Trust (Temptation #3)(27)

Logan’s expression was one of concentrated lust, and with each tap, tap, tap on the keyboard, Tate felt his dick pound in time. He didn’t dare turn away from the sinfully attractive businessman stripping him with his eyes. Then Logan slowly closed his laptop and put it on the small table beside his chair, and Tate held his breath for whatever was about to happen.

“Come here,” Logan ordered, crooking his finger at him, “and I’ll show you how I get my facts.”

Tate was off of the couch and standing in front of Logan without a second thought. He looked down at where Logan was lounged back in his seat and saw the rigid length of his erection outlined in his pants. Christ, I want him.

“Take off your shirt,” Logan instructed.

Tate reached for the hem of his T-shirt and drew it over his head. Throwing it to the ground, he watched with interest as Logan unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up his forearm. He then repeated the move on the other side, all the while acting as if Tate standing there half naked didn’t bother him in the least. Tate, however, was having a difficult time remaining as unaffected and reminded himself not to lunge for him.

“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.