by Ella Frank
Logan’s hands came up to cradle Tate’s face, as he aggressively took the lips pressing against his while Tate rubbed his sheathed rod over him. With lust riding them both, Logan panted against those lips, “Move back a minute.”
As soon as the words were spoken, Tate was back on his knees, and Logan maneuvered himself until he was on his stomach and then pushed up onto his hands and knees. Looking over his shoulder, he found Tate’s eyes on his ass while he desperately milked his cock. Logan hung his head for a minute, trying to get himself under control. Once he figured he was good to go, he looked back again, and this time, his stare was met, so he asked, “You okay?”
Tate moved in behind him and ran his finger down the crack of Logan’s ass until he reached the hole.
Oh shit.
“Yes. Just looking,”
Ah, pretty fucking sure you’re touching, too. Logan grabbed himself with his right hand and tried to keep a handle on his instinct to turn around and attack.
Giving Tate a wink, he issued a strained invite, “Two fingers would be amazing right about now.”
Tate pressed the tips of his fingers to Logan’s vulnerable skin. As he eased them inside him, a whistle of air left Logan, and he couldn’t help from pushing back against them.
“Oh yeah,” he barely voiced.
Tate’s fingers tunneled in and out of his body.
It had been a long time since Logan had really been taken, but that didn’t stop him from using other means to get himself off, and at that moment, he was glad he hadn’t been lax in reminding himself how much he loved receiving.
Occasionally, and by sheer accident, Tate’s fingers grazed over that magical fucking spot, and a hoarse snarl would leave Logan as he pushed back even harder on the two fingers that were knuckle deep, and driving him fucking crazy. That, however, was no longer enough. Logan wanted the thick shaft he could see every time he looked back over his shoulder to Tate.
Fucking gorgeous Tate, had a look of arousal mixed with first-time curiosity stamped all over him. It was obvious though by the strength and size of his own erection that the arousal was winning out, and as Logan felt those fingers pull from his body, getting ready to plow back in, he finally snapped.
“Now, Tate,” he demanded on a growl. “Now.”
* * *
Tate heard the demand from Logan and realized, This is it. This was the moment he crossed every line. The man in front of him on his hands and knees was spectacular to look at. There was not one thing about him that would allow Tate to confuse the fact that he was in bed with—and about to fuck—a man, not a woman.
The arm holding Logan up was bulging with muscle, as was the one flexing with each stroke he made to his own cock. The legs, dusted with dark hair, were bent, allowing him to kneel before Tate. Strong muscles rippled across his shoulders with every move back towards him, reiterating that there was nothing soft or delicate about this man. As Tate picked up the bottle of lube again, he poured some onto his eager erection, and then spread apart the solid cheeks of Logan’s ass and made sure his dark hole was nice and slick as he waited for him.
Damn, this is different. Who knew that staring at Logan while he was stroking his cock would make me so fucking excited that I could come in seconds? But no, he thought as he tightened a hard fist around his own balls, I really want to know how it feels inside him.
Tate noticed that when Logan spread his knees a little wider apart, he angled the top half of his body down toward the mattress, curving his hips and ass back to him.
Touching a hand to Logan’s hip, Tate asked, “You okay?”
But Tate had no clue what the hell he was checking for. Logan had been here and done this.
I’m pretty sure he’s A-OK. It’s me who’s the new guy.
Logan looked back at him and licked his mouth. “Yeah, Tate, I’m real good. Just go slow. Okay?”
Slow. I can do slow. Tate smoothed his hand over the firm ass in front of him and spread the cheeks apart. Once he saw what he wanted, he reached down with his left hand and lined himself up.
As the tip of him touched Logan’s rim, the heat from his body penetrated the latex, and Tate closed his eyes from the intensity of that small moment. Then, very carefully, he began to move. The head of his cock met with the resistance of Logan’s body, and just when he was about to pull back, he felt the powerful man in front of him drive his entire body backward. Tate’s cock slid past the ring of muscle, and he almost swallowed his fucking tongue at the toe-curling pleasure he got from it.
