Текст книги "Try: 1"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

* * *

Logan remained where he was, staring at the back wall, waiting for Tate to return. He was having an internal conflict, something that didn’t happen often with him. He’d been hurt when Tate had pulled away from him earlier.

Hurt.

The concept was almost humorous, considering his stance on relationships in the past, but the thought of Tate being embarrassed by him—

Yeah, that fucking hurt. The guy has managed to turn me into an emotional head case in less than two weeks.

Logan was resolved to telling him that he was not down for the hiding bullshit just as soon as he got back. Before he even finished thinking it though, the seat opposite him filled, and it was not by Tate.

Oh, just fucking great.

“I knew it was you,” the new arrival announced.

Logan stared across the table at Robbie.

Blond-haired, blue-eyed Robbie was a one-night several months ago, lapse in judgment.

“Did you?” Logan asked, trying to speed things along.

Robbie wasn’t shy at all as he looked over Logan’s suit and licked his lips suggestively.

“I did. I told Libby it definitely looked like you even though she swore it wasn’t. But I was right, and here you are.”

Looking over his shoulder quickly, Logan was happy to see that Tate was still at the counter, waiting behind a group of people. Turning back to face the guy, Logan tried to remember exactly why he’d gone home with him as he replied, “Yep, here I am.”

“You’re a hard man to get a hold of. Always gone before I see you.”

Until today. How could I have been so stupid? Logan aimed a forced smile at Robbie and hoped that Tate took his sweet-ass time getting their coffees.

Robbie leaned in across the table, similar to the move Tate had done a little earlier, and licked his top lip again. Unexpectedly, that night came back to Logan in a hot flash of mouths, cocks, and cum. Specifically, his cock in that mouth.

“I tried calling you,” Robbie told him quietly.

Logan remained where he was, but admitted. “I know.”

“But you haven’t answered.”

The guy isn’t stupid at least. Logan hated stupid.

“That’s true. I haven’t.”

Some men might have taken offense to that, but Logan was fairly certain that when they’d decided to go home for a quick fuck, he’d very clearly explained the rules up front. So, he was surprised when Robbie continued talking instead of getting up to leave.

“I thought we had a good night together.”

Trying his hardest not to lose patience, Logan raised a brow. “We did. And then it was over.”

As the word over left his lips and seemed to hover in the air, Logan felt, rather than saw, Tate stop beside his side of the booth. He watched as Robbie lifted his eyes to Tate, and then the young man’s mouth split into a smile that was pure sexual invitation. It was the same invitation Logan had once taken him up on, and an invitation that was not going to work here. It was a pity Logan didn’t have a chance to warn him of that before he opened his mouth and engaged Tate in conversation.

“Well, hello. Who are you?”

* * *

Who am I? Tate thought, glaring down at the little dipshit currently seated opposite Logan. Who the fuck are you?

Since he seemed to have lost the ability of speech, Tate turned to Logan, who answered for him, “This is Tate. He’s…”

Logan seemed to stumble over what he wanted to say, which was completely unlike him, and Tate wanted to get in the blond man’s face and say, I’m his, so fuck off.

Instead, he remained mute as Logan ended with, “A friend of mine.”

Although that completely infuriated him, Tate knew that it was his own fault. He’d sensed the way Logan had backed off when he’d moved his hand away from him earlier. It had been a natural reaction to any guy who’d try and hold his hand. One that was going to be hard to break, but it had really rubbed Logan the wrong way, and now, he was obviously paying him back.

“I’m Robbie. Also a good friend of Logan’s.”

Tate felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the implications being thrown at him. It was obvious this guy knew Logan in the we’ve-fucked kind of way, and Tate wasn’t exactly sure what his part in this discussion should be, which also didn’t help in his annoyance.

“So sorry, I’m in your way.”

“Trust me, you’re not. But you are in my seat,” Tate pointed out.

“Am I?”

As Tate glared down at the intruder, he noticed that, for once in his life, Logan had shut the hell up. “Yes. You are.”

The blond finally removed his eyes from him and looked across to Logan—the man, Tate thought, he had met for coffee. Robbie licked his lips like he wanted a taste of Logan’s mouth, and Tate almost dumped the coffees on the table, wanting to grab the guy.

Logan must have finally clued in to Tate’s mood because that was when he spoke up.

“Well, it was nice catching up, Robbie.”

Tate turned his head and pinned Logan with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me glare.

“It’s always nice to see you, Logan, under any circumstances. Or just under you in general,” Robbie replied.

