Facade by Zahra Owens Read Free Book Online Page A

his arms around Jonas’s neck and, aided by the fact they were still pressed against the wall, hitched his legs around the older man’s narrow hips. “Yes, I am.” He kissed him quickly. “I want to know everything! Now take me to the couch. Please?” Jonas, not easily caught off guard, grabbed Nicky’s buttocks and carried him down two steps toward a sitting area with a large, plush sofa, where he sat down with Nicky in his lap. Nicky looked down at him sheepishly. “So, the women you sleep with?” Jonas sighed. He really didn’t want to tell Nicky about that. “I thought you wanted to know about Clay?”
    “Oh yes, your Beverly Hills plastic surgeon who doesn’t like boobies!”
    Jonas rolled his eyes. “How old are you?” Nicky giggled. “As old as I want to be!” His face was softer, though, and he got up from where he was sitting. “Why don’t you get naked while I get us something to eat?” Jonas watched him leave. Nicky eating without being told to?
    He shook his head, quietly happy, and started taking off his clothes, hanging his jacket over a chair and carefully folding his pants. He was still unbuttoning his shirt when Nicky walked back into the semi-dark sitting room, carrying a large plate. He was naked as the Façade
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    day he was born, and Jonas could see the shadows play over his slender body.
    “Mmm, delicious,” Jonas moaned as Nicky brushed passed him, showing him the contents of the plate.
    “Yes,” Nicky acknowledged seductively. “And so is the fish.” Nicky placed the plate of fish on the table near the couch and walked around Jonas, their bodies somehow always touching.
    “You’re wearing a jock strap?”
    “Yes,” Jonas admitted. He tried to take his shirt off, but Nicky, leaning against his back, prevented that. “It makes your ass look better when you’re wearing a suit.”
    Nicky slowly lifted Jonas’s shirt away from his shoulders and let the older man pull his arms out. He threw it over the chair that held the rest of Jonas’s suit and wrapped his arms around Jonas’s torso. Jonas felt Nicky’s nimble fingers weave through his dusting of chest hair and down to his stomach so he leaned back, savoring the contact of the warm body behind him. He felt Nicky’s erection rub against his ass and a vision of being taken by the young man flashed before his eyes.
    “Am I turning you on?” Nicky whispered in his ear.
    “God, yes,” Jonas uttered, quite a bit louder. His eyes were closed, trusting Nicky. He was slightly surprised, then, to be pushed in the direction of the couch and made to sit down.
    He opened his eyes, looking up into Nicky’s defiant face.
    “Tell me the story of your plastic surgeon. Clay, right? Or at least that’s what we’ll call him.” Nicky was tempting him, coaxing him to lower his guard even more. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.
    Besides, you could be making it all up for all I know.” Jonas tried to keep his face neutral. He could do just that, make it all up, if he wanted to. Nicky was clearly in the mood for an erotic story, and he always catered to his client’s needs.
    “Clay’s in his thirties. Buff body, a little more muscled than you and I. Works out almost as incessantly as he works to sculpt the 40
    Zahra
    Owens
    bodies of all those Hollywood stars who need to look good on the red carpet. It was the start of awards season, the busiest time of the year for guys like him.” Jonas watched how Nicky straddled his thighs, the plate of raw and smoked fish in his hands. Nicky offered him a strip of smoked salmon.
    “Is he tall? Or one of those short, stubby guys?” Jonas enjoyed the taste of the fish, but eventually swallowed.
    “Tall, taller than you, and dark too, with short, unruly hair and beautifully bright eyes. Amber almost.” He watched Nicky eat, smiling because he was clearly enjoying it. He shared, though, feeding Jonas whatever he ate as well.
    “Handsome,” Nicky stated more than asked.
    Jonas