Текст книги "Try: 1"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Tate’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out as his eyes clouded over, and he once again let them focus on Logan’s lips.

“But I don’t think you want to talk anymore, do you? You want to do exactly what I want to do,” Logan taunted as he leaned over, and an inch from Tate’s lips, he suggested, “You want to fuck.”

As their eyes connected, Logan slipped his tongue out and touched Tate’s upper lip. “Don’t you?”

Chapter Ten

Tate could feel every single pulse in his engorged cock as Logan’s tongue teased and tormented his mouth. As he listened to the suggestive words coming from Logan’s lips, all Tate wanted was to ease the ache between his own legs. If that meant fucking Logan, then maybe that was what needed to happen.

But damn, am I ready for all of that?

Before Tate could respond to the question hanging between them, Logan palmed his chest and pushed him back into the corner of the couch. When his back met with the soft leather, a strong thigh slid between his legs, and Tate groaned from the relief of finally having something hard to press against.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Logan encouraged, placing a hand on the back of the couch and the other on the armrest behind Tate’s head. Using them as an anchor, Logan rolled his hips downward and proved just how forceful he could be.

Tate’s head was resting against the couch as Logan looked down between them while he thrust his hips, over and over, creating a heated friction that had Tate’s mind spinning out of his head. The sexual hunger on Logan’s face as he watched their clothed bodies connecting made Tate wonder just how combustible things would be when their clothes finally came off.

Feeling the need to touch, now more than ever, Tate grabbed a hold of Logan’s hips and pulled the man down against him with much more force than he’d intended. The delicious pressure of having Logan’s shaft grind against his own was too much to forgo, so Tate arched up, anxiously meeting the steady rub Logan was giving with every single punch of his hips.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered.

Tate’s fingers dug harder into his hips, and his left hand slid down to Logan’s ass, squeezing it, as he propelled himself up again, trying to reach for something more.

* * *

Logan looked at the man under him. Jesus, Tate is gorgeous.

They weren’t even naked, and Logan was pretty sure he could die happy from merely dry-humping him all night, but that was not how he wanted this to end.

Slowing his hips down, Logan moved away and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. Naked from the waist up with one leg supporting him on the floor and his other kneeling between Tate’s thighs, he heard, “Wow,” as Tate looked him over.

Logan went to laugh, but it came out more as a cough when he looked down to where Tate, once again, shocked him by pressing his hand between his thighs to palm his own erection.

“Feeling good there?” Logan questioned.

Tate’s response of a mumbled, “Mhmm,” made Logan’s desire to touch him even stronger.

Lowering his gaze to the uncomfortably tight-looking jeans, Logan fingered the button. “Yes?”

With an arch of his pelvis, Tate replied on a rush of air, “Yes.”

Quick fingers went into action as Logan undid the button and unzipped Tate’s jeans. Spreading them apart, he raised his eyes to where Tate was watching him intently. “Lift.”

No hesitation was shown as Tate lifted his hips, and Logan pulled the denim down to his upper thighs, revealing black cotton boxers—the exact kind he’d imagined the other night when they’d been talking on the phone.

Visible beneath the shorts was the obvious proof of Tate’s excitement. His thick shaft was distinctly outlined by the fabric, and the sight made Logan’s confined cock jealous. Slipping his fingers into the waistband, he tugged the material down Tate’s lean hips, and he almost thanked the guy for automatically lifting his lower half.

“Christ, look at you. You’re going to kill me,” Logan swore when he was finally staring at the cropped curls surrounding Tate’s flushed and straining erection. Not having any lube handy, Logan spit into his palm a couple of times.

Welcome to my world, Tate. Now, you just lie there and let me devour you.

Logan fisted Tate’s steely length, mesmerized by what he was finally seeing and… mmm, squeezing. Satisfied by the loud, gasping response, he started to stroke and pull at the cock that was finally in his hand. Glancing back up to where Tate was sprawled on the couch, Logan noticed that he’d tipped his head back and shut his eyes.

Not wanting him to forget where he was and whom he was with, Logan leaned over and did something he’d been dying to do. He licked Tate’s throat, right across his Adam’s apple. Tate grunted and lifted his head to look at him, as he jammed his hips up into the palm giving him a solid hand job. Then, just as Logan was about to say something, Tate grabbed the back of his neck and he pulled him down until their lips crushed together, forcefully pushing his tongue into his mouth.

* * *

I am burning up, was all Tate could think.

