Jonathan swallowing
around his dick like that? Jesus, didn’t the guy have a gag reflex?
Jonathan sucked him until black spots danced in front of his eyes.
Another second and it would’ve been all over, but Jonathan pulled
off just in time. Bran cursed, reached out for that thick dark hair—
And the handcuff rattled against the bedpost.
Fuck.
Jonathan sat back on Bran’s thighs and licked his swollen lips,
his grin as smug and filthy as a porn star thrusting out a twelve-inch
dick. He scraped one hand up Bran’s chest, fingernails first, to tweak a
nipple, and said, “Not yet, Brandon. I’m not finished with you yet.”
Why the hell did he keep cal ing him that? “Bran, not Brandon.
I told you before.”
“I refuse to call you something that gives me the runs.” A pause,
“Even if you are kind of—”
“Okay, okay! Don’t say it or I’m walking.”
Jonathan leaned over him to reach for the nightstand again, and
for one hot-cold moment, Bran thought he was cal ing his bluff,
grabbing the handcuff key and sending him on his way. But instead
he opened the drawer, pulled out a condom and a squeeze-bottle of
lube.“ Fuck yeah,” Bran said, eyes darting from the lube to the curve of
Jonathan’s thighs. “Ride me.”
The look Jonathan threw him at that could best be described as
Disapproving Schoolteacher. Didn’t even bother to correct him. Just:
“Spread those lovely legs of yours, if you’d be so kind.”
Suddenly that hot-cold feeling went completely cold. “Uh, wait a
minute. I haven’t bottomed in, like, years .”
Jonathan flipped open the lube and squeezed some onto his
fingers. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
“Yeah, right.” Bran rattled the handcuff. “This looks real gentle
to me.”
Jonathan nodded toward the nightstand. “There’s the key.”
Yup, there it was. But no way was he going home tonight without
getting off first. This smug little fucker owed him that much.
Which must have been permission enough for Jonathan, because
he elbowed Bran’s knees apart and thrust what felt like his entire
fucking hand up his ass.
“ Ow! ” Bran jerked back, cracked his head against the headboard
again. Jonathan’s fingers followed, still lodged firmly inside even as
he closed his legs, kicked at him. Jonathan captured his ankles one-
handed and pinned him with his body.
Bran struggled until he wore himself out. Couldn’t free his legs,
couldn’t even dislodge Jonathan’s fingers from his ass. Demanded
instead, “What happened to being gentle?”
“Sorry,” Jonathan said, batting completely un-sorry eyelashes at
him over his stupid fucking un-sorry Bambi-eyes. Then he pulled out
a fraction, crooked his un-sorry little fingers, and pressed .
Bran suddenly forgot what he was so upset about.
Holy fuck I’m gonna come, he’s not even fucking touching my dick
and I’m—
The fingers disappeared, and from a thousand miles away, a smug
little “Ah ah ah” floated round his head. “I said I wasn’t finished with
you yet.”
“Finish, then,” he growled. “For fuck’s sake, please .”
“Ah, there’s the magic word.” Jonathan hoisted up Bran’s knees,
settled his hips between them, and plunged inside.
Bran clenched his jaw on his shout— I won’t give the smug fucker
that. But Jesus, it hurt—for about thirty seconds, and then the sharp
stab of entry faded to a slow burn. He gritted his teeth until the
sensation eased into an ache that actually felt good. Too good. Every
thrust teased his prostate, made his own neglected cock bounce
against his belly.
“Jesus, touch me.”
“You’ve got a free hand,” Jonathan huffed, not even breaking
rhythm, “Go ahead and use it.”
He would have, but it was wrapped around the other bedpost, right
beneath the dangling handcuff. How the hell had that happened?
Before he could think too hard about that, Jonathan’s fingers
wrapped around his dick and drove all the