He strolled past the bar in the front lounge, and one of the bouncers held open the door to the back room. Spencer took a deep breath, set back his shoulders, and went into the shadowy room full of men like him and the most mouth-watering array of gorgeous prostitutes who were— Nick.
Double take. Triple take. No, it really was him. Sidled up next to some arsehole in a three-piece suit, chatting him up and probably getting ready to earn a few hundred quid.
Spencer had taken plenty of amazing beatings from Nick, the kind that left bruises and raised welts and drew screams from his throat, but the most pain he’d ever received from Nick’s hand was when it slid over the sleeved forearm of his next prospective client.
Spencer flinched and looked away. So that was that.
Whatever emotions had drawn Nick into that kiss and sent him running for the hills were obviously under control now.
Stowed away, maybe gone completely. Whatever cash Spencer would’ve paid, it could come from any man’s wallet. Back to strictly business and totally professional.
Well, all right. Nick wasn’t the only man in this room who’d take Spencer’s money.
He’d made himself way too vulnerable with all this. Percy did it exactly the right way. He didn’t harm anybody, he just had fun, paying people well. Live and let live. Fuck and let fuck. That was probably the best way to go about all this.
No wonder the pre-Nick Spencer hadn’t got laid in forever—he took everything too bloody seriously.
He could almost hear Percy’s affectionate mocking: “Looks like even the whores prefer the bad boys to a nice guy like you.”
Pushover. Doormat.
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Though at least he was a doormat with a pile of cash. And if Nick didn’t want to earn it . . .
Didn’t take long for someone else to approach Spencer.
He was older than Nick, tal , black, broad-shouldered, goatee, shaved head. Late thirties? Smoking hot.
“Looking for someone?” he asked.
Spencer almost glanced at Nick, but didn’t. “No one in particular. Care for a drink?”
The guy smiled at him and nodded towards the bar.
Spencer moved immediately, following the unspoken order.
He picked up the drinks and returned to the table where the other Dom had settled.
The guy nodded to him and took a sip. “Thanks.”
“Haven’t seen you around here,” Spencer dared, placing his own drink down. Of course, he’d only been here once, but . . . it was as good an icebreaker as any.
“Oh. I’m not a regular at this club,” the goateed prostitute said. “Just chilling after doing a workshop on Shibari.
Ropework.”
Spencer nodded. He and Nick hadn’t really done all that much restraining. Nick preferred Spencer to hold his positions by himself because he’d ordered him to, not because he couldn’t move. Getting somebody who’d tie him up in every way imaginable sounded perfect. Anything that was different from Nick—just to broaden his horizons.
His current non-Nick companion leaned over his drink.
“I assume you’re looking for something specific in here?”
“Well, I . . . it’s been a while since I’ve managed to relax properly.” He moistened his lips, once again resisting a glance in Nick’s direction. “Looking for someone to . . . relieve some stress.”
“A top?”
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“Absolutely.”
“Just a top?” The toothy grin made Spencer shiver. “Or something more aggressive?”
Yes, please. Oh God, please. Spencer shrugged. “I . . . That would suit me.”
The other guy reached out and touched Spencer’s chin, turned his head this way and that. “Ever had a Dom?”
This time, Spencer’s eyes did flick towards Nick, but he quickly looked back at this guy before he’d had a chance to focus.
The damage was done, though, and the goateed prostitute glanced at Nick. “Oh, you were one of Nick’s boys, were you?”
Spencer’s mouth went dry, and he just nodded.
“Good to know,” the other guy said. “Anything specific that you’re just dying to get?”
“I’m into pain. Really into pain.”
The guy smiled at him. “With Nick you’d have to be. How long did he train you?”
“Three months.”
“Enjoyed it?”
“Yes, sir.” This man’s authority was easy, relaxed, a hint of playfulness under the surface, like a tiger toying with a mouse.
Masculine—not like a character from Tom of Finland, but certainly inspired by. It pressed his buttons far more than the masked guy last week, and he was black, too, which made things easier since he didn’t have to deal with any biracial kink that easily freaked him out.
Nick never indicated he was into that.
Moreover, he could look this man in the eyes and look down, but only to show respect, not because he couldn’t bear to see the things he might have seen in another man’s face.
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The best part? He could almost forget about that leather-coated presence on the other side of the room. That alone would make this guy worth whatever he charged.
Spencer took a long swallow of his drink, and as it warmed his belly, he let out a long, relaxing breath.
Step one: Get the fuck over the prostitute who’s already moved on.
Mission accomplished.
As he took another drink, he glanced at this other Dom, who was watching him through narrowed eyes with the faintest of grins on his lips.
Step two: Find someone else.