The strong hand jerking him continued to work his flesh like a fucking pro. Logan’s mouth was eating at his, like a starved man, and Tate was finding it difficult to slow his body down. He didn’t want to come yet. He wanted something else. He wanted—more. So, he did what he knew would get Logan’s attention—he bit down on the man’s lip.

Instantly, Logan stopped and lifted his head. With his fingers still wrapped firmly around Tate’s cock, he smiled down at him like a fucking deviant.

“Want something, Tate?” Logan stopped moving his hand altogether.

Tate nudged his hips up into the hold Logan had on him, but the man was not budging.

“I asked you a question. Do you want something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. What do you want? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Tate’s mind went into overdrive at the sexual promise.

“Just open your mouth and say, Logan, I want you to…”

Tate bit down on his own lip and squirmed slightly at the first thought that popped into his head. That was when Logan’s expression went from patiently waiting to blazing inferno as he looked at the hard-on in his hand.

“Damn Tate, something just got you extra excited. I swear to God your cock just grew an inch. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

That mouth of Logan’s was going to get him every fucking time. Not only was it dirty, it was sexy, and it drove Tate right over the edge of his sanity and into the most dangerous of waters.

Ever since he’d met Logan, he’d wanted him to shut his mouth, punch him in it, or dive inside for a taste—and right this second was no different. All Tate could think about was pushing what was in Logan’s fist between those smart-ass, arrogant lips and making the guy shut up by sucking his dick. But thinking it and asking for it were two totally different things. So, he remained stubbornly silent as Logan continued to hold him captive with his warm palm and his taunting stare.

“Do you want me to stop?” Logan asked.

Tate shook his head as Logan crowded down over him and braced his free hand on the armrest. He could feel Logan’s breath in a hot sigh by his ear as he stroked his fist up Tate’s length in a slow, torturous pull.

 And then, Logan asked exactly the right question, “Do you want me to suck your cock, Tate?”

Letting out a groan of pure frustration, Tate turned his head on the armrest, so he was nose-to-nose with Logan. As he stared into devilish blue eyes, his whole body vibrated against the couch.

And finally, Tate gave in. “Yes.”

* * *

Logan pressed a hard kiss to Tate’s mouth before he backed away and released his fist. Pushing off of Tate, Logan stood in front of him. “Sit up with your back against the couch.”

Tate shifted to a seated position, and spread his legs out in a straddle as far as his jeans would allow.

Oh hell, was all Logan could think as Tate’s cock pointed proudly toward its owner. There was no need for it to worry. Logan knew exactly who it belonged to, and he wanted to make it his.

Dropping to his knees in front of Tate, Logan didn’t wait around as he pushed them apart and moved closer between. Tate was silent as he watched from above as though he were witnessing the act, not actually experiencing it.

But that is all about to change, Logan decided with a smug grin.

He lowered his head to drag his tongue from the base of Tate’s erection right up to the very tip, and that was when Tate decided to join in on the action. A firm hand came up to grip Logan’s hair, and he winced at the force that was used. But as soon as the shock from having Logan’s mouth on him was over, Tate’s hold loosened, and Logan brought his hand up to smooth his palm across the muscular thigh beside him.

As he flicked his tongue around the broad plum-shaped head, he could taste the salty evidence of Tate’s arousal. Feeling his own erection pounding out a staccato rhythm, Logan decided now was not the time to play around and tease. That could happen later. Right now, there needed to be release, and it needed to be fast.

Spreading his palms out on Tate’s thighs, Logan smoothed his hands up until his thumbs were framing Tate’s pelvic bone, and he could cup the root of his agitated flesh. Logan lifted his head and made direct eye contact with the bewildered man above. With a wink at him, Logan then lowered his mouth to slide his lips down over Tate’s beautifully cut cock.

The harsh curse that pulled from Tate’s throat as he pushed into his mouth with more force was almost enough to make Logan come. The hands in his hair tightened as Logan started to drag his lips up the rigid length pumping in and out from his mouth.

Logan could hear Tate’s breathing pick up as his pace increased, and Logan found that he didn’t even need to employ skill this time around. Tate wanted something to fuck, and Logan’s mouth was the lucky winner. So, Logan held on to his thighs, opened his mouth, and let Tate shove in between his lips like they’d been doing this for years.

