by Ella Frank
Logan turned his head against the door and looked at Tate’s face. “You better not be teasing me.”
“I wouldn’t tease about this.”
“Okay then. But not here. Where’s your bedroom?”
“You don’t want me on my knees?” Tate half-joked.
Logan’s arousal intensified as he stared back at Tate. “More than you know, but not your first time.”
As Tate stepped away, Logan shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt and tossed it on the floor as he moved away from the door toward the man who was now walking backward down the hall.
Tate was boldly adjusting the obvious erection he had, and Logan was quickly coming to like this new confidence in him. It was as if Tate could finally do whatever he wanted because he’d given up on denying how he felt.
Logan’s eyes didn’t leave him as they continued through the tiny apartment. With each step back that Tate took, Logan was advancing toward him. Tate reached down and removed his shirt, tossing it aside, much like he had.
Logan had to physically hold himself back. He let his gaze wander over what had just been exposed, and when Tate’s back hit what he presumed was his bedroom door, Logan suggested, “Let me in.”
Tate didn’t speak or move, but watched as Logan began to unbutton his jeans.
“You did more than this last night,” Logan reminded him quietly, just in case he was having second thoughts.
That wasn’t the case though as Tate turned the handle and pushed the door open.
“I know. I’m looking. Don’t fucking rush me.”
Logan stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest and face-to-face.
“You can look all you like—in there. Now, invite me into your bed, Tate.”
“You need an invitation?” Tate slid his palm over Logan’s tense abdomen and lower still to slide into his open jeans.
“I want one. I want you to invite me into your bed.”
As Tate’s hand found him, Logan’s mouth opened and a hoarse sound left his throat.
“Logan? Please get in my bed—now.”
Logan wrapped an arm around Tate, grabbed his ass hard, and walked the man backward into his room. He saw the bed, but he would be damned if he was going to get into it still wearing his jeans.
Releasing his hold on Tate, he stepped away, kicked off his shoes, and made quick work of removing the denim and boxers that were left covering him. When he was completely naked, he brought his eyes back to Tate, expecting the same from him. But no, Tate was standing exactly where he’d left him, except now, he was kneading his erection through his jeans as he took in the sight before him.
Not wanting to take anything away from Tate’s intimate inspection, Logan reached down and began his own exercise in self-pleasure.
Last night had been quick and overwhelming. It had been a big whirlwind of Logan pushing Tate along, and in the end, getting spectacular results. Tonight though was all Tate and whatever he decided, and as Logan stood in front of him, he could tell the difference in the look Tate was aiming his way.
The desire etched into the tense expression was that of a man who was looking at and lusting after someone he craved. Not someone who was confused about his feelings. Logan went to move, but Tate raised a hand and stilled him.
“No. Don’t. Let me look.”
That quietly determined request almost brought Logan to his knees. Tate stepped to him, and reached out a tentative hand and Logan felt Tate’s fingertips connect with his nipple. Balling his left hand into a fist by his side, he continued to stroke his other hand over his aching shaft.
“Are they sensitive?” Tate queried.
“Yes.”
“Do you like me touching them?”
“Mhmm,” Logan hummed.
Tate glanced at what his fingers were touching before he aimed those hot eyes back at Logan. “Licking?”
“Are you asking me if you can?”
Tate nodded. “Yeah.”
Logan hoped he had the patience he would need to get through this night of what he figured would be discovery for Tate, and torture on him.
“Tate?”
“Hmm?”
“You can touch whatever you want, do whatever you want.”
“What if you don’t like it?”
Logan held himself back from telling Tate he was insane. “Trust me, I will.”
Gently, as though he were testing the waters, Tate skimmed his fingers down over Logan’s nipple, across his pec, and then traced his ribs farther south to the V of his groin where he flirted lightly.
“This really turns me on,” Tate admitted.
“You touching me there is really turning me on. You have it as well, see,” Logan pointed out as he indicated the spot where Tate’s jeans sat low.
