by Ella Frank
“Very nice, you see? Now we’re starting to get to the real truths,” Logan said, and aimed his eyes to the waist of his jeans. “Give me your belt.”
Tate unbuckled his belt and slid it free, and when he held it out to Logan, he refused to let go and was tugged forward until he stumbled. He had to grasp the arm of the chair to steady himself, and as his mouth came close to Logan’s and he leaned in to take it, Logan—at the last minute—pulled away and sat back in the recliner with the belt in his hand.
“Take off your jeans.”
The orders were being delivered in the bossy, no nonsense voice Logan seemed to have perfected, and they had Tate’s cock dripping. He knew that, once the jeans were gone, Logan would become extremely aware of just how excited this role-play was making him—and he couldn’t wait.
He took his boots and socks off. Then he dropped his jeans to the floor and stepped out of them, only his tight, white boxer briefs left. Tate stood as still as possible while Logan’s eyes tracked over every inch of him. The emotion swirling inside them was so potent that he swore he felt it as if it were Logan’s hands—the same ones he was currently using to rub his own stiff shaft through his tailored pants. Unable to help himself, Tate reached down and massaged his hard-on as he stared at Logan, who was fully clothed and getting off on him being close to naked, between his legs.
Breathing hard, Tate slipped his hand inside the cotton.
A ragged sound came from Logan as he demanded, “Take off your fucking boxers.”
Tate kept his eyes locked with Logan’s as he bent at the waist and removed the final piece of clothing. There was something extremely arousing about being totally naked while the other person remained clothed, and when Logan raised his hand again and gestured for him to come closer, Tate dropped to his knees in a heartbeat.
He smoothed his hands up Logan’s thighs to massage the bulge he’d been eyeing then leaned in to take a kiss. Before their mouths touched, however, Logan’s hand cupped the back of his neck and kept them just a whisper apart. “My tie, Mr. Morrison. Take it off.”
Tate was practically panting as Logan’s breath ghosted over his lips before he reached for his tie and tugged at the knot. When it was undone and he began to pull it free, he held Logan’s stare and said the one thing he figured would get the strongest reaction.
“Anything else, sir?”
* * *
Logan’s control was close to non-existent as Tate knelt between his thighs, naked, with one hand milking his dick and the other removing his tie. Then the damn tease threw out the one word that, for some reason, was really flipping his fucking switch tonight.
He ran his hand up to grip Tate’s hair and craned his neck back as he shifted forward to the edge of the recliner. When Tate’s lips parted, Logan lowered his mouth and traced his tongue along his lower lip before he whispered, “Just this,” and then slammed their mouths together.
Logan dived inside and rubbed his tongue against Tate’s in a sensual caress. The hand between his legs squeezed him tighter through his pants, and Tate moaned into his mouth. He could feel Tate’s other hand on his thigh, using it to balance, as he continued to devour his mouth in a hot, dirty, tongue-fuck of a kiss, and when he finally pulled his mouth off Tate’s, he told him, “Undo me.”
Logan lay back against the couch and watched Tate’s hands move to the buttons of his dress pants. When the zipper was down and the material spread apart, Tate’s eyes rose to his and Logan cursed.
“Fuck, you’re a sight right now.”
Tate’s chest was rising and falling with each labored breath, and as his eyes lowered to Logan’s groin, Logan knew he needed to get them into his bedroom before he fucked Tate on the floor where he was kneeling.
“Go and wait for me in my room. Head at the end of the bed, pillow under your hips.”
Tate slowly got to his feet, and as he was about to walk away, Logan stood and reached for his hand. After turning him back, he took his lips again in a fierce kiss, and when Tate pulled away, he gave his fingers a tight squeeze.
“I love you. Now, go.”
* * *
Tate wasn’t sure how he managed to walk from the living room into Logan’s bedroom, but somehow, he’d done it and was now lying as requested—with his head facing the foot of the bed and a pillow under his hips. He’d also snagged one for his head, and with his eyes trained on the door, he waited once again for Logan.