When Logan felt one of the hands at the side of his head come around to his cheek, he closed his eyes, enjoying the moment where rough fingers stroked the day-old growth. They then moved down to his chin where Tate tugged it between his thumb and index finger, signaling he wanted more of Logan’s mouth around him.

Opening his eyes and getting up high on his knees, Logan lifted his mouth off of Tate with a soft popping sound and curled his fingers around the glistening shaft, angling it straight up at him. Bending back down, Logan circled the tip of Tate with his tongue.

Concentrating on the sensitive glans, he heard Tate mutter a soft, “Fuck,” before Logan took him all the way to the back of his throat. With a slight grunt and cough, Logan slid his lips back up and waited for Tate to move. It didn’t take long.

Confident hands took Logan’s head and started to direct his mouth at the speed and pace Tate wanted. Methodically, he thrust between Logan’s lips, cursing and groaning with every gratifying entry and exit his cock made from Logan’s mouth, and when Logan moved a hand to cup Tate’s balls, he seemed to lose all finesse.

“Logan,” he warned grimly.

Logan’s fingers cradled and massaged the sensitive sac tucked up between Tate’s legs. Logan knew what was coming, and he wanted it. He craved every last drop of cum to hit his tongue and slide down his throat. Only then, would he know exactly what Tate Morrison tasted like.

Holding Tate’s leg with one hand, he gently squeezed the balls he was palming in the other, and he fastened his mouth around the intrusion shoving relentlessly down his throat. Logan closed his eyes as Tate pushed into his mouth for the final time, and then Tate let out the most satisfying shout Logan had ever heard as he came in a hot, sticky torrent down his throat.

* * *

Jesus H. Christ.

Tate was slumped back against the couch, trying to catch his breath, and staring at Logan, who was still kneeling between his legs. He couldn’t even think right now as Logan’s mouth left his sensitive flesh, and he sat back on his heels.

Logan’s sexy—not to mention, talented—mouth was now swollen from having been wrapped around him for the past several minutes.

Or was it more? It’d seemed like a fucking eternity to him.

As Logan licked his lips like he’d just eaten the best meal in the world, it occurred to Tate that he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever swallowed. Diana had hated it, but Logan had refused to move away. In actuality, he’d sucked harder and faster until the end where he’d seemingly taken immense pleasure from swallowing everything Tate had given him.

“Um…” Tate reached a hand up to scrub it over his face.

That was when a low laugh hit his ears. Dropping his hand down, he quirked a brow at Logan, who was still on his knees, laughing.

“What?” Tate demanded.

“Nothing.”

That got him curious. As he looked down, he noticed that he needed to cover himself, and he found it interesting that it hadn’t even occurred to him. He just wanted to know what was so damn funny.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look like I sucked your brains out through your cock.”

Tate couldn’t disagree with that assessment one little bit. “You might have.”

The look Logan gave him was satisfied and smug, and at that moment, Tate realized that he hadn’t done anything for the guy in the last portion of the initiate Tate program. He hadn’t kissed him, touched him, or sucked him. He’d just sat on the couch and selfishly gotten a brain-destroying blow job.

Well, the guy did offer.

“Ah…sorry, I…you know, came before you—”

You lame ass. Tate groaned, lifting his hips to pull his boxers and jeans up. Just as he had them back in place and covering his groin, he felt a hand on his and saw that Logan was touching him and giving him a look full of irony.

“You didn’t,” he said.

Tate didn’t understand at first until Logan looked down at himself and shrugged.

“I came in my pants, like a fucking high schooler.”

Tate couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the self-disgust he’d heard in Logan’s tone.

“Oh. Well, at least those were just your track pants.”

Logan’s brow rose. “I’ll have you know that these are Armani track pants.”

More at ease now, Tate sat forward until he was only an inch from Logan, and reached out to cup his face. Bringing Logan the rest of the way forward with a slight pull of his hands, Tate pressed their lips together and marveled at the rough texture of Logan’s cheeks.

“Huh,” Tate mused out loud, still running his palms over the coarse hair on Logan’s face.

When he pulled away, Logan frowned, and Tate wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t have done that.

Then, Logan’s mouth morphed into a smile. “So, what do you want to try next?”

Chapter Eleven

“I think we should have that talk now, don’t you?”

Letting his head fall back, Logan groaned. “If you insist. I, personally, think we should do something different altogether.”

“I’m sure you do,” Tate told him.

Logan looked at the man who’d completely surprised him in the last half hour and raised a questioning brow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.”