Letting out a loud curse, Tate froze, trying to rein in the desire to surge forward as Logan started to work his way back on him. He kept one hand around himself while Logan’s ass slowly engulfed more of his shaft, and as Tate watched himself disappearing inside Logan’s body, he felt as if he’d never been as turned-on as he was right then.
“Holy hell,” he whispered like a prayer.
Logan changed directions to slide back off him, and then he started to take him inside once again. With each movement, Logan’s body swallowed him deeper until Tate was finally fully seated, and his balls were pressed firmly against Logan’s heated skin.
Tate remained still as a fucking statue until Logan looked back at him. “Now is the part you should know how to do all on your own.”
That smart-ass comment from the mouth that had teased, taunted, and convinced him into this bed, finally had Tate moving into action. He flattened his palm over Logan’s tailbone and ran it up the man’s spine until he reached his shoulder where he squeezed as he drew his hips back. Sliding his cock out, he then reversed his movement and thrust back inside the tightest, hottest hole he’d ever been in.
“Oh fuck,” was all Tate heard.
He felt the satisfaction and power that came from that response, like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. With his hand on Logan’s shoulder, Tate moved down over the man until his other palm was resting on the bedding, and then he really started to move.
“Logan…damn,” he groaned as his head came down beside Logan’s, and he started to kiss the guy’s ear.
Tate could feel Logan’s thighs tensing against his own as he pushed back against him in steady a rhythm, and as Logan turned his head, and their mouths met in a tongue-thrusting kiss, Tate’s entire body vibrated from, pleasure fucking overload.
He hadn’t even felt this way for Diana, but as his hips moved in quick, shallow thrusts against Logan’s, and his cock tunneled inside his powerful body, Tate knew he’d never felt this before.
“Jesus, Tate. Harder. I’m not gonna fucking break,” Logan barked against his mouth.
Tate’s mouth morphed into a feral grin as he moved back up to his knees behind Logan, and placed both hands on his hips. Spreading his knees so he had steady ground, Tate reached up with one hand and tangled his fingers through Logan’s hair, gripping it and pulling his head back.
“Typical. Even now, you can’t keep that smart-ass mouth of yours shut.”
Logan’s head dropped forward, and Tate let him go as he heard, “Come on, Tate, let me have it.”
Tate withdrew, and this time, since he had permission, he promised softly, “Wish fucking granted.”
That was his only warning to Logan as he slammed his cock hard inside him.
As he picked up speed, he curled down over him, and placed both of his palms on the mattress beside Logan’s. Over and over, Tate pounded into him, and every time he did, Logan’s body chased his in a way that expressed how much it craved the cock plowing into it.
“Fucking hell, Tate. That’s it,” were the words Tate could hear coming from the man underneath him.
As his balls slapped against hot skin, he took in that new feeling, too, and added it to the list of things he loved about fucking Logan Mitchell.
* * *
Logan was losing his mind. As he lowered his upper body to the mattress below, he could feel Tate’s sweaty chest against his back as he reached down to his lower body and rapidly pumped his cock.<
br />
“Tate!” he shouted.
Tate continued jamming his hips into his, driving farther into his ass on every hard downward slide.
There was nothing pretty about this coupling and certainly nothing familiar or practiced. This was a first-time moment for Tate. He was going at him fast and hard, and Logan loved every rough minute of it.
Pushing himself up on his arms, Tate clutched his hips, and Logan looked back and caught eyes with the man who was sliding into him with each sure thrust.
“Jesus, your ass is tighter than anything I’ve ever been inside.”
“And?” Logan challenged, urging Tate to admit what he was feeling.
Tate moved down over him and bit his shoulder as his hips started those fast, shallow digs that—fuck him—hit exactly the right spot.
