"Good to know," Lane growled and let off Spike's windpipe. Dragging him up with a hand fisted in his shirt, he moved off his legs and shoved him, face down, bent over the seat of a facing chair. With one hand on the back of his neck, Lane fit himself over Spike's body and pressed him down into the upholstery. Then he ground his own hard cock along the crease of Spike's ass, bringing one hand down on a buttcheek with a loud slap.