Trust (Temptation #3)(46)

Yeah, it’s time to change this game up a little.

Logan straightened to his full height, and when they were toe-to-toe, he reached for the back of Tate’s neck and pulled him in so their lips were touching. “I heard you, but if you want to bend me to your will tonight, you’re going to have to make me.” And with that, he took Tate’s mouth in a fiery kiss.

He parted his lips as Tate’s hands cupped his cheeks, aligning their mouths for a stronger connection. When Tate’s tongue slipped inside, Logan sucked on it. He couldn’t get enough of the taste. The cinnamon was strong after Tate had chewed that piece of gum earlier, but clearly, it was gone now, because he was investigating every inch of that delicious mouth and it was nowhere to be found.

His ass hit his desk as one of Tate’s hands grasped his waist, and when he smoothed his palm up to tangle his fingers in Tate’s hair, a low groan left him. Tate dragged his lips away, and the desire swirling in his eyes just about had Logan giving in and saying, “To hell with this. Take what you want.” But then Tate reached between them and started to unbuckle his belt.

With their eyes locked, Tate got the buckle undone and was pulling it free of the loops. As it was dropped to the floor, the button on his pants was next, then the zipper, and before he had a second to return any of Tate’s fast moves, that lecherous grin reappeared and Tate slipped his hand inside to wrap his fingers around his stiff cock.

“Jesus,” Logan swore as Tate kissed his cheek, nibbling his way up to his ear.

“So you want me to make you do what I want? Does that mean you’re going to put up a fight? Because so far, you’re not doing so well.”

Logan tried to remember exactly what his original plan had been, but when Tate’s sharp teeth bit his lobe, he reached down to steady himself on the edge of his desk.

Holy shit. This was so not the sweet, Catholic Tate between his legs. No. This man was hell-bent on giving it to him hard and fast, exactly the way he needed it—and he couldn’t wait.

A throaty growl escaped him, and Logan finally managed to regain some semblance of control. He grasped the back of Tate’s head and yanked that teasing mouth from his ear, and when they were facing one another, Logan felt his lips curl as he slowly guided Tate down—down to his knees in front of him.

And fuck yes, he went.





* * *



Tate glanced up Logan’s body from where he was now kneeling, and when their eyes collided, Logan tore his sweater off and began to unfasten his shirt. Once it was free and he’d yanked it from his shoulders, Tate rose up to finger the material of his pants. He slid his fingers under the edge of the fabric and pulled them, along with his boxers, down, freeing Logan’s thick shaft.

A strained sound came from above, and as Logan pumped his hips forward in an effort to get closer to his mouth, Tate circled the base of his cock with his fingers and used his tongue to tease the sensitive underside of the plump head.

“Tate, for fuck’s sake,” Logan cursed.

Raising his head, he caught Logan’s intense look and tongued the weeping slit.

“Ahh…shit.”

Tate lifted his mouth and rooted his nose in against his pelvic bone, kissing his way down to Logan’s balls as he pushed his pants to his ankles. He figured that, if he ignored him long enough, then—

“Tate?” Logan growled and pulled his head up by his hair.

Yes. There he is. The take-what-I-fucking-want Logan that I love.

“What?” he asked as innocently as he could manage with Logan practically fucking his cock against the side of his face. He loved the fierce restraint he saw in him, as if he were trying to hold back but was about to snap.

“Fucking suck it. Now.”





* * *





Logan could feel every pulse in his dick as Tate’s stubble abraded his sensitive skin. Tate started to lick and suck at him again, but just like before, he continued to deny him the hot, wet slide of his mouth—and hell if that rebellious side that fights me doesn’t make me want him more.

He still had a tight hold on the desk, but when Tate sat back on his heels and unbuckled his own belt, Logan asked, “Was I not clear enough for you?”

Tate didn’t answer as he then sucked a finger into his mouth, and Logan swore he’d never seen a filthier look in all of his life than the one Tate was aiming at him.

“Turn around,” he demanded from where he was kneeling, and Logan found it telling that, even when Tate was at his feet, he still had the ability to control his every move.

“Excuse me—”

“Turn around, Logan.”

The order was harsh. It was raw and so goddamned sexy that he had to clamp a fist around his cock to stop himself from coming. The heat in Tate’s eyes was smoldering, and Logan found himself turning the fuck around.