“And I never want to stop.”
Logan turned his head to take Tate’s mouth, but before he did, he said, “Then, don’t.”
“I don’t plan to,” Tate assured him.
Then, their mouths met as they went at each other like they had been waiting for years instead of days.
It only took minutes this time around, just as Logan had known it would, but within several of them, his own climax raced down his spine to start the familiar ache in his balls that would lead to one amazing orgasm.
Behind him, Tate’s hips moved with much more urgency, and the fingers on his hips threatened to bruise as Tate shouted out an obscenity, and his climax hit him hard. It didn’t take anything more than knowing that Tate had come inside him for Logan to come in a hot spray of creamy fluid all over his hand and Tate’s sheets.
Unbelievable. Have I ever been so goddamn satisfied?
As Tate pulled out of him, Logan winced slightly at the loss of pressure and shifted, so he was lying on his stomach. When he felt the warm chest and Tate’s groin pressed all along the back of him, Logan smiled into the pillow.
“Holy shit,” he heard followed by Tate’s chuckle.
“No kidding,” Logan concurred from under the man stretched out on top of him. He wasn’t about to tell him to move.
“That was unfuckingreal. Did it feel good?”
Logan started to laugh at the absurdity that anyone would have to ask that after the way he had just come, and as his whole body began to shake, Tate rolled off of him and landed in—
Yep, the wet spot.
Tate’s expression of shock and the quick way he moved made Logan’s hilarity increase until he landed on his back and was holding his stomach.
“Yes, you just landed in the proof.”
“I’m glad you find this so funny.”
Tate’s response just made Logan laugh harder. As he turned his head on the pillow to face Tate, Logan couldn’t help the grin he gave him.
“I was just thinking how hard it was going to be to convince you to suck my dick if my cum is so horrifying to you.”
Tate moved then, quicker than Logan expected, and he found himself pinned under him.
“You’d be surprised at what I might do when asked to try.” Tate lowered his head to take Logan’s mouth with his own.
Before their lips connected, Logan ran his hands through all those messy curls and told him, “Truer words have never been spoken. Look at everything you did tonight. So, when do you think I should expect that—”
Tate shook his head, brushing their noses together. “Shut up for a change, would you? And just kiss me.”
Now that Logan could do.
Part Two
Reaction: An emotional or intellectual response to or aroused by a stimulus.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Logan stood in line at The Daily Grind, waiting to get his much-needed caffeine while thinking about the night before. As far as he was aware, he and Tate had gone from first date to their first time to—
Seeing each other?
That thought alone made Logan almost break out in hives. The idea of tying himself to anyone apparently bothered him more than he’d realized, but he was also willing to try and push past it if that’s what it took to keep Tate around.
With that goal in mind, Logan stepped forward and reached out to take the hand resting by Tate’s leg. As soon as their fingers touched, Tate moved his aside and shook his head once, before stepping away from Logan and up to the counter.
Ah, so I can touch him—but only in private. Logan couldn’t pinpoint why that utterly galled him, since it never had before, but it did. Usually, he was the last person who needed assurance or commitment of any kind, but the fact that Tate was now acting like this, after almost demanding it from him—really got Logan hot under the collar.
As Tate finished his order, he turned and indicated to the corner where he was going to sit. “I’ll meet you back there,” Tate told him.
Logan found himself biting back what he really wanted to say, which would have sounded something like, Oh, I’m allowed to sit with you? But he didn’t say it. Instead, he nodded briskly and inhaled the scent of soap clinging to Tate’s skin. The man smelled extraordinary.
Walking up to the counter, Logan greeted the familiar young woman behind it. “Hey, Libby.”
“Logan, hey. How are you?”
Libby had been working at The Daily Grind for the last two years, always on the morning shift when he came in. She was cute and sweet with auburn hair and freckles everywhere. She also enjoyed hassling him at every opportunity she got.
