If It Flies (11 page)

And fuck him up the arse. Which sort of makes it easier to

put up with their bullshit, you know?”

“Does it?”

“Sure. Say whatever you want, when I’m balls deep in you,

I’m in charge and we both know it.”

Spencer shivered. Oh, yeah. He did know it, didn’t he?

And he fucking well liked it and didn’t give a damn why. He

cleared his throat. “So, um, do you mind if I ask a personal

question?”

“Ask whatever you want. Price doesn’t include answers.”

“So is there any point in asking?”

“Maybe.” Another unseen shrug. “Just no guarantee.”

“Fair enough.”
Wonder how much guaranteed answers are
.

“How in the world did you get into this business?”

“It’s easy money.”

“Is it?”

“Week’s salary for a night of work? Sure is.” Nick traced

the line of Spencer’s nose down to his lips. “Spent lots of

time in various clubs. Sometimes, people offered me money.

Sometimes, I took it. Gathered some experience. Went ful -

time.”

“Just like that?”

Nick chuckled. “I wasn’t forced into it. I’m not a broken

kid who needs to be rescued, Spencer. I do what I do because

I’m good at it and it pays a lot.”

“Damn,” Spencer murmured. “There go all my clichés.”

“Not saying they don’t exist, but . . .” Nick shrugged again.

“I might upgrade to online porn someday, but the thing

is, I like to see who I’m dealing with, and the camera adds

performance stress. I don’t think this shit should be rushed.”

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Yeah, things like the petting and the . . . centring, for want of a better word—those needed time and patience. With a

camera, things were on the clock by the minute rather than

the hour, and he imagined that could quite easily go very

wrong. “So what’s this? A cuddle? Heart-to-heart?”

“You were flying so high, I had to bring you back down.

Aftercare.”

“Okay.” He felt good. Easy. Light. Relaxed. Deeper and

warmer than simple after-sex buzz. “I like this.”

Nick chuckled again. “I like all of it. The anticipation. The

build. The sex. And then this.”

“I imagine it might be different with a partner or a

boyfriend.”

He’d been fishing, and he knew it. Nick didn’t respond

immediately, so he’d noticed it too. And didn’t answer. Maybe

too close to home, too personal, or maybe a warning sign that

a customer was getting rather too interested.

When he finally did say something, it wasn’t exactly an

answer. “You seem to be single.”

“Yeah, the last one . . . transferred to the New York City

branch to work on acquisitions in Europe for American multi-

nationals. Great career step for him, but a long-distance thing wasn’t really feasible when both of us were fal ing asleep over a pile of files almost every night, anyway.”

“Ugh. I don’t know which would be worse: the job with

the pile of files, or the boyfriend with the pile of files.”

“Try both.”

“I’ll pass.” Nick touched Spencer’s face, and the tender

contact startled him until he realised Nick was just sliding off the blindfold. “Don’t need this anymore,” he said, and tossed

it on the floor in the general vicinity of his duffel bag. “So what’d you do? Date a co-worker?”

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“No. Same line of work, different companies.” Spencer’s

eyes took a moment to come into focus, but when he could

finally make out Nick’s smooth features, he said, “and both

brought work home at night.”

“Well, better than fishing off the company pier, but not

by much.”

“Tell me about it.” he said, “You ever do that?”

“What? Date people I work with?”

Spencer nodded.

“Fuck, no.” He absently reached down to fiddle with his

belt, squirming like he’d rested on something uncomfortable.

“Co-workers
or
clients.”

Well, damn.

The pang of disappointment smacked Spencer in the gut

harder than Nick had slapped his arse earlier. And what the

hell was that about? Disappointed that the prostitute he’d

paid for didn’t work for free?

“Do you date at al ?” Spencer asked.

“You find me a guy worth dating who’s willing to date a

whore, and we’ll talk.” The faintest hint of bitterness tinged the edges of his voice. Nick cleared his throat and quickly

said, “And I’d be bored to death with someone who fell asleep

on file folders every night.”

Ouch.

Spencer tried to come up with a defence like that he

wouldn’t take work home if he could have something so much

better (though he knew if he was ever going to make partner,

he likely would have to), then muttered, “I don’t think that’s inevitable.”

“Spencer.” Nick’s voice was firm, though kind, nothing

like that easily commanding game voice he used. “Look at

me.”

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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?”

81

“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.

82

Chapter

seveN

riday evenings became very nearly sacred. Spencer

F
counted 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.

It was odd that he felt his strongest while Nick hurt him.

Not
hurt
hurt, but that moment when the pain came in and receded, like a rol ing wave that bared treasure on the way

back—that moment felt always like he’d tapped into an inner

strength he’d never before touched or been aware of.

Odd that, especially since he felt so weak and fragile

immediately after the sessions. The next day, he was relaxed,

confident, and the day after
that
he started looking forward to the next appointment. He worked harder during the week so

he could slip out of the office on time and spend an hour or so getting ready, getting into the headspace.

83

Sometimes, he would order restaurant food and they’d

have a meal in his kitchen. Sometimes Nick would even

indulge in half a glass—never more—of red wine. They’d

eat, drink a little, and discuss what they’d do next. Spencer

loved the way Nick would lick red wine off his lips in between telling him what wicked plans he had for the evening. Like

most things Nick did, that never failed to turn him on beyond

reason.

Spencer learned to anticipate and enjoy the whole range

of sensation, from Nick gently slapping his face, to the

screaming agony of a cane and its deep purple bruise across

the arse. With pain that intense, he was just glad that his

house was semi-detached and the bedroom was on the far end

in an extension with no walls connecting to another house.

He screamed, and even gagged he screamed loud enough to

possibly disturb people.

But it was blessed relief when it was over, and Nick

soothed him and calmed him and gentled him for hours

while Spencer flew without a care in the world.

The body was a funny thing.

For three solid months, it was perfect. Well worth what

Spencer paid, whether it was taken out of his wallet or his

flesh.And then it all went to shit.

Spencer’s jaw still ached from the ball gag—man, did that

thing take some getting used to—and the immediate sting of

freshly-inflicted pain was slowly receding in favour of a dull throb, a warm ache.

Sometimes they didn’t fuck during a scene. Tonight was

one of those nights. Strange how the lack of an orgasm didn’t

leave Spencer unsatisfied at al .

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Nick looked at him with heavy-lidded bliss in his eyes.

Whatever it was Spencer got out of submitting and taking

pain, Nick obviously got it from topping and dishing out pain.

All he knew was that sex—even when it wasn’t technically

sex—was far beyond anything it had ever been.

“Maybe next week,” Nick said, slurring just a little, “I

should break out the single-tail.”