by Ella Frank
“I do, William,” Logan grinned. “It’s like I’m with someone totally new. Someone…refined.”
As he pushed his hand into Tate’s jeans and curled his fingers around the hard-on he found, Tate’s lips opened and his head rested back against the kitchen cabinet. Unable to help himself, Logan leaned forward and licked a path up Tate’s jaw to his ear.
“Ahh fuck, Logan.”
Logan’s cock throbbed at the invitation as he bit the lobe and removed his hand.
“Maybe tonight. But for now, you may want to brace yourself.”
He kissed his way back down Tate’s neck to his shoulder and then lower to bite his nipple. Tate placed one of his hands on the counter behind himself as Logan gripped both sides of his jeans and tugged them down his legs, lowering to his knees on the kitchen floor.
He circled the base of Tate’s shaft with his fingers and flicked his tongue over the swollen head in front of him. The throaty sound that left Tate had Logan’s mouth stretching into a wicked grin as he peered up to see him braced, ready for the sensual onslaught.
As if Tate could feel him watching, he looked down and asked, “Why’d you stop?”
Logan kissed Tate’s hipbone and then scraped his teeth along the taut skin. “I wanted to make sure I had your attention, William.”
One of Tate’s hands came forward and then yanked his head back so he was forced to look up.
“I told you not to call me that.”
Unrepentant to the end, Logan knew his face was smug. “And I’ve told you there’s only one way to shut me up.”
“So you have.”
Tate’s other hand cradled his face and directed him forward to his stiff rod.
Logan didn’t hesitate. He nuzzled in and sucked the skin around the root of the hard-on that was brushing the side of his cheek. He tormented Tate with a flick of his tongue and a suck of his lips, causing Tate’s hips to shove forward, and when he finally moved to take the plump head into his mouth, a loud curse ripped from Tate’s throat. Logan closed his eyes and felt the fingers in his hair flex as he finally slid his lips down Tate’s steely length.
Fuck yes. Use me, Logan thought, and he couldn’t help the hum of approval he gave as Tate took over the pace.
He smoothed his hands up the back of firm thighs and clenched his ass as Tate continued to thrust forward to the back of his throat. Logan dug his fingers into cheeks that were tightly muscled and reveled in the way Tate now let go with him one hundred percent.
Tate had one hand at the back of his head now, and his other fingers kept stroking along Logan’s face, as if massaging him to make sure he didn’t get lockjaw, but he had nothing to worry about.
Logan’s jaw was nice and loose when it came to pleasuring Tate.
* * *
Logan was going to render him useless before it was even seven a.m.
Tate looked down once more, just to be certain he wasn’t imagining it, and no—he wasn’t.
There, kneeling at his feet in his pressed, white dress shirt, grey pants, and a light-blue tie, was Logan, and he was sucking him as if he had all the time in the world to be there.
Tate knew he’d messed up Logan's perfectly styled hair, but as Logan pulled away and freed his cock before swallowing it back inside, Tate didn’t give a fuck. He traced Logan’s jaw and then found himself running the pads of his fingers along his glasses just as Logan slipped a finger between his ass cheeks.
Jesus. As if what he was doing wasn’t hot enough, something about having Logan dressed for work yet still willing to say fuck it and get him off was pushing every button Tate had. The glasses were a nice touch also, and it was clear that Logan was proving his point from the night before. Just because he was wearing them, it didn’t mean jack shit when it came to taking what he wanted.
“Yes,” Tate hissed as Logan’s finger pushed against his back passage and then slipped down the taut skin between his balls. “Just like…ahh,” he groaned as Logan stroked and sucked him until he finally lost it.
He gripped Logan’s head between both hands and cursed his name out, coming in a rush into Logan’s greedy mouth.
“Oh God, Logan. Fucking hell.”
Without realizing he was doing it, Tate ran his hands gently through Logan’s hair.
“Mhmm. If you don’t quit stroking me, I’m gonna pull you down here and miss work.”
Tate stared down at the man peering up at him. He wanted to tell Logan how he was feeling. That ever since he’d come into his life, everything seemed more intense, more consuming. But as a sly curve hit Logan’s mouth and he got to his feet, pressing a palm to his erection, Tate knew now wasn’t the time.
“I really need to get going.”
Tate pulled his jeans up and zipped them as Logan kissed him quickly on the lips. He tasted a hint of himself there and wondered when that had become such a fucking turn-on for him.
He managed to pass Logan the traveler’s mug he used and watched him grab the coffee pot to fill it.
“So…” Tate started, trailing off as Logan pinned him with a smoldering look.
“Yes?”
“Will I see you tonight?”
Logan’s dark eyebrow arched. “Would you like to see me tonight?”
Tate trailed his eyes over the almost perfectly put-together lawyer and inclined his head slowly. “Yes, I would.”
“Then I think that can be arranged.”
Logan readjusted his tie as he brought the coffee cup to his mouth and backed away, eyes still on him. When he lowered the mug, he licked his lips and winked at him.