That comment was almost enough to make Tate’s temper explode, as the little shit slid out of the booth.

As he stood, Tate noticed he was around the same height as him, but Robbie was rail thin. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a black Daily Grind polo shirt. He gave Tate a wide grin, obviously aware of the shitstorm he’d just stirred, and then he turned, and walked away.

Sliding into the vacated booth, Tate glowered at Logan who had an arm across the back of the black seat and one on the table. Tate pushed the espresso over to him and finally spoke. “Him? Really?”

Logan picked up the coffee and brought it to his lips to take a sip. Tate did the same but kept an eye on the man across from him.

“Why so surprised? He’s cute, and his mouth rivals the suction of a Hoover.”

Tate almost choked on his coffee at that analogy. He coughed, cleared his throat, and stared at Logan, whose eyes seemed to be laughing at him.

“Nice. So, that’s how you remember the people you’ve been with—by their…sucking skills?”

“Not at all. Take you for example. All I can remember is how hard you fucked me last night. Plus, you haven’t sucked my cock yet. Want to remedy that?”

Tate shook his head. “Not right now.”

“Thought so,” Logan responded, lifting the drink to his lips.

Tate watched Logan’s lower lip part from the top to take a sip, and that was when he found himself promising, “Later.”

“Later, huh?”

“Tonight.”

Fingering the cup Logan pointed out, “You work tonight.”

“You don’t.”

“No, I don’t, do I? What should I do instead?”

Tate crowded in, wanting this now more than ever. “Come to the bar.”

“Now, why would I do that? It’s not like you’re going to talk to me more than you usually do. I don’t feel like sitting in a bar and staring at a man who is too much of a pussy to admit what he’s doing behind closed doors.”

Oh yeah, Logan is pissed. Just like Logan had once told him, it was an absolute turn-on. Arguing with him was like foreplay. Tate couldn’t believe how hot it made him.

Lowering his voice, he suggested, “Call in sick and come home with me. I’ll prove you wrong.”

“I could,” Logan considered. “But I’m not in the mood.”

Tate let out a sound of disbelief. “Really? You aren’t in the mood?”

“Not with someone who acts like I’m no one in public, but expects something exclusive so he can get me on my hands and knees in private.”

Logan was right. What he was asking was unfair. Tate thought he just needed time, time to get used to it all. But he wasn’t kidding himself. He wanted Logan, and he’d probably do whatever the guy asked to have him.

“You’re really pissed because I wouldn’t hold your hand, aren’t you?”

Logan dropped the relaxed posture to lean in.

“Don’t you laugh at me.”

Tate let his fingers reach out to touch Logan’s.

“Why? If this was the other way around, you’d be rolling on the floor, laughing at me.”

“Fuck off, Tate,” Logan snarled.

Quick as a whip, Tate caught Logan’s tie and one of the guys’ hands, pulling him across the table. Tate watched Logan’s vision shift to his mouth in anticipation.

“You really want me to leave?”

Logan raised his gaze as he warned, “People are watching.”

Tate’s desire to get his point across was outweighing any kind of fear he might have been having. “So?”

“So? Aren’t you the one that—”

Tate cut him off by tugging on the tie. “I told you I needed some time.”

“And fifteen minutes is your version of time?” Logan questioned skeptically.

“No, not really. But I want that little shit to see exactly who’s going to be sucking you later, and I don’t want you going to work thinking about him instead of me.”

Logan scoffed. “Tate?”

“What?” He didn’t really care where they were anymore. Instead, all he could visualize was this man’s mouth on his own.

“Lately, you’re all that I think about.”

“Perfect.” Tate responded before he pushed off his seat and took Logan’s mouth in a blistering kiss.

Logan opened to his lips immediately, and Tate forgot all about his surroundings as he tangled his tongue with Logan’s, sinking into the connection. The moan that slipped from Logan’s throat made Tate want to drag him over the table and rip off his clothes. It wasn’t until the sound of an order being called out, that Tate was brought back to reality, back to the coffee shop, back to where he had just openly kissed Logan in front of anyone who walked on by.

Before he had time to analyze that, Logan flicked his tongue over Tate’s bottom lip. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“What?” Tate reluctantly let go of Logan and sat back in his seat.

Logan followed suit and calmly stated, “Of Robbie. You were jealous.”

“And if I was?”

“There’s no reason to be. But I like it,” Logan informed with a self-satisfied grin.

“Why?”