His patience was rewarded when, several frustrating minutes later, Logan appeared. He’d taken off every stitch of clothing and was gloriously naked as he strolled into the bedroom. Tate couldn’t help but thrust his hips into the pillow his cock was nestled on, causing a wicked-hot smile to stretch across Logan’s lips.
“Hmm. Do you like what you see, Mr. Morrison? I know I do. Do that again.”
Tate held Logan’s gaze as he fucked his hips down into the pillow again.
Logan wrapped his fingers around his cock. “Your skin against my sheets looks fucking amazing. From now on, I’m only buying white sheets. That was one of the first things I noticed about you. Well, after your sexed-up hair, gorgeous face, and tight ass.”
With every word that left Logan’s mouth, Tate continued to rock his hips. Then Logan walked around to the bedside table, and he heard the drawer open and shut. Soon after, the bed dipped, and Logan was climbing on top of it.
Tate was shocked he’d been able to hold off for so long as turned on as he was, but he’d be damned if he went off before he felt Logan inside him tonight. He’d been thinking—hell, fantasizing—about being taken all afternoon, and he would wait—even if it killed him.
“Spread your legs.”
Logan’s voice penetrated his lust-addled brain, and as Tate parted his legs, he felt Logan’s palms smooth up the back of his thighs to cup his ass.
“Goddammit, Tate,” Logan whispered as he spread his cheeks apart, and Tate shoved his hips back toward the reverent man behind him. “I want you so damn much.”
Before he knew that it would come out of his mouth, Tate said, “Good thing I’m yours then.”
He felt Logan’s cock between his ass cheeks as he crowded down over him, and when the sharp scrape of teeth dug into his shoulder, he bucked his hips back.
“Yes, with what I have planned, it’s a very good thing.” Logan pressed a kiss to his ear and asked, “See the corner of the mattress over there?”
Tate focused on the edge of the bed and wondered what he was getting at—then Logan told him.
“Feel free to bite it when I’m fucking you so hard your throat is hoarse from shouting.”
Oh fuck. Trouble had most definitely found him, and its name was Logan Mitchell.
* * *
Logan ground his body against all of Tate’s naked skin, and as he rolled his hips over the ones pushing against him, a low growl rumbled out of his throat. He’d wondered what Tate’s reaction would be to the words flying out of his mouth, and with each raw, unfiltered promise he’d given, Tate’s arousal had increased until he was practically fucking the pillow for some kind of release.
The sounds coming from the man writhing around under him were so fucking erotic that Logan’s desire to wait any longer vanished. Moving back so he was kneeling between Tate’s legs, he rolled on a condom and then grabbed the bottle of lube to pour a good amount down the crack of Tate’s ass. When his cheeks clenched from the shock of cold liquid, Logan’s mouth pulled into a tight grin. But Tate had nothing to worry about, because in around five seconds, things were going to heat up real fucking fast.
Throwing the bottle out of his way, Logan lowered down over Tate, stroked his finger along the slippery crease, and pushed the tip against the small pucker. A loud groan left Tate, and when he turned his head on the pillow, Logan’s desire intensified at the look in his eyes.
“You like that, don’t you?” Logan teased and inched his finger in deeper.
Tate’s lips parted as he nodded. “Yeah.”
Logan
took his mouth in a hard kiss, and thrust his finger in all the way, causing a curse to escape Tate as his tight hole clenched around him. He slid his finger in and out of him several times. Then he pulled away to kneel between his thighs.
“Forgive my impatience, but it’s your own fault.” He paused when he saw Tate’s arms wrap around the pillow under him and bring it up against his chest. “Not only are you the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, but I know you get super fucking excited when my finger is in your ass. So this time, I’m going to get my cock in you before you explode all over my pillow there.”
