“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.