“Because you looked like you wanted to kick his ass for even talking to me, and that makes me want you even more.”

Tate lowered his voice, questioning softly, “You really like that idea, don’t you?”

“Hell yes.”

Tate felt his erection pressing against his jeans at the look Logan was giving him. The kiss had gotten him interested, but the look aimed his way had him ready to go.

Then, Logan opened his mouth to add to the torture. “All of that honey-colored skin, naked under me, your curls all over my pillow as I drive my cock inside you—oh yeah, Tate, that’s going to happen. Mark my words.”

Tate’s ass clenched, and he actually pushed his hips up as though he were trying to ease the ache. He was more aroused by the image Logan had just depicted than he’d ever thought he would be.

“What if I don’t ever want that?”

 “Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you turned-on right now, wishing we were somewhere private?”

Tate closed his eyes, sighed, and then reopened them. “Yes.”

“Then, trust me, you want it. Think about it, get comfortable with the idea, and when you’re ready, I’m going to make you feel so unfuckingbelievable that you’ll wonder why you ever questioned it.”

Tate’s thoughts were all over the place, and all he wanted was to ease his ache by doing…well, anything with Logan.

“Sure you have to go to work?”

“Yeah, but I’ll come by the bar after.”

Logan slid out of the booth, and Tate had to wonder how the guy didn’t have a raging hard-on like himself. But when he buttoned his jacket and placed his briefcase in front of him, Tate had his answer.

He does, but he has props. Lucky fuck.

Casually, Logan walked over to his side of the booth, leaned down slightly, and relayed in a tone that made Tate look twice, “I don’t expect you to announce this to everyone. Hell, I don’t even want that. But if you ever pull away from my hand again, like I have the fucking plague, don’t be surprised by my reaction.”

Catching his breath, Tate dared to ask, “Which will be?”

“Depending on my mood? Either a quick lesson on how much you like my hands or my back as I walk the fuck away.”

With that parting shot, Logan turned and walked out, giving Tate a taste of exactly what he did not want.

Chapter Eighteen

Six thirty rolled around, and so did the wind and rain. Damn, that wind is really humming. Tate had been lucky enough to get to work just before it had really started, but even he had raced against the fat drops of water that had started to fall.

One hour later though, and people were dashing into the bar from the sidewalk, drenched. It made for one messy entryway, but it was a busy Tuesday night with people trying to avoid the downpour.

Tate’s mind was preoccupied tonight—consumed by one person in particular. Ever since Logan had shown up, Tate’s life had gone from boring to one full of chaos and unanswered questions, but it was time to start working things out. He knew that the further he went with Logan, the more difficult the questions would become.

Dropping his insecurities though was a lot easier to think about than to actually do. Tate didn’t want his reactions to Logan to be based out of fear in any way—whether it be the fear of being seen together or the fear of losing what had just started. He wanted his actions to be made because of want and desire and the fact that what he was doing felt good for a change.

So, as he’d gotten dressed for work, Tate had made up his mind. He wanted Logan. He wanted to be able to touch him, kiss him, and do whatever the hell he felt like without having to worry about what anyone else thought.

And that—well, that meant accepting it himself.

As Tate wiped down the top of the bar, he let the thoughts he’d been contemplating start to really sink in. He knew he wasn’t quite ready to tackle people head-on, but he wasn’t going to hide how he felt either. He was going to act just as they did in private, and if someone wanted to question it, then they could fucking question it.

The bar door opened just as Tate glanced up, in stepped the man who had walked away from him hours earlier—except this time, Logan did not look polished and put-together. No, he looked like the complete opposite. Still dressed in his navy blue suit—well, half of it—Logan had the jacket over his head as he walked through the doors. When he lowered it, Tate saw just how ineffective it had been at keeping the rain from him. Logan was soaked.

As he moved the wet jacket in his hand, he looked to the hostess. She took it from him with a small smile, and Tate saw Logan mouth something, probably a thanks—or a, Damn, sorry about that—and then he turned.

Tonight, he was not wearing his glasses, and as their eyes collided and held, Logan raised a hand, pushing his fingers through his glistening black hair, and Tate felt his cock stir and his mouth dry.

The material of Logan’s shirt was glued to every muscle of his body from his solid arms to his flat abdomen. Those tailored dress pants were molded to his thighs and cradled the bulge in between, like a lover would, like he would.

Fuck, the man is hot.

