Page 67 of Out of Control

“But an honest jerk. That’s why you trust me like no one else.”

Spencer’s entire being went still, then, and not just his hand, still gripping the velvet-covered steel of Drago’s erection. Cripes. The guy was right. He did trust Drago completely. He could be completely infuriating, and accomplished liar though he was, he had always been unfailingly honest with him. And he’d always had Spencer’s back.

Drago moved his hips impatiently against Spencer’s fist, and his dick slid between Spencer’s fingers, hot and hungry.

“Horny much?” he murmured.

“Pot, meet kettle,” Drago retorted.

“You’re the one with the hard-on in my hand.”

“Hah. You’re the one with the hard-on poking my asscheeks. Why don’t you turn that bad boy loose for once?”

“I thought I was supposed to make all the calls tonight.”

“Fair enough. I’m in your hands. Literally.”

A rush of lust tore through him, so powerful it almost made him come in his pants. Drago Thorpe was at his command? To do with what he wanted? He’d fantasized about this for so long he didn’t even know where to begin.

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking, Spencer. But I can physically hear your brain overloading back there. Talk to me.”

“I’m thinking about what it means that you’re doing this.”

“Don’t overthink it, dude. It only means I’m not letting you throw me under your psychological bus. You’re going to have to admit that you’re gay, horny, and hot for me before anything more happens here.”

“I’ve always admitted those things to you.”

“Are you sure you’ve admitted them to yourself?”

“Don’t overthink it, dude,” he echoed ironically. “Just because I didn’t run around fucking men doesn’t mean I haven’t been gay all this time.”

“I do not know how you did it—or didn’t do it, as the case may be.”

“It sucked. And it was hard.”

Drago wiggled his ass against Spencer’s crotch. “I can feel how hard it is. I’ll bet it’s like that all the time, isn’t it?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and tightened his fist around Drago’s cock until he gasped and lurched in Spencer’s hand. “You like it a little rough, do you?” he muttered in Drago’s ear.

“Honey, I’ll like it however you want to do it.”

Spencer’s breath roared in his ears as lust pounded through his bloodstream. He had to have this man.

Career be damned.

Professionalism be damned.

Common sense be damned.

He moved his fist up to the tip of Drago’s shaft and back down to the base.

“Maybe you should turn the old crotch rocket all the way loose from my pants,” Drago said a little breathlessly. “Just a suggestion.”

Spencer let go and fumbled at Drago’s belt buckle and zipper, then pushed at the fabric of the trousers. Drago helpfully lifted his hips so Spencer could push his pants and underwear down around his knees. Heated bare skin pressed back against him now. He’d always been fascinated by Drago’s ass. It was high and tight and proud—exactly the way an ass ought to be. He stroked it tentatively, appreciating the hardness of strong muscles.

He slid his palm across Dray’s hip and buried his fingers in the bush of curly hair from which that magnificent cock sprang. This time, though, his fingers slid lower, seeking and finding the sac beyond. He cupped Drago’s balls, which were heavy and full.

“And you harass me for being ready to explode. You must be in real pain, carrying these things around.”

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