Chapter 4

But Colby was the one in control. One tap of bound hands at Jason’s leg would stop everything, because Colby had asked for this and needed it, because Jason’s heart and body and soul belonged to Colby Kent and always would.

So he’d do anything Colby asked. Because he was Colby’s. Here to give Colby pleasure, for the rest of their lives.

He thrust harder in the wake of that thought, that recognition. Instinctive reaction, inadvertent.

Colby took it, eyes full of joy. Surrender laced every long line of his body: dreamy, blissful, secured by Jason’s hands and orders and command of him. His lips were wet and pink, and his eyelashes were damp too, darker and framing luscious blue.

Jason whispered, “I want you, Colby, I love you,” and fucked his mouth, used his mouth, made him feel it: all the way to the hilt, Colby’s lips at the base and Colby’s throat working around him. So good, so incredible—heat and sweetness and the heady intoxicating knowledge that Colby wanted this, wanted him—