If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)

Spencer did, and Nick looked at him intently, like this was terribly important. “Right now, you’re in a pretty weird place. Open doors and all that. You’re discovering what you really like, and that’s fine by me. I’m more than okay to train you. But the thing is, it’s intense. It can be really intense, and emotions get muddled. What’s lust and getting off on the pain can quite easily get mistaken for something more than that. I’m not saying ‘more serious,’ because that stuff is damn serious, but I know people who’ve made life decisions based on those feelings and ended up making mistakes. Do you understand?”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” Nick said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen it before.

I can be your Dom, but there’s no way in hell I’ll date you.”

Double ouch.

“Okay. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Just making sure you don’t end up in a bad place there, Spencer. I have to look after you. Part of the job. If I take you there, I have to make sure you’re safe and find your way back.”

“Sounds very . . . ethical.” It hurt a bit, but maybe Nick was right and this was the best moment to nip it all in the bud.

Maybe it was just flying high from the pain that felt similar to a crush or something even worse. The lust was a given, the emotional side . . . wasn’t. But with his normal everyday defences stripped, maybe it was just too easy to fall into that trap—to think this could be more.

“For the record,” he said, “I think people not dating you for your job are fools.”

The subtle grin broadened into a ful -blown smirk. “Well, you’re a lawyer. You would say that.”

Spencer laughed. “Come on, I don’t spew bullshit that badly. It’s not like I’m a defence lawyer.”

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Nick threw his head back and really laughed, which didn’t do a damned thing to build Nick’s case that this was all some instinctive response to being stripped down to raw vulnerability. God, he was gorgeous.

Spencer masked a shiver by turning onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “So when you say you’re willing to . . . train me? Be my Dom? What exactly does that mean?”

“It means you become a regular client.” Nick was all professionalism and negotiations again. “I’ll do what I did earlier and—” he winked, breaking out of that strictly business mode for a second “—what I still plan to do tonight, and let you sort out what you want, what you don’t want, and what kind of submissive you really are.”

Spencer rolled the idea around in his brain for a moment.

He’d never thought of himself as a submissive or a masochist, it had just happened—quite naturally—in Nick’s company.

He’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the idea of more. Pro? More sex with Nick. More of this insanely amazing pain. Maybe figuring out what the fuck it was he wanted in a man. Con? More sex with Nick. More of this insanely amazing pain. Quite possibly figuring out that what the fuck he wanted in a man was everything about this man.

“You’ll get a better grasp on it all as you go,” Nick said, eyeing Spencer like he could hear his thoughts, “and you’ll be able to tell where the physical ends. Because that’s all this is. It’s physical. There’s some deep psychological shit going on, and it’ll get even deeper and stronger, but it’s not what it seems like to you right now.” He trailed his fingers down Spencer’s face. “It’s the pain and the domination. Not me.”

“So you’re a mind reader?”

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“No. Just experienced.” Nick’s expression hardened. “And the one condition of this arrangement, if you want to sign up for it, is that it stays like this. You’re learning to enjoy pain and be a sub. I’m making money. End of story.”

Spencer considered it for a moment. Nick was probably right. He did know his way around all this crap. Spencer was a lab rat just stepping into a maze, and Nick had been through it enough times that he knew what he was talking about when he said “don’t go that way.”

“All right,” he said. “Strictly business, and strictly, uh, training.”

Nick hesitated, and then smiled. “Good. I think this will be fun.”

“I thought it was strictly business?”

“Yeah, well, Mr. High-Powered Lawyer.” He winked.

“Some of us actually enjoy our jobs once in a while.”

Spencer laughed.

Nick moved closer, and Spencer gasped when that slender hand drifted down his chest. “And speaking of which, I’m still on the clock.”

Spencer wanted to say “So you are” or something equally witty, but Nick’s hand slid over his cock and balls, and there was nothing left to say.

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Chapter


seveN


riday evenings became very nearly sacred. Spencer Fcounted himself lucky that Nick had the end of the week available, but Nick told him that most others preferred the weekend or even the middle of the week, so Friday had been for clubbing or going out. He never learned how many other subs Nick was training, though he assumed not too many— it was intense work; he couldn’t imagine Nick dealing with more than a handful.

And the subscription model worked for him. Now that the agreement was fixed, Nick gave him a discount, though Spencer made more money than he had time to spend it. It was more than worth it—the endorphin rush alone, but also what he learned about himself. How much pain he could take, that he could take pain at al , that he could face fear, that he could deal with sensory deprivation, locked away for hours with sweet torture.