“Yeah, but yours are so defined.” Tate lifted his free hand to trace the other side until his fingers were touching Logan’s pubic hair. “I never thought I’d be so turned-on by another man’s body.”
Logan released the hold he had on himself and clasped the back of Tate’s neck, hauling him forward and pressing their mouths together. Logan grunted when he felt two hands wrap around his erection. As his tongue touched Tate’s, Logan propelled his hips into the hands holding him, and his body shuddered when one of those hands moved to fondle his balls. Tearing his mouth away, Logan panted as he dropped his head back to concentrate on the hands finally learning his body.
* * *
I can’t stop touching him, Tate thought as he stroked the turgid flesh in his hand and played with the soft, tight sacs scrunched up against Logan’s body. Lightly, he pressed his lips to a spot Logan had exposed at the base of his neck when he let his head fall back.
Logan’s body was unreal. He had muscles on top of muscles, and the evidence of his desire excited Tate to the point where he could feel his own body begging for release.
When Logan had stripped down and Tate had finally allowed himself that moment to really take in and desire everything he was seeing, he’d thought he would come right there in his jeans.
He couldn’t explain why, but now that he’d decided exactly what he wanted—and that was definitely Logan—Tate wanted him, bad. He wanted to touch him with his hands, taste him with his mouth, and—yes—fuck him with his cock.
As that final thought entered his mind, Tate took his hands from Logan’s body and heard Logan offer a soft protest against his lips. Removing his mouth as well, Tate took a small step back and walked around Logan until he was standing behind him.
Tate watched the hands by Logan’s thick thighs clench. He had the power to really drive this man, who everyone wanted, out of his mind. Tate placed his hands on Logan’s hips and pulled him back, so his naked ass was against the erection constricted in Tate’s jeans.
“Oh shit,” Logan rasped as Tate rolled his hips against him.
“Can I change my mind?’
“What?”
Logan’s entire body went taut against him. Tate knew what Logan was thinking, but he was so very wrong.
“Can I change my mind?”
“About what? Because if you’re about to stop and tell me to leave, take your goddamn hands off me, and let me go, so I can calm down.”
Tate didn’t do any of that. Instead, he put his lips against Logan’s naked shoulder and smoothed his hands around to trace that sexy V down to Logan’s ready and willing cock. Stroking a fist up Logan’s enlarged length, Tate bit the shoulder under his mouth, hard, as he bucked his hips forward.
“Ah, what the hell?”
Raising his head, Tate put his lips to Logan’s ear and confessed in a voice full of guttural desire, “I don’t want to suck you tonight. I want to fuck you instead.”
Chapter Sixteen
Logan physically stopped breathing as Tate’s words seeped into his brain. It didn’t matter that warm hands were still tormenting him. With the distinct impression of Tate’s arousal outlined to perfection against his naked ass, all Logan could think about were the words, I want to fuck
you, coming out of Tate’s mouth.
“Nothing?”
Logan heard the question in Tate’s voice, and it was the truth. He had nothing. Nothing he could say. Never in a million years had Logan thought that this would happen tonight. He’d never expected Tate to want it so quickly. Logan had thought it was going to take a lot of convincing on his side.
“If you don’t want…”
Logan finally made himself turn to face the man who seemed to be second-guessing himself.
“I thought you—”
With one hand, Logan touched his fingers to Tate’s cheek and leaned in to take his mouth. As soon as their lips met, Tate’s parted, and Logan dipped his tongue inside. Stepping closer, he rested his other hand on Tate’s side as the kiss intensified, and desire mounted.
Logan could feel the rough denim abrading his skin as his cock wedged between them, and Tate’s remained confined inside his jeans. Logan pushed his hand down and grappled with the button and then lowered the zipper, all the while still sucking on Tate’s tongue.
Logan parted the jeans, and slid his palm around Tate’s waist, where he dipped his fingers inside his boxers. When Tate’s hands grasped his ass cheeks, Logan smiled against his mouth and made sure to stroke a finger down the warm crease of Tate’s crack.