Logan began walking toward him, and all Tate could think was, He should always be dressed in wet clothes. As he passed several other waterlogged customers, Tate noticed them looking him over as well, probably wondering how he still looked so appealing when he was just as wet as the rest of them.

Tate took in the water droplets sliding down Logan’s cheek, and his breathing faltered. When those same droplets then continued down to disappear into his shirt—holy shit—Tate knew he wanted to follow them with his tongue, and he wanted it now.

After what seemed like hours instead of minutes, Logan stopped in front of him.

Tate knew that the sexual longing he was feeling had to be written all over his face because the first thing out of Logan’s mouth was, “Do you have somewhere we can maybe dry me off?”

Tate didn’t hesitate, not even for a moment. If Logan wanted to go somewhere private, Tate was going to be the one to show him there. He was also going to be the one to stand and watch—or participate—as he dried off.

“Yeah, break room.” Tate stayed exactly where he was, fearing that Logan would disappear if he moved.

“Tate?”

Tate passed the towel between his hands. “Yeah?”

“Take me there.”

Stepping away from the bar, Tate turned, threw the towel on the back counter, and made his way down to the bar pass. He opened it up, and as Logan walked through past him, Tate could smell the aftershave lingering on his body.

Amelia walked up to the bar at that exact moment and looked between the two of them before focusing on Tate.

“Will you be okay for a few minutes? I’m just going to give him a towel from the back.”

Amelia’s mouth kicked up at the edges. “Yeah, Stacy just came back from her break, so we’ll be okay for a while. No rush.”

Tate had a feeling she was sizing him up, and more than likely, she was coming up with the correct assumption—especially considering Logan chose to move up and push against Tate’s side with his whole body, including the hardening cock he’d admired only moments ago. Before Tate had a chance to step away, he heard Logan whisper, “Hurry up, I want to taste you,” and that was all Tate needed.

Turning on his heel, Tate made his way to the back of the bar and into the break room that—thank God—was empty. As he entered silently, he was happy to hear the door click and lock. When he turned and saw Logan against the door, all Tate could think was, Now. I want him right now.

* * *

Logan might not have known the specifics of what was running through Tate’s mind, but he knew whatever it was, it was one hundred percent sexual.

The man had tracked him across the bar like a hunter stalking its prey, and for once, Logan had felt his own step falter. The fierce craving in Tate’s expression had made it difficult to walk from point A to point B and stay somewhat decent. But now? Now, as Logan stood there, with his back to the locked door and Tate looking at him like he wanted to consume him—well, Logan did nothing to conceal the way his cock was upright and erect.

“You’re so wet,” Tate uttered.

Logan felt an ironic laugh leave his throat. “Now, that’s something I bet you never expected to say to me.”

Before Logan could even blink, Tate was crushed up against his front with one of his legs maneuvered between his own. A stifled grunt escaped Logan as Tate opened his mouth and teased his tongue along his jaw to his ear where he told him in a voice that was gravelly and full of longing, “You look so hot right now. I wish I had the time to fuck you right here, right against the wall like you once dared me to.”

“Jesus, Tate.”

“Everyone in that bar watched you, all of them. You might as well take off your shirt with the way it’s sticking to you. Christ.” Tate nuzzled his lips under Logan’s ear where he gnawed gently with his teeth. “And this,” he explained, copping a quick feel between Logan’s legs, “I want this.”

“Then, fucking take it,” Logan goaded.

Nimble fingers found his belt buckle, and he heard the metallic snick and clink of it as it came undone. Then, the hot mouth by his ear was back, promising him exactly what he’d been fantasizing about.

“I want you in my mouth.”

Logan turned his head against the door and met the eyes blazing back at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Goddamn it, Logan. What have you done to me?”

Logan lifted his hand and pushed it into Tate’s hair. Holding it tight, he brought the man’s mouth to his own where he breathed against his lips, “Nothing yet, but I have plans. Get on your knees, Tate.”

Logan held his breath and congratulated himself for standing still as Tate lowered himself to his knees and looked up at him.

* * *

 Tate’s heart was thumping in his chest. He was down on his knees, and Logan’s hand was still tangled in his hair. Raising his face, he stared up at the man, leaning back against the door.

With his shirt still stuck to his skin, Logan’s tie looked beyond saving. Tate continued to watch his eyes darken. As the fingers in his hair loosened, the same hand smoothing over the back of his head, Tate was able to push aside the slight nerves he felt at what he was about to do.

