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

think I bought it for?”
    Eyes back on task. As if the rest of him weren’t impressive enough,
    Brandon’s cock alone—a healthy handful, thick but not impractically
    long—would’ve made Jonathan drool. For once, he was actually
    tempted to bottom. But tonight he had other plans.
    He slid his palms up Brandon’s bare thighs, brushed teasing
    fingers through his pubic hair. Brandon moaned again, angled his
    hips, but Jonathan was careful not to touch him where he so clearly
    craved it. “Up,” he said, pul ing one hand away to tap at Brandon’s leg.
    “You’re half off the bed here.”
    Brandon rose up on his elbows and scooted fully onto the bed
    without a second’s hesitation, back coming to rest against a pile of
    pillows, head against the headboard. He spread his legs, watched
    as Jonathan crawled up between them. So gorgeous, so hungry for
    something Jonathan had an inkling he’d never experienced before.
    Hard to believe no one had taken the time to enjoy every delight this
    beautiful man had to offer.
    All that lovely skin, just begging to be kissed. Jonathan started
    in the middle of his chest and worked in circles, painting wet little
    curlicues with the tip of his tongue. Brandon let out a startled moan
    and brought up a hand to tangle in Jonathan’s hair. Jonathan’s first
    instinct was to shake it off again, but it was such a gentle touch he
    allowed it this time. Nothing wrong with a little give and take—
    within reason.
    “Jesus, you trying to tease me to death?” Brandon choked out.
    That strangled sound went straight to Jonathan’s cock. He could
    imagine Brandon making that noise again with his hands around his
    throat. It might frighten Brandon at first, but he’d loveit, the loss of
    air, the rush of blood, the dizzying delight at the first stolen breath
    when at last it came. The ecstasy of it al , a pleasure unveiled the likes
    of which he’d never known—
    Honestly, Jonathan, not exactly first-date material. Try not to make
    him think you’re a serial killer.
    He nuzzled into the hollow beneath Brandon’s col arbone, then
    glanced behind him with a smile. Eyed the handcuffs he always kept
    there, dangling discreetly from the bedposts.
    But maybe just a little taste . . .
    Lacing their fingers together, he slid Brandon’s right hand
    up the pillow, pressing a kiss to his parted lips, darting his tongue
    inside. Brandon arched up beneath him, fingers tightening around
    Jonathan’s own.
    Distraction achieved, Jonathan grabbed the loose end of the
    handcuff and snapped it over Brandon’s wrist.

    CHAPTER 3
    ran jerked from his lust-induced stupor at the first touch of
    cold steel on his wrist. “What the fuck ?” he shouted, shoving at
    Jonathan with his free hand and giving the cuff a hard tug. It didn’t
    budge. “Get this shit off me right now. I’m not kidding, pal.”
    “Easy, easy.” Hands out and open, Jonathan sat back on his heels.
    “Look, do you trust me?”
    “I don’t even know you! I never saw you before last night. First
    you shove your dick down my throat, now you’re chaining me to your
    bed?” He rattled the cuff again, jerked it so hard he hurt himself. Shit,
    still not budging.
    Jonathan swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached
    into the nightstand, pul ing out a little silver key. He laid it on the
    edge of the table, within easy reach of Bran’s free hand. “Go ahead
    and unlock yourself if you really want to. I won’t stop you. But . . .”
    Jonathan pointed at Bran’s crotch, and to Bran’s utter chagrin— What
    the fuck ?— he realized he was still hard. Throbbing, in fact, a bead of
    pre-cum dribbling down the aching crown of his dick.
    Jonathan leaned in to lick it off. Bran gasped, bucked his hips,
    and Jonathan parted those pretty red lips and swallowed him to the
    root.He threw his head back so hard he banged it against the
    headboard.
    Headboard . . . something about a key . . .
    Fuck it. Who could think anyway with