“You okay?” he heard Tate ask around what sounded like a swallow of air.

The laugh that came from him was strained. “Yes, I keep telling myself that you’ve never done this, and I need to slow down.”

As the final word left his mouth, Tate’s hand moved across his lower back.

“It’s funny you know, I expected you to be different.”

Logan’s brain was trying to stay with the program at hand—initiate the new guy. But come the hell on. What am I supposed to do when the new guy keeps changing all the fucking rules?

“What do you mean, you expected me to be different?” He released Tate’s hair, and reluctantly sat back on the couch.

Tate removed his hands from Logan’s waist and ran a palm up over his face. “Nothing bad. I just expected you to be more…”

“More?” Logan pushed.

Tate looked away then. It seemed his nerves had finally caught up with him.

He shrugged. “More forceful. Less willing to stop.”

Logan raised a brow and took Tate’s chin between his fingers, pulling his face back, so he was looking right at him. “I was trying to let you talk. You told me you wanted to. You had questions, remember?”

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.