Tate could see the silky, black hair of Logan’s head as he dipped down under him to torment with teasing licks and flicks of that rapacious tongue. He was relentless in his mission to have him on the ragged edge, and Tate knew when Logan lifted his head, sat back on his knees, and looked over his shoulder to the mirror at him that he’d just fucking started.
“You know what I see, Tate?”
Tate wasn’t quite sure he was ready for this. Wasn’t sure his legs would be strong enough to hold him up. But by God, he was willing to chance it.
“What?” he demanded.
Logan must’ve liked the bite to his tone, because his eyes darkened in the reflection and he licked his lower lip. “I see your fingers gripping the wall so hard your knuckles have turned white. Your left bicep is bulging, trying to keep you steady, and I see that thick cock in your fist that you want to shove in my mouth right now.” Logan turned back from the mirror and looked up at him from where he was kneeling on the ground. “Don’t you?”
Tate fucked his hips forward, and when the shiny head of him bumped against Logan’s lips, he parted them.
“Give it to me.”
Tate needed no further invitation.
He gazed down his body and guided his erection into Logan’s waiting mouth. As his lips slid along his shaft, Tate glanced up to the mirror, balanced with the one hand on the vanity, and brought the other to the back of Logan’s head.
Fucking hell, the sight of Logan Mitchell naked, on his knees, and sucking his cock down his throat made Tate feel like the luckiest fucker on the planet—he looked unbelievable there.
Tate pushed his hips forward, and with his leg still propped on the stool, he got a nice, deep slide. Luckily for him, Logan was practically a god when it came to giving head. He was so far down his throat that Logan’s nose was in his pubic hair and his lips were touching the skin of his groin.
“Logan,” he moaned and pulled himself free.
As Logan drew his lips off him, Tate twisted his fingers in his hair and tugged. When Logan got to his feet, the side of his mouth quirked and he walked around behind him, seeming to know he was ready for more.
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you ever since we parked my car at O’Hare.”
Tate closed his eyes as Logan’s palms smoothed down his sides to his ass and squeezed.
“You’ve been thinking about it too,” Logan continued, using his fingers to spread him apart, and then he swiped his tongue along his jaw. “Haven’t you?”
Tate clenched his teeth at the pleasure Logan was dishing out, and then sharp teeth nipped at his lobe when he didn’t answer.
“Haven’t you, Tate?”
Tate’s eyes found Logan’s in the mirror, and the feral fucking look swirling in them had him nodding fast. “Yes.”
He didn’t dare look anywhere but at the sinfully attractive man whose erection was rubbing a sticky, wet trail against the crack of his ass as he placed his cheek beside his own in the mirror.
They were both so incredibly different from the other, but as they stood there, rooted to their spots, they had one thing in common. The raw desire and emotion on their faces matched, and as Logan reached for the bottle of lube and opened it, Tate wanted to beg him to hurry.
“Wrap your left arm around my neck,” Logan ordered when he put the bottle back on the counter and wrapped his lubed-up fingers around his aching shaft. Tate’s eyes closed at Logan’s sensual touch, and as his head fell back on his shoulder, he heard him praise, “Perfection.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tate was better than any fantasy Logan could’ve imagined as he stretched back against him with his leg still propped on the stool. He glided his slippery fist up and down his hard flesh, and with every wet slide, Tate would punch his hips forward—he was beautiful to watch.
“Open your eyes and see how amazing you are,” he said.
Once Tate’s heavy eyes had opened and found his, Logan greedily drank in the sight of him. His curls were brushing against his cheek; his shoulders were pressed back against his chest.
As he continued to use Logan’s hand as a hole to fuck, Logan growled in his ear, “Your body was made to be against mine.”
Tate panted. “Love how you feel behind me.”
Logan released the hold he had on him and placed his hands on either side of Tate’s waist. He then ghosted them over his hips as Tate reached down to continue pleasuring himself.
“That makes me real happy to hear, Tate, ’cause you’re about to feel a whole lot more of me behind you.”
Logan began to rub himself over Tate’s crack, and then he zeroed in on the image in front of them. He dipped his knees slightly, and when he saw the plump, wet head of his dick come into view between Tate’s thighs, Logan gnashed his teeth together to hold back the roar he felt building. Oh fuck, that’s hot, he thought as he repeated the sweet glide and felt Tate’s balls against the top of his cock.