Rachel Haimowitz & Cat Grant - [Power Play 1] Read Online Free PDF

you?”
    The elevator dinged before Jonathan could summon up a suitably
    pithy reply, the doors gliding open on his foyer. He slipped an arm
    around Brandon’s waist and led him inside.
    Brandon took two steps and froze, eyes tracking from the marble
    tiles to the crown molding to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking
    the bay. “ Jesus ,” he whispered, pacing slowly toward the nearest wal ,
    running reverent fingers over a seascape mural, a framed Tomasz Rut
    original. “Jesus,” he said again, and then, turning to run those fingers
    over Jonathan’s smooth cheek, “Bedroom. Where is it?”
    Jonathan took his hand and tugged him down the hal way.
    Lights flicked on ahead of them and blinked out behind them as they
    stumbled toward the bedroom. Brandon looked back at the living
    room, now lit only by the built-in reef tank that divided the living
    room from the office, and said, “Fancy,” but seemed to give it no more
    thought.
    They crossed into the bedroom and Brandon started to pull off
    his jacket. Up came Jonathan’s hands to stop him.
    “What is it with you?” Brandon demanded. “I can’t touch you,
    can’t undress myself. You won’t blow me. What d’you want me to do,
    just stand here and let you yank my hair out of my scalp?”
    The smile slid off Jonathan’s lips to be replaced with something
    softer, more sensual. “Relax,” he murmured, stepping forward to
    smooth his palms up Brandon’s chest. “Let me take care of you.”
    Brandon bristled beneath his touch. “I don’t need —”
    “I know you don’t.” Jonathan dropped one hand to Brandon’s
    crotch, cupping him gently. “But isn’t it fun sometimes?”
    Brandon half-whimpered, half-moaned, and dropped onto the
    edge of the bed, legs splayed. Jonathan leaned in to straddle his lap,
    dusting a kiss across his lips before reaching down to unbutton all
    those layers. God, why did I buy him a three -piece suit again? “See?
    Isn’t this better than some back alley?”
    Brandon’s lips twitched. “Better than kneeling in a puddle.”
    Jonathan pushed Brandon’s shirt, vest, and jacket as one down
    to his elbows, exposing miles of farmer-tanned skin sprinkled with
    freckles almost the same shade as his hair. Hard to resist the urge to
    play connect the dots with his teeth; he settled instead for running
    lips and tongue over flat planes of muscle—the top of a pec, a bared
    shoulder, a beautiful triceps. Michelangelo’s David.
    Perfect.
    He slid the top layers off completely, then nudged Brandon in
    the chest until he got a clue and lay down. Jonathan followed with his
    lips, tasting the ridges of Brandon’s stomach, the sparse ginger happy
    trail, the impressive bulge straining at the suit pants. Brandon’s hands
    settled in his hair—not pul ing, not threading, just restingthere—
    but Jonathan shook his head and said, softly, “No.”
    Brandon returned his arms to his sides. Jonathan had known he
    would.
    Back to Brandon’s pants. Jonathan pulled the tongue of the belt
    from the buckle with his teeth, fingers busy tickling tracks up and
    down Brandon’s flanks. Brandon gasped, squirmed beneath him.
    “Fuck, Jonathan,” he moaned, hips thrusting up as Jonathan rubbed
    his cheek against Brandon’s trapped cock. “Come on . . . ”
    “Patience.” A smile as he pulled Brandon’s belt through the loops.
    It slithered into his hand, and for a moment he couldn’t help but
    imagine the sound that soft Italian leather would make against the
    pale expanse of Brandon’s back, that perfect ass, Brandon gasping
    and writhing and begging beneath him.
    God, what lovely marks it would make.
    But not now. Not yet.
    It would probably help to get him out of his pants first. Button
    undone, zipper down, he hooked his thumbs in Brandon’s belt loops
    and tugged them down, silk boxer briefs and al .
    Brandon flashed him a crooked smirk. “I just got this suit, and
    now you can’t wait to get me out of it?”
    “What do you