as much of Nick as possible and to hell with the pain.
“Patience,” Nick said, half teasing and half dead serious.
“We’re doing things my way, remember?”