“Yeah, uh…that’s probably not a bad idea. Is there somewhere I could go to have a smoke first?”

Moving to his feet, Logan winced at the sticky condition in his pants. High schooler was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come while still wearing his pants, but damn, Tate finally giving in and letting him suck on him had done it.

“You smoke?” Logan asked. “Ah, that’s what it is.” He thought about the faint taste of tobacco under the overpowering cinnamon as he made his way to the dark drapes behind the single recliner. “That’s a nasty habit, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Tate stood and pushed his hand into his back pocket, presumably to get out his pack of cigarettes. “I only smoke when I drink.”

As Logan pulled the curtain back, revealing the door to his balcony, he looked over to where Tate had moved around the couch. “But you’re not drinking.”

When Tate got to him, he brought the white pack up and tapped it against his palm before opening the flap. Bringing it to his mouth, he pulled out one of the white cylinders between his lips.

“No, I’m not,” he mumbled around the tip in his mouth. “But I just came from a guy giving me a blow job, so my nerves are shot to shit.” Fishing a blue lighter out of his jeans pocket, Tate gave him a wiry smirk. “Don’t judge me.”

Logan chuckled, holding up his palms. “I’m not. And for the record, this guy enjoyed giving you head. So, if you want to get used to it, just ask.”

Tate’s eyes moved to his mouth, and Logan knew he was remembering exactly how it had felt to have his cock sucked by him.

Unlocking the door, Logan pushed it open and felt the cool night air hit him as Tate made his way outside.

“I’m going to go and have that shower,” he said as he watched Tate lean against the railing, lighting his cigarette. “Unless, of course, you want me to wait, so you can join me?”

Logan paused as Tate looked back at him. The wind ruffled the loose hair around his face as he took a drag of the cigarette and then blew out the smoke.

What a turn-on, Logan thought.

Watching Tate smoke might have just become a new fascination of his. The man looked striking, standing there with the city lights as his backdrop, and the smoke sensually curling away from him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for…all of that just yet.”

As Logan raised one of his arms up and stretched it above his head against the doorjamb, he felt immense satisfaction from the way Tate’s eyes skidded down over his naked chest and abdomen.

“You sure about that?” Logan reached his free hand across his body to rub his shoulder.

Still looking back at him, Tate watched him like a dog eyeing a bone. It was obvious he liked what he was looking at, but at the same time, he still seemed to be holding back.

When it was clear that Tate wasn’t going to answer, Logan tried his name. “Tate?”

“Huh?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait?”

As Tate took another long drag, he turned around completely, leaning back against the rail, as he unapologetically checked him out.

“You’re really good-looking. It pisses me off.”

Logan brought his arm down and leaned against the door. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you, minus the pissed-off part. Why does it annoy you?”

Shaking his head, almost as though he didn’t believe his own thoughts, Tate admitted, “Because you make me want to do things that I shouldn’t.”

Logan wanted to know every little thing Tate was thinking, but he also knew he desperately needed a shower. So, he walked forward to Tate, reached out, and took the cigarette from him. Bringing it to his own lips, he took a drag, and as he gave it back, he blew the smoke out just past Tate’s face.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to suck on what you were sucking. I’m going to go and take a shower. If you want one, the second bedroom has an en suite. Then, Tate?”

Tate was staring at him with unflinching focus, holding the cigarette down by his leg, forgotten.

“I want to know all the things you want to do but shouldn’t.”

Tate’s tongue came out to moisten his lips.

Logan couldn’t help himself as he added, “So, we can start crossing them off the list.”

With that parting comment and Tate’s long exhale, Logan turned and made his way back into his condo.

* * *

 As Logan disappeared inside, Tate turned back to face the lights of downtown Chicago, and he had to wonder for the millionth time, What am I doing here with him? But the answer was pretty obvious now—

Isn’t it? Just say it. Just admit it out loud, and then maybe it will get easier.

“I’m sexually attracted to Logan Mitchell—a man,” he muttered into the quiet night.

Nope, that didn’t help.

He couldn’t seem to turn off his brain, and all Tate kept thinking about was what everyone in his life would think if they knew what had just happened here. Even more perplexing was the fact that he knew the shitstorm it would stir, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing it all again.

Finishing his cigarette, Tate crouched down, pressed the butt to the concrete, and made his way inside to look for the garbage. As he stepped back into the living room, he looked at the couch where he and Logan had been earlier. Automatically, Tate was hit with a vision of everything that had taken place, and he realized that he wanted to go and find Logan.