Getting up onto his knees, Tate quickly undid the button and zipper of Logan’s pants. With them hanging open and the belt and water weighing them down, he looked back up to Logan, lifted his hand, and slid his fingers into the elastic of the black boxers.

He paused for a moment and asked, “Yes?”

“Hell yes,” Logan replied, thrusting his hips forward.

Tate followed a drop of water as it fell from the end of Logan’s tie and hit the back of his hand. Tate leaned forward and licked his own hand, and heard an expletive from above. He slipped his fingers further inside the material and pulled them down. Knowing they didn’t have long helped Tate to shove aside any doubt he might have had, and as he freed Logan’s erection, he found himself licking his lips.

“Oh God, Tate.”

Tate looked up to where Logan was watching him like a hawk. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re looking at me like you’re about to eat your favorite fucking meal.”

That boosted Tate’s confidence to a whole other level, and he smiled up at Logan as he encircled the base of the shaft in front of him. As Logan’s mouth fell open, Tate told him, “Who knows? Maybe I am.”

“God, please let that be the fucking truth,” Logan gritted out between a clenched jaw.

Tate lowered his eyes to his hand and glided his fist up the swollen, aching flesh he held. “What do you like?”

“Think about what you like and just—”

Tate flicked his tongue across the glistening tip, and Logan’s entire body vibrated against him.

He finished his thought by saying, “Ah shit, yes. Do that.”

Feeling encouraged, Tate did it again—lingering, he ran his tongue all around the head and down under to the sensitive glans. Checking to see if he was doing okay, he figured he must have been because Logan had shut his eyes, and his head was back against the door.

Constricting his fist, Tate drew his hand up the long length, and this time, when he lowered his lips, he sucked the head inside his mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum was the first thing Tate acknowledged, just before the rain-soaked, earthy scent that was all Logan hit him. This was definitely different, but as he relaxed into it, Tate became aware of how much he was enjoying it.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Tate.”

Hearing his name being cursed out above him was a major turn-on, but when Logan’s fingers curled in his hair, Tate knew he could become addicted to this. Down on his knees in front of Logan, he held all the power because, right now, Logan was his.

Releasing Logan’s shaft, Tate raised both hands and framed it with his thumbs and fingers. As it pointed out toward him, he sucked the tip back into his mouth, and then he took a deep breath and lowered his lips. He made it as far as he could before drawing up, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen.

“Breathe through your nose.”

Tate glanced up, slightly embarrassed, to see Logan staring down at him.

“When you do that again—and please, you have to do it again—breathe through your nose.”

Taking in the instruction, Tate once again lowered his head, but before he sucked him between his lips, he stopped and blew a breath across Logan’s wet skin. It was something he himself always liked, and judging by the hand that pulled his face closer to the cock waiting for him, it was also something Logan liked, too.

* * *

Hell, even when he’s not trying, Tate is a tease.

Every single move he made was designed to turn Logan on even more than he already was—or maybe it was just who was doing it.

As it was, with Tate on his knees and between his thighs, Logan was finding it difficult not to ram his hips forward and slide to the back of Tate’s throat.

Oh yeah, I can’t wait until I can do that, and fucking shoot my load all over his tongue. But Logan didn’t want to freak Tate out, and the slow, tentative way Tate was lowering his lips down him was sweet torture all on its own.

Closing his eyes, Logan concentrated on the small noises he could hear, and the fact that it was Tate making the sucking sounds was almost enough to make him lose it right there. Tate had his lips wrapped around his cock, and it was driving Logan insane to even think about it.

As the man in front of him seemed to grow more confident in his actions, Logan felt one of the hands on his groin move down between his legs, and he couldn’t help the curse that left him when that hand cupped his balls.

“Motherfucker.”

“Hmm,” Tate hummed as if he was—please let him be—enjoying every single thing he was doing.

Clasping Tate’s head, Logan gradually began to move his hips, sliding past the lips tormenting him. The hand between his thighs slowly pushed his balls up as Tate drew his mouth off him and leaned in to press his lips against Logan’s lower abdomen.

Logan hadn’t expect Tate to do anything other than what was the necessary, but as he stood there, Tate shoved his damp shirt aside and ran his tongue over the muscles beneath his navel. He rooted his nose in against Logan’s skin as though he loved the smell of him, and then with a hand on Logan’s balls and his chin bumping against his erection, Tate raised his eyes to meet with his.

The look of absolute lust and acceptance at what he was doing made Logan want to strip him of his clothes and take Tate on the floor—fuck the fact that he was at work. Instead, he took Tate’s head with both hands and urged him up his body. Logan wanted his mouth.