“Oh, pretty good. Running a little late today.”
When she looked around his shoulder and over in the direction where Tate had gone, Logan made sure not to turn and follow her gaze.
“For a good reason, I hope?”
Logan chuckled and grinned. “Am I ever running late for a bad one?”
“Good point. Then again, you’ve never come in here with anyone either.”
Logan shook his head and then lowered his voice, “Tell me Robbie isn’t working today, and I’ll love you forever.”
“If only it were that easy to win your love, Logan.”
Feeling hopeful, he pressed, “So, he’s not?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Libby, come on, help me out.”
“He’s here, but I’ll keep him away. Sound good?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Logan supposed. What the hell was I thinking, bringing Tate here? “I’ll have an espresso, please.”
“Anything else?” she asked with a smile.
Logan gave an absent shake of his head. “Nope, that’s all.”
“Okay, I’ll call it out when it’s ready.” She paused and picked up the other cup before giving him a mischievous look. “With Tate’s?”
Amazing, even his name excites me. Logan turned and made his way over to the booth where the man who belonged to that name waited.
* * *
Tate sat toward the far back corner of the coffee shop and let his eyes take in his surroundings. Several couches were on the opposite side near the large windows that showed all of the businessmen and women—just like Logan, he supposed—making their way to work. Several of the tables in the middle of the shop were full, and as his gaze finally came back to Logan, who was still talking to the redheaded barista, Tate knew he needed to wake up and get his brain in gear.
Last night was still running on a continuous loop through his head, and when Tate had woken up to find Logan sitting fully dressed on the chair in his room, he’d known it was time to think fast. Real life was about to come calling, and there was no way to hide from what he’d done.
* * *
“I need to go and get clean clothes for work. Meet me for coffee? Nine thirty at The Daily Grind on LaSalle?”
Tate nodded his head against the pillow and could smell Logan’s aftershave all over his sheets. He had an insane urge to bury his face in it and then maybe masturbate all over them, but instead, he rolled onto his back. “Yeah, okay. What time is it now?”
“Six.”
“Oh shit. Of course you’re a mor
ning person,” he mumbled.
Logan stood and crossed the space to the bedroom door. “So, nine thirty?”
Tate agreed halfheartedly, resting an arm across his eyes.
“Tate?”
As his name was called, he lowered his arm and watched Logan’s tongue moisten his lips.
“Yeah?”
“If I didn’t have a mandatory meeting today, I’d take the day off, crawl back into your bed, and somehow convince you to lie back and let me have you.”
Tate felt his body react to Logan’s words, and he knew that he was definitely going to get himself off the minute Logan left.
Last night, after that first time, Logan had told him to sleep. Tate had figured the guy realized how overwhelmed he had been. But this morning, he’d surprised himself because Tate wanted nothing more than to start all over again.
“I’ll see you at nine thirty,” Logan confirmed, giving him one last look-over, before he walked out the door.
* * *
Now, here they were, after Tate had spent the morning lying in bed where he’d jerked off and come all over his sheets. He’d then showered and pulled on jeans with a gray V-neck.
Logan, on the other hand, looked as though he’d had twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep and was immaculately dressed as usual. Tate observed Logan as he made his way through the smaller tables toward him and tried to connect this man with the one he’d had naked and under him just last night.
Dressed in a three-piece suit today, Logan appeared like he usually did when he came into the bar. But this time, as Tate took in the cut and tailored fit of the navy blue material, his palms itched to touch. The perfectly styled hair and the glasses framing serious eyes added up to one seriously hot and sophisticated package—a package Tate wanted to unwrap. He wanted Logan back in his bed. He wanted him naked, and waiting for him on his hands and knees. Just like last night.
“So, am I allowed to sit here? Or should I find a different table?”
Tate blinked at the annoyed tone from the man he was currently fantasizing about, and he tried to work out why the hell he was on the receiving end of the sarcastic remarks.