Moving to the kitchen, he placed the butt in the sink, not wanting to snoop, and then he walked through the living room and down the hall to where he could hear the shower running.

Stopping outside the door, Tate thought about exactly what he wanted to happen here. He knew that going down this rabbit hole would turn his life completely upside down. Yet, even as he thought it, his feet were carrying him closer to the partially shut door.

Pushing it open, he stepped into the bedroom and took a moment to look around. It was full of dark mahogany wood and cream walls. Tate didn’t allow himself long to linger, knowing that if he did, he’d more than likely leave. So, instead, he made his way toward the open door where Logan’s track pants were on the floor.

Closing his eyes for a second, Tate told himself, I can do this. Hell, I want to do this, and moved farther into the humid bathroom. The shower was on the left side of the tiled room, and up against the right was a double vanity. He could hear the steady stream of water as he rested his ass up against the edge of the first sink, and he waited.

The glass door was shut and covered with steam, only allowing him a partial view of the man inside. As Tate leaned on the sink, he imagined what would happen when the door was pulled open, and his cock stiffened to full mast.

And that’s what it really comes down to, he thought. My cock wants Logan. I want Logan. Hell, standing here in the same bathroom, thinking about him naked, turns me on more than anything or anyone else.

Just as that thought slammed home with the force of a Mack truck, the water shut off, and the glass door slid open.

* * *

Logan had resisted the urge to spend too long under the warm spray, instead wanting to get out and find Tate—or more importantly, make sure that Tate hadn’t left. Lathering up all the important areas, he then rinsed off and pulled the door back, ready to go and hunt down the other man.

That wasn’t necessary though. Tate was standing in the bathroom, up against the vanity, with his arms and legs crossed, staring directly at him.

“Hello,” Logan stated calmly, not wanting to spook Tate, as he ran a hand through his hair.

Tate shifted his hips against the counter, lowering his eyes to zoom in on—

Yep, my now swelling cock.

“Hi.”

Not possessing one shy bone in his body, including the one standing tall and erect, Logan stepped out of the shower and walked steadily toward the man who was frozen against his sink. When he was close enough that he was dripping water onto Tate’s jeans, Logan stopped and waited for Tate to look at him.

Slowly, Tate raised his head, and the heated connection they shared, was what had Tate shifting off the vanity. Logan was sure it happened much sooner than it seemed but as Tate’s fully clothed body brushed up against his naked thighs, and—fuck yes—his cock, Logan bit back a curse.

Deciding he needed to speak or he’d end up humping Tate’s leg, Logan stated, “I thought you wanted to take a shower.”

“I decided I wanted something else.”

Hell, how does this guy always shake my steady footing?

“And what would that be?” Logan asked.

He watched Tate reach out a seriously shaky hand to trace a line down the center of his chest. The rough finger moved between Logan’s pecs and down to his navel where it stopped and flirted with the damp hair just beneath.

“I want to touch you.”

Logan had been all ready to talk around five minutes ago when he’d been in the shower calming himself down. But now? Now, he was ready to go again, and Tate was driving him out of his mind.

Clenching his jaw, Logan stepped forward, muscling Tate back to the sink, and then kept advancing. Tate’s ass hit the edge, and Logan moved slightly, so he had one foot between Tate’s spread ones, and one on the outside of his right thigh. Pressing his naked cock against the rough denim, Logan groaned as he clasped Tate’s arm for support.

Tate shocked the hell out of him by wrapping his arms around his waist and clutching Logan’s bare ass as he hauled him in closer.

Tipping his head back, Logan ground his hips down on Tate’s strong thigh as he growled out, “Jes-us.”

“Fuck,” Tate sighed.

Logan brought his head back up to look Tate in the eye. Parting his mouth, Logan licked his lip and continued to rub himself off on Tate’s leg.

“You still wanna talk?” Logan somehow asked through his lust.

He could feel Tate’s hot breath against his cheek while moving his mouth to Tate’s ear where he bit down gently. “If you want to talk, talk, or I am going to unzip your jeans and rub my cock against that fucking hard-on. And trust me, there will be no talking after that.”

Tate reluctantly released his hold, and Logan slowly took a step back.

“Talk or get undressed, but pick something in the next two seconds, so I don’t lose my goddamn mind.”