“This is the only way I like cream with my coffee.”
Tate’s mouth opened but then shut again. This raw side of Logan, the side he was beginning to crave, still managed to shock him.
He watched silently as Logan turned, bent to pick up his briefcase beside the couch, and walked toward the door.
“Logan?” he called out just as he reached his front door.
“Yes?”
“Should I do anything, you know, special to lock up when I leave?”
The expression that crossed Logan’s face was full of sex and promises as he asked, “Who said you had to leave?”
Tate said nothing as he tried to think of a response. This was the first time that Logan had ever insinuated that he should stay longer than the morning after, and it all felt very…right.
Luckily for him, Logan never had a problem filling the silence.
“Personally, I think it’d be a hell of a lot more special if you stayed.” Logan pulled the door open, and as he stepped out, he called, “But if you do leave, just pull the door shut behind you. See you tonight, William!”
Smart-mouthed fucker, Tate thought with a grin he couldn’t help.
How the hell did I ever think I could resist him?
He hadn’t stood a chance.
3.
Tate looked around the empty living room and thought back to Logan’s comment. “I think it’d be a hell of a lot more special if you stayed.”
What did he mean by that? Stay for the day? For the night? Forever?
Jesus. He needed to stop overanalyzing shit or he was going to go insane. He’d been fine before…Before his sister had caught them making out in Logan’s office, and before he’d let Logan have him—and he’d most definitely had him.
Ever since then, Tate had been feeling…anxious, off-center.
He knew that he wanted Logan, and he wasn’t one to lie to himself, so he was honest enough to admit the thought of telling his family about who he was with was making him feel slightly nauseated.
He poured a cup of coffee and made his way over to stand at the sliding door that led out to Logan’s balcony. The same balcony he’d stepped onto that first night he’d been there when Logan had blown his mind—among other things.
The sun was finally up and shining through all of the surrounding high-rises, and as Tate ran a hand through his hair, he was reminded of the way Logan now played with it
.
Almost as if he couldn’t help it, Logan’s fingers automatically found their way into his curls whenever he sat down beside the guy, and Tate fucking loved it. Over the course of getting to know Logan, he’d discovered a few things about himself. First and foremost, it was okay to give in and hand the reins over to someone else. He even enjoyed it, not always being the one in control.
He’d always been accused of being stubborn, and he knew he was, but with Logan, he found himself wanting to give in more often than not. The man was persistent as hell and had an uncanny way of wearing a person down.
Some wouldn’t appreciate that, but to Tate, it was…kind of endearing.
Unlike his ex-wife, Logan wasn’t the type to give in and walk away from what he wanted. He was the type to stick around and fight it out to the end. One had to give him credit for that.
It’d been an hour or so since Logan had left, and Tate had finished his second cup of coffee for the morning. As he was dumping the mug in the sink, his phone began to ring with a familiar tune. He looked at his jacket, where the phone was located, and decided it was time to man the hell up.
He crossed to the couch and slipped his hand inside the pocket to locate the cell. Pulling it out, he looked at the name on the display and then slowly brought it up to his ear, not having a clue what he was about to say.
“William?” was the first thing out of his mother’s mouth.
Tate could feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he placed a hand on the back of Logan’s couch for support and inhaled a shaky breath.
“William? Are you there?”
Closing his eyes, Tate swallowed and nodded, and when he got no response, he realized he hadn’t actually said anything.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Yeah, I know. I got the messages.”
There was a pause, and then Tate heard some rustling. He wondered if his mother was moving out of one room and into the privacy of another.
“Then why didn’t you call me back?”
“Mom…” he started, but he didn’t really know what to say after that.
He turned around, rested his ass against the back of the couch, and rubbed a palm over his face. Nothing of consequence had been said yet and it was already awkward as hell.
“I need to talk to you and dad.”
The silence that stretched between them was strained as he waited for her answer, and when she finally spoke, he knew that Jill and Diana’s poison had already started to spread.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Tate grabbed his jacket, pulled out the pack of cigarettes inside, and flipped open the lid. “Why isn’t it a good idea? You just asked why I haven’t called you back. I assumed that meant you wanted to talk to me.”
Tate’s hackles rose as he heard his mother sigh, and then she asked something he’d never thought he would hear her say.
“Is it true, William? Are you dating a man?”
Fucking Diana. He couldn’t bring himself to think that his own sister would be this malicious, but Diana…Oh yeah. This has her fingerprints all over it.
“Mom, why don’t I come over Sunday—”
“Is. It. True?” she asked again, cutting him off. Her voice was cool, her tone unrelenting.
Tate couldn’t seem to spit the word yes past the lump in his throat. If it had been the easiest word to say last night, then this was pure irony, because it was the hardest fucking word to utter this morning.
“William?”
“Yes, Mom,” he finally managed, but because luck wasn’t on his side right about now, she didn’t understand and asked again.
“I asked if you are dating a man.”
Finally, Tate found some of the backbone he prided himself on and replied, “I know. I answered you. Yes.”