When Tate got to his feet, Logan attacked his lips, lowering one hand to the man’s ass and keeping one on his head. Tate’s body slammed against his, and he could feel the erection inside of Tate’s pants as he thrust hard against him.

Logan tasted the mouth that had just been wrapped around him, and as Tate sucked on his tongue, his hands found Logan’s tie, trying to loosen it. As he worked it free of the knot, so it hung loosely, Tate removed his mouth and lowered his lips to Logan’s neck.

Logan’s head thunked back on the door, and his cock continued to rub over Tate’s clothing as he heard the labored breathing by his ear.

“Congratulations,” Logan heard whispered as Tate’s hand snaked down between them, and his fingers wrapped around him.

“On?” he pushed past the lump in his throat.

Tate raised his head and looked him right in the eye. “Corrupting me.”

“I corrupted you? You’re the one stroking my dick.”

Tate stepped away from him and lowered back down onto his knees. “Yes, and you’re the one who convinced me to try, and now, I can’t seem to fucking stop.”

Logan’s mouth curved as he ran his finger down Tate’s stubble to his chin where he traced the masculine lips. “Then, by all means, don’t.”

* * *

Tate had been telling the truth. He couldn’t get enough of Logan as he opened his mouth and felt him slide back in along his tongue. Concentrating on his breathing, Tate closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Logan, using his mouth in a way he’d never done before. It was a unique experience—to be giving something and knowing exactly how good it felt to be the one receiving it. Tate knew how it felt to fuck a hot, willing mouth. Shit, he knew how good it was to slide into Logan’s.

Placing his hands on Logan’s legs, Tate felt the power of the muscles flex beneath his palms. Everything about what he was doing was arousing him—the cock between his lips, the soft grunts he could hear coming from Logan, and the hands holding him still, so his mouth could be used. Oh yeah. He hadn’t been lying. This was exactly what he wanted, and there was no way he was stopping.

Trailing his left hand down between Logan’s thighs, Tate moved his fingers in under his balls and pushed a single digit between those hot ass cheeks, and the reaction was immediate. The hands on his head jerked him closer as Tate’s finger burrowed higher until he found the warm hole he was searching for. When the tip of his finger touched against Logan, Tate lifted his vision to find Logan staring at him as he huffed through parted lips and continued to jam his hips forward, making sure he filled Tate’s mouth.

Tate, curious to see how Logan would react, slid his fingertip inside the other man and watched as Logan bared his teeth at him. His eyes narrowed as his ass clenched around Tate’s finger, and then Logan shoved as deep as he could go, making Tate cough and falter. As Logan seemed to realize what had happened, he began to pull out, but Tate chased him and took him back inside, craving that kind of intense reaction.

Gone now was the tease. Gone was the lesson on the hows and whys. Now came the need—the need to finish, the need to come, and the need to be part of the other person.

As Tate felt his cheeks become damp, he realized his eyes must have been watering, but he was determined, and he wanted this. When Logan looked down at him, Tate made sure to swirl his tongue around the cock pulled from his mouth.

“I’m really close, Tate. If you don’t want this—”

Tate didn’t answer verbally. Instead, he slid his lips forward over Logan until the other man got the message and started up a fast rhythm of pumping in and out of his mouth.

Nothing had prepared Tate to feel as he did while he knelt before Logan with his mouth full and his fingers moving. As he watched the man above, who’d somehow crawled under his skin, he realized he was feeling things way beyond sex. He realized that the sex would never have happened if there wasn’t more there for him, and just as that realization hit him, Logan’s fingers twisted in his hair.

The cock in Tate’s mouth pulsated, and then a hot jet of salty fluid hit his tongue, shocking his taste buds. He pulled his lips off the man in front of him, and even though he hadn’t expected the heat or the flavor, Tate found his curiosity made him swallow.

“Jesus, you swallowed, too? You are perfect.”

Tate’s eyes crawled up the relaxed-looking Logan, and when they met, Tate touched his tongue to his bottom lip.

“Was it…you know, okay?”

Logan slid down the door until his ass was on the floor. “You literally made my knees give out.”

Tate leaned forward, but before he kissed Logan, he stopped.

“What?” Logan asked with a raised brow.

“Do you care if I kiss you…you know, after you just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Logan grabbed him and took his mouth in a tongue-thrusting kiss.

Tate moaned with pent-up frustration and followed Logan until his back hit the door with a loud thump.