A grunt left Tate as his head dropped to the mattress and he jacked his hips back. Logan grabbed his hip to hold him in place and used his other hand to line his cock up. Then he gnashed his teeth together and slowly slid inside Tate’s body.
“Ah, Jesus, Tate,” he growled, and when Tate propelled himself backwards and he sank in all the way, a curse tore from Logan. “Fuck yes. That’s it. Take all of me.”
He ran his palms over Tate’s ass cheeks, spreading them a little, and then up his back before planting his hands by his sides and leaning down to kiss his spine. Tate shifted and his shoulder blades bunched, and Logan smiled against his skin, knowing exactly what he needed.
With his body molded to every inch of the gorgeous one laid out under him, Logan started to move. He pulled his hips back and then began to drive his steely length in and out of Tate, picking up more momentum with each hard thrust.
He kissed and sucked the line of his shoulder as he tunneled deeper with every solid punch of his hips. Tate arched back and turned his head toward him. Looping an arm around his neck, Logan held him in place, spearing his tongue between desperate, hungry lips.
Never had he gone at Tate with such ferocity, and never had Tate craved it like this. But when their mouths parted and their eyes clashed, Tate issued his own request with one simple word.
“Harder.”
* * *
Tate clutched the pillow under him as Logan’s cock shoved back inside him with enough force to propel him up the bed. A harsh cry left his throat and he reached out and clenched the corner of the mattress, just as Logan had originally suggested, pulling himself up toward it.
The rhythm of Logan’s body didn’t falter as he followed close behind and stretched out to clasp his hands over the top of his. He entwined their fingers and started to jam his hips against him at an unrelenting pace, and Tate could feel his hot breath against his neck as he panted and cursed with every fuck of his hips.
It was unrestrained, it was passionate, and as Logan’s teeth sank into the skin of his shoulder, Tate thought that it was absolute perfection. Logan had finally let go and was taking him the way Tate knew he’d always wanted.
Every time before this, he’d always been careful, gentle, and somewhat considerate—but not this time.
The man who was plowing into him over and over had lost any decorum his suit and tie afforded and had morphed into a man who was taking exactly what he wanted, how he wanted—and Tate fucking loved it.
“Yes. Harder, Logan,” he rasped and then did as Logan had advised earlier. He clamped his teeth onto the mattress as Logan tensed behind him and shouted his name with a final thrust of his hips.
The high of knowing Logan had just come so spectacularly had Tate pushing back, trying to get more. When Logan pulled out, he almost sobbed at the loss until he was flipped over and Logan wrapped his fingers around his cock.
Without a word, Logan lowered his head over him and took his erection down his throat, causing Tate to buck his hips up in an effort to get closer. His hands started to stroke Logan’s hair, but when Logan’s mouth slid up and down his cock, Tate lost the ability to think and white-knuckled the sheets on either side of him so he could fuck that wicked mouth.
The sounds of pleasure that came from Logan as he greedily swallowed him time and time again drove Tate beyond his sanity. He shut his eyes, letting himself get lost in the moment, and then he gave one final shove down Logan’s throat and came on a thunderous roar. No one had ever come close to understanding what he wanted in bed—not the way Logan did.
Once the calm after the storm had settled, Logan moved up his body, and Tate wrapped his arms around him. As they both lay there, in the silence of the room, neither one of them said a word—because, really, there was nothing to add to such perfection.
Chapter Eight
“Tate?” Logan said softly from where he lay with his head resting on his shoulder. He’d been there for a good hour or so, and when Tate shifted under him, he rolled to his side to see sleepy eyes now opening. “Sorry. I didn't realize you were sleeping.”
“Nah, was just relaxing. You wore me out.”
He placed his lips against Tate’s ear and gently kissed it. “Then my job here is done.”
Tate’s chest rumbled with laughter as he reached across to trace a line along his jaw.