“Ah,” Tate moaned, pulling his lips away.
“You see,” Logan told him knowingly as he did it again, and Tate’s ass cheeks flexed. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Relax, it’ll feel even better.” He felt Tate’s body physically loosen.
Tracing his finger farther down, he moved back in, so he could gnaw on Tate’s jaw. Logan placed his lips under his chin, and then he did as Tate had done earlier. He started to bite him.
The hands on his own ass were shaping the muscle there as Logan made his way up to Tate’s ear, telling him, “Nothing in the world could make me walk out of your bedroom right now. So, if you really mean it, then you can have it, Tate.”
“Yes. I mean it.”
Logan’s eyes slid closed for a second as he tried to calm himself, but Tate was hell bent on that not happening. The strong fingers behind Logan crept between his cheeks and began to spread him slightly. Feeling his own patience running thin, Logan asked, “Condoms? Lube?”
But Tate wasn’t listening. He was too busy moving his hips against Logan, who was quickly going out of his mind as the erotic massaging continued. Tate began making a sexy grunt-like noise every time their cocks met.
“Tate?”
Glazed eyes found his, and when swollen lips and wild curls faced Logan, he felt his mouth turned up into a smug smile. “You’re one sexy motherfucker when you’re turned-on, you know that?”
“So are you,” Tate voiced in a tone that had dropped several spine-tingling octaves.
“Mmm. Do you have condoms? Lube?”
Tate released his hold on him and shook his head. “I didn’t even think about it. I have lube.”
“And I’ve got condoms.”
The look that crossed Tate’s face was amusing as hell, and Logan turned to locate his jeans.
“That sure, huh?” Logan heard from behind and rounded back just in time to see Tate push his jeans and boxers off his hips and kick them aside. Logan focused on the thick, veiny erection pointing out in front of Tate’s body, and he felt his ass clench in anticipation of having it inside him.
One of the things Logan had missed over the years was a good, hard, fucking. He’d only ever received it from one other before, but as he looked at Tate, he was reminded of the times Tate had wrestled with him and pinned him against a wall. Yes—if anyone could take him on and make him feel it a day later, it would be Tate Morrison.
* * *
Tate walked over to where Logan was holding out the condom packet, took it between his fingers, and issued his invite from earlier, much more confidently this time, “Get in my bed, Logan.”
“Feeling bossy, are we?”
Tate brought the silver square to his mouth where he placed the corner between his teeth and ripped it open. “Horny,” he answered as he pulled out the condom, threw the pack aside, and reached down to roll it on. “I feel horny.”
He noted Logan’s heavy-lidded gaze following the movements of his hand, and then Logan stepped forward and brushed past Tate. As their shoulders touched, Tate looked to the side where Logan had stopped, his mouth pulling into a wicked, sensual smirk.
“You work out at all?”
“Sometimes,” Tate told him, slightly confused, as he watched Logan’s eyes trail down his body and land on the protected stiff cock he was holding in his hand.
“Good, because fucking me is gonna be one hell of a strenuous workout.”
Tate almost came from those words alone as Logan casually walked by him. Turning on his heel, he watched Logan climb up onto his bed, the same bed he had lain in over the last several nights, fantasizing about the guy.
Logan lay down on his back in the middle of the mattress and bent his knees up until his feet were flat, and Tate could see everything, just as he had the previous night. As Tate got up onto the bed and maneuvered himself in between Logan’s knees, he was struck again by just how masculine Logan was. He even had big feet.
Seems there is some truth in that saying—big feet, big cock.
Logan’s erection was thick and long, and as Tate watched the man masturbate in front of him, he couldn’t help but reach down and reciprocate the gesture.
“Let’s skip all the bullshit this time around, huh?” Logan’s words sliced through the silent room.
“Bullshit?”
“Yeah, all the foreplay. You’re hard, I’m hard, and I’ve been thinking about you naked since we first met.”