As expected, he received no response. All Tate could hear was his mother’s breathing and the blood rushing around his head. He offered no more as he made his way over to the balcony door, slid it open, and stepped outside.
Fuck, it’s cold. Almost as cold as the reception at the other end of the phone.
Quickly, he moved back in until he was standing on the hardwood floor. Then he frowned at the cigarettes in his hand. He really needed one.
Choosing the only option he could think of, he sat down cross-legged in front of the sliding door and opened it a crack. He brought one to his mouth and lit up, and still all that remained was tense silence.
“Mom?”
“Why would you do this?” she asked, and before he could answer she continued, “I don’t understand, son.”
Now he knew she was pissed. William and son were only used when she was mad, and her voice had a slight tremble. He could actually picture her pacing back and forth.
“What do you mean, why? I didn’t plan it this way. It just happened.”
“It just happened? How does that just happen?”
“I don’t know…It just did.”
Tate closed his eyes and blew the smoke out through the crack in the door. As he sat there, he thought about Logan’s sensual smile and the thick, black strands he’d had his hands in this morning.
Tate was pretty sure if Jill had brought him home his mother would’ve fawned all over him, but the fact that he wanted to bring Logan home was another matter altogether. Then he got to wondering how he would’ve felt if Jill had brought Logan home. Would he have still had this intense desire to touch the man?
Hang on. Why the fuck am I thinking—
“William, you are not gay. You were married. To a woman!”
Tate rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the update.”
“Don’t you get smart with me. I just don’t understand what is going on with you lately. First, you divorce Diana—”
“Would you rather I stay in a miserable marriage?”
“Of course not, but this? This is just…just—”
“Just what, Mom?”
“Wrong. It’s just wrong. We raised you better than this, William. You were such a good boy.”
Tate closed his eyes and squeezed them tight.
Yes, the good Catholic boy who never disappoints his parents. Wow, what a fucking joke that is these days.
“I’m not a boy anymore, Mom. Why can’t you ever try to see my side of things?” Tate asked, immediately regretting it.
He’d told himself back when he and Diana had split not to count on his family for much. Apparently, it was okay to screw over those around you, as long as you went to church on Sunday to repent.
“And how am I supposed to see this?”
Tate had no idea and was pretty sure his silence relayed that.
“Well? What do you expect?” she demanded again, and this time, she sounded pissed. “First, Diana called me—”
“Why the fuck are you still talking to her?”
“Don’t you use that word with me.”
“Well, answer me. She’s my ex-wife. Why is she calling you?” Tate had wanted to ask his mother that for as long as he could remember and was fucking proud of himself for finally doing so.
“I’ve always been close to Diana. Ever since she and your sister were little girls.”
Tate took another deep inhale of the tobacco and tipped his face toward the open door to exhale. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the story.
Diana’s family had moved in next door when he’d turned eight. Almost instantly, his sister and Diana had become attached at the hip—best friends for life—and they sure as shit weren’t giving that up anytime soon.
He hadn’t really paid much attention to Diana back then. She’d been more like a sister to him until the year she returned from college. That was the first time his cock had gotten him in a whole shit-ton of trouble.
Logan was the second.
It was best not to think about that right now though—not with his angry mother on the other end of the phone.<
br />
Diana was a fucking problem, one that was still included in family affairs even though they were in the process of making their separation a permanent one. It was time his mother realized how much he didn’t appreciate their continued friendship.
“Don’t you realize how uncomfortable that makes me? You still talk to my ex-wife.”
“You know she’s like family.”
“And I am family! Jesus. Where the hell does she get off telling you my personal business?”
“She was hurt. She said you were kissing a man. That would hurt any woman who was once involved with you. Is this…this man the reason you two—”
“No!” Tate denied adamantly. “Is that what she said?”
The silence he was met with was answer enough, and it made Tate want to track Diana down and strangle the witch.
“I didn’t meet Logan until a couple of weeks ago.”
“That’s his name?”
“Yes. That’s his name.” Tate paused and then decided, What the hell. “He wants to meet you.”
“Excuse me?”
“He wants to meet you, and I want you to meet him.”
Tate lowered his arm outside the door and crushed out the cigarette butt. So what if he was imagining it was Diana’s face.
“I don’t think so. I don’t ever want to meet him.”
Tate bit back the snide remark he wanted to make and instead asked something he knew he’d regret. “Why not?”
And just as predicted, the answer wasn’t one he’d been ready to hear.
“Because he’s a pervert, and he’s corrupted my son.”
* * *
Logan strolled into the firm’s conference room and found Cole seated at the large oval table in the center. He had paperwork scattered all around him and a half-eaten sandwich on a plate to his left.
“You know, I hate organizing this kind of shit. Can’t we hire a party planner? I know we can afford it. Or better yet, your wife?”
Cole looked up from the papers in front of him and shook his head. “Rachel’s a pastry chef, not an event planner. Plus, she’s busy enough down at Exquisite.”