* * *

Tate definitely wanted to talk, but as soon as Logan was in front of him, completely naked, wet and erect, his brain had shut down, and his body had taken over.

The man was ripped. From his solid arms to his muscular chest, which had a fine dusting of dark hair, and then his abs and that treasure trail leading down to…

Jesus, how am I supposed to talk? Tate barely had blood left in his brain to remind himself to breathe.

“Can you maybe put some clothes on?”

“No. Next question?”

Tate frowned. “It would help if you put something on.”

“Why? You seemed comfortable enough a moment ago, and if you weren’t, you should have waited for me to get dressed.” Logan reached out, snagged a towel, and dried himself. When he got to his hair, he rubbed it a couple of times before throwing the towel on the floor.

“That’s hardly the problem,” Tate muttered.

Logan moved toward the door leading to the bedroom, and Tate found himself looking at the firm, round ass he had been kneading just minutes ago.

“I didn’t think so. Well, come on then. Let’s get the talking over and done with, so we can move on to the fun part. You know, the part where my cock gets to meet yours?”

As Logan exited the room, Tate shook his head incredulously. The guy really did walk to the beat of his own drum. Stepping away from the sink where his ass had taken up residence, Tate made his way into the bedroom to see Logan lying casually on the mattress with his arms behind his head. He had a sheet draped across his waist, and somehow, Tate was positive that Logan had not put on any clothes.

 “How does this work?” Tate finally voiced the number-one question that had been bugging him.

“Well…” Logan removed one of his hands to lay it down beside him on the bed.

Tate’s eyes were drawn to where Logan’s hand had landed, right beside the discernable tent that had formed under the sheet.

“That depends on what exactly you’re referring to. The first thing that needs to happen is for you to take off your clothes.”

Tate walked over toward the foot of the bed. “Yeah, that much I know, thanks. I’m unsure of the details, smart-ass. You know, like who…” Yeah, saying this is much harder than thinking it.

“Like, who fucks who?”

Apparently, it wasn’t an issue for Logan.

“Jesus, do you have to be so—”

“So, what? To the point? Come on, Tate, that’s the thing you’re most worried about, right?” Logan raised a brow. “I’ll make it really simple. I can’t wait for you to fuck me. Does that clear things up for you?”

It sure as hell does. But somehow, Tate didn’t think that was all there was to it, and he was right.

Logan moved his hand to where the sheet was covering him and started to stroke himself. “For now.”

Tate couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he just stood there with his lips pulled tight.

“Take off your clothes, Tate.”

Tate grabbed the hem of his shirt, removed it swiftly, and threw it off to the side, not even caring where it landed. Tate’s mouth finally parted as Logan started to move his feet, pulling the sheet down, and—

Yeah, the guy didn’t bother with clothes.

As Logan’s nude body came back into view, Tate wondered how it would feel to press his own nakedness against him.

“And the rest,” Logan told him in a voice that seemed to have the same effect as hypnosis.

Tate kicked off his shoes and undid his jeans, removing the rest of his clothes. When he was finally undressed, Logan had both hands down between his thighs. One was jerking his thick shaft, and the other was dipping down to play with his balls. All the while, Logan’s intent gaze focused on Tate’s body.

“Fuck, just stand there. I can do this all day. You don’t have to do anything for me to get off on you.”

Tate felt some of his nerves and apprehension leave as Logan continued pleasuring himself.

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready to…you know, do everything you want,” Tate finally spoke, answering sincerely.

Logan stopped what he was doing and leveled steady eyes on him. “We’ll go as slow as you like.”

“Which for you is full speed ahead?”

“Usually.”

Huh, Tate thought, and then asked the other question that had been on his mind, “Why are you being so patient with me?”

Logan let go of the hold he had on himself. “Why are you even here with me?”

Good comeback, damn lawyer.

“Tate, you’re sexy as fuck. The minute I saw you, I got hard. When you opened your mouth, I became one hundred percent interested. And when you kissed me? I lost my damn mind. I’ll be as patient as I need to, to get you inside me. Anything else?”

Tate’s cock seemed to understand because it proudly proclaimed its interest in the action it wanted.

“Get into bed,” Logan coaxed.

“I think I better stay here while we talk.”

“We’re still talking?” Logan asked in a tone that suggested he was over the conversation section of the evening.

“This is a big deal for me. You might be used to putting your dick wherever and whenever, but mine has only visited pussy, and I’m freaking out a little. So, would you hang on, and cut me some slack?”