Tate’s balls tingled as Logan slowly spread his legs for him. He could see Logan’s hand working his shaft, and occasionally, his fingers would move to the sensitive underside to his balls where he’d cup and push them up his body. From this angle, Tate could also see the dark pucker displayed to him every time Logan moved his hips.
“So, how do I do this?”
Logan gave him a look that screamed, Really?
So, he clarified. “I mean, is there something I need to do, so I don’t…you know, hurt you? This will hurt, right? Diana always said—”
“Stop, stop! You’re making me lose my hard-on. No one else is in here, Tate.” Logan sat up in the bed, bringing his knees under him, and leaning forward, he captured Tate’s mouth in a hot kiss. “Just you and me. I’ll show you what to do, so you don’t hurt me.”
Tate rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay.”
“Get the lube.”
As Logan lay back down, Tate moved to the side of the bed and reached down to a small drawer. Coming back up on his knees, Tate let his eyes rove up the six-pack rippling with each movement of the strong arm pumping back and forward.
“Remember last night?” Logan asked.
Tate’s eyelids lowered as his own cock lurched, and he grasped it, pressing it against his body.
“Not something I’m likely to forget.”
Logan widened his legs a little more. “I need to get ready before you come at me with that,” he pointed out, glancing at what Tate was holding.
Tate nodded and lowered his eyes to Logan’s sac and the light sprinkle of hair on the skin leading down to the dark hole. Damn, I really want inside there, Tate thought, and before he knew it, he was asking, “Can I do it?”
* * *
Logan had hoped, maybe even silently prayed, that Tate would say exactly those words.
“Definitely.”
From where he was lying on the bed, he watched Tate scoot in closer and pour the cool, clear liquid into his palm. He was so aroused by the thought of Tate’s fingers in him that he was in danger of once again shooting his load before the real fun started.
When Tate threw the bottle aside and leaned over him, Logan’s hand stopped as Tate’s fingers lightly grazed up the underside of his engorged length.
�
��Let me,” Tate requested.
Logan released his hold immediately. Sliding his fingers through Tate’s hair, he pulled him down until their mouths met. As soon as those slippery fingers encircled him, Logan’s hips lifted up off the bed as though he had been shocked. The mouth against his curved into a smile, and that sexy confidence Tate was throwing his way turned him on even more, if that were possible.
Pushing his tongue between Tate’s lips, Logan’s body heated as the hand between their bodies pumped faster. He could feel Tate’s own arousal pressing straight and upright against him, and as Logan moved to return the caress, the body plastered against him shook, and Tate raised his head to stare down at him.
“More, I want more than this,” Tate rasped.
Logan lifted his head from the pillow and chewed on Tate’s swollen lip.
“You need to stretch me with your fingers, just like last night.”
Logan tried to contain his excitement as Tate’s eyes darkened in erotic concentration as he slowly released him. With dexterous fingers, Tate coasted them down the sensitive crevasse until they were pressed firmly against Logan’s hot and eager hole.
Logan’s breathing was coming in short, quick bursts as Tate’s tongue came out to touch his top lip, and Tate continued looking down at him, focused and intense, as he slowly slid his left index finger inside him.
“Tate,” Logan hissed out between his teeth, closing his eyes against the intrusion.
Then, Tate’s deep voice ordered, “Open your eyes.”
Immediately, Logan focused on Tate, who was giving him such a fiery look that he wasn’t sure how the hell the tables had turned on him.
“This feels good? Having my finger in you?”
“Hell yes, a second would feel even better,” Logan assured him through labored breaths.
Tate pulled his finger back and then pushed forward. This time, he allowed his finger to go as far as he could possibly get it, making Logan’s hips snap up and off the bed on a curse, “Fuck.”
“That’s the plan.”
A small huff escaped Logan’s throat, and when Tate pulled his hand back and his finger left Logan’s body completely, the man lowered down over him and took his mouth in a quick kiss.