Logan closed his eyes under his touch and then said into the quiet room, “I wanted to tell you before you heard it somewhere else… Chris was at my office today. Cole scheduled the meeting. Probably his way of seeing if I could ‘handle’ him as a client or if he’ll end up being nothing but a nuisance.”
Tate’s fingers paused before he drew them down to his chin and gripped it tight, angling his face up so he was staring directly at him. Logan expected questions—why or what happened—but instead, Tate’s eyes got a look in them that had his heart and dick responding. It was one of annoyance and possession.
And hell, if that doesn’t excite me.
“Did he touch you?”
Logan thought back to that moment in his office and wondered if he should—
“Did he touch you, Logan?” The gruff question and the fingers on his chin were pretty clear indicators that Tate expected an answer—now.
“He grabbed my arm—”
Before he could even finish his thought, Tate interrupted. “And?”
“And,” Logan added, “that was all. He wanted to discuss our past. I didn’t. End of story.”
Tate sized him up as if trying to decide whether or not to believe what he was saying, and then he shoved him on his back and loomed over him. Logan felt his heart thundering as he waited for what felt like hours, and then Tate leaned down and pressed their mouths together.
The kiss was quick and hard, like a stamp of ownership, and when he raised his head, he promised, “If he touches you again, I’m going to be the third person to punch that fuck in the face.”
Logan sank his fingers into Tate’s hair and tugged him down to suck his bottom lip. “So possessive. Gotta say, I’m a fan.”
“He wants you back, doesn’t he?” Tate asked as if he hadn’t even spoken.
Logan wasn’t sure if that possibility worried Tate or just pissed him the hell off. Either way, he needed to make sure Tate was aware he didn’t have anything to worry about.
He wrapped his legs around Tate’s waist and gently nipped his way along his jaw to his ear. “If that’s the case, then he’s out of fucking luck. You are who I want, and that’s all that matters.”
“Hmm,” Tate sighed into his neck. “I like that.”
“Good,” he said and smoothed a hand over Tate’s back to his ass. “Because there’s no question, no doubt. Actually, speaking of things we want…”
Tate raised his head, and when they were eye to eye, Logan suddenly lost his nerve. What if I suggest this and he says no?
Before he could garner the courage to voice his request, Tate fingered a piece of hair lying against his forehead and asked, “You want me to get tested, right?”
Logan sucked in a shaky breath at the question, not realizing until then just how much he wanted it. To be one hundred percent bare with Tate, to be inside him in a way he’d never been with another.
Fuck yes, I want that.
“Yes,” he admitted, arching his body against Tate’s. “Is that something you want?” He held his breath as Tate placed his forearms by his head
on the mattress and rested his brow against his.
“Yes. I want to be inside you with nothing in between.”
“Mhmm.”
“You like the idea of that, huh?” Tate teased.
Logan crossed his ankles over his ass, locking him in place, and pushed up to rub their shafts together. “Oh, I like it all right,” he assured him. “I can’t wait to feel it when you lose yourself inside me. I want us stripped of everything, except you and me—and, Tate?”
This time, it was Tate’s voice that was unsteady. “Yeah?”
“I’m gonna go out of my fucking mind when I get it.”
* * *
Tate had absolutely no problem with that, and as Logan’s hands continued to stroke up and down his spine, he couldn’t stay still to save himself. His desire to be close to Logan, to give everything over to him, should have been alarming, but the fact of the matter was it felt fucking incredible. Being with and wanting Logan were becoming as natural as breathing.
He knew that with as far as they’d come in such a short amount of time, given these extra steps, these gestures of trust they were extending to one another and the connection they shared was just going to get stronger—and he wanted that more than he’d ever imagined possible.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
When Logan’s fingers found his hair and tugged his head up, Tate saw the question in his eyes.
“I’ll make an appointment tomorrow. And you?”
Logan’s face softened and an expression of deep affection—and a little shock—crossed his features. “Umm…”
Tate chuckled at the unintelligent response and repeated back to him, “Umm?”