Chapter Eleven
EVERY SINGLE TIME, Tate thought, as he tightened his hold on Logan’s hips. He destroys any control I have. Every. Single. Time. Logan was just that sexy.
As Tate parted his lips and Logan slid his tongue inside, the tangy taste of his own cum had him moaning. Logan was gloriously naked as he sat astride him, and there was something about having him totally uninhibited and out of his usually polished getup that was always such a turn-on. He was rolling his hips in a rhythm that was utterly mind-blowing, and that was one of the main reasons Tate loved taking him like this. The man had hips that could move in the most sinful way, and there was nothing more erotic than when he did it while Tate’s cock was buried inside him.
Tate brought one of his hands down between them to wrap it around both their erections, and Logan was right about the mess they were making, but it wasn’t only him. Logan’s cock was leaving a sticky trail all over the damn place with every punch of his hips, and as Tate stroked them both, Logan flattened his hands on his chest and tweaked his nipples.
“Fucking ouch, Logan.”
Logan laughed a raspy, sensual laugh and twisted his fingers again, and the bite of pain had Tate clenching his fist around their cocks.
“Oh… Look at that. I think you like that little bit of ouch. Get your fingers in me, Tate.” Logan panted as he stared down at him, and Tate blindly reached for the lube.
Once he’d poured some into his hand, he wrapped his arm around Logan’s waist and slipped his middle finger down between his ass cheeks. Logan pushed back against the probing digit, and when the tip breached his tight hole, he gripped Tate’s shoulders and said, “Deeper.”
Tate took Logan’s lips in a demanding kiss as his finger slid all the way inside and he used his other hand to spread Logan wide.
“Yes,” Logan said as he ground down over him. “More. Give me more.”
Two fingers pushed inside then, and as Logan took them, Tate widened and stretched him, the snug fit of his body a raw, hot promise of what was to come.
Logan kissed the hell out of him as he writhed over his lap, and their cocks made the stickiest mess Tate had seen and felt on either of them in a long time. It was as though they hadn’t had sex in months, years, decades…not days. But Logan felt unbelievable in his lap, and judging by the rapt expression on his face, Logan agreed.
“Yes… So good…” Logan said against his mouth, as he ran his hands up the back of his neck and pulled on the strands of hair so he could lick a path up Tate’s Adam’s apple. “God, Tate. Get in me.”
The demand was followed by Logan kissing his way down his neck as he shoved his shirt as far out of the way as he could manage. Tate slowly removed his fingers and grabbed the lube, coating his palm so he could reach between them and slick up his cock while Logan continued to suck and kiss the base of his throat until a biting sting hit and Tate knew that Logan had just left a goddamn bruise.
As Logan tongued the spot he’d just marked, the sound he made was somewhere in the middle of a growl and a snarl, and so fucking possessive that Tate’s climax raced to his balls and took a tight hold of them.
He’d wanted Logan like this tonight. Wild. Untamed. And thinking only about how to get that next release. It was hot. It was arousing. And when Logan raised his head and aimed a savage smile his way… Yeah, he almost made me come.
“So,” Logan said, as Tate smoothed his hands down his sides to the small of his back. He dipped his fingers between Logan’s ass cheeks, and when Logan bucked forward, Tate let free his own grin. “How do you plan to use me first?”
Tate spread Logan apart and urged him up on his knees, then he took hold of his cock and aimed his eyes up at the devilish blue ones looking down at him. “Sit.”
With his hands braced on Tate’s shoulders, Logan slowly lowered himself until—fuck me—he settled down over the top of him. Tate reveled in the sensation of Logan’s ass swallowing him to the root, and once he was fully seated, he said, “You’re going to ride me.”
TATE’S STARE WAS direct and full of arrogance, and it made Logan’s entire body feel alive. Tate looked like he wanted to pound him into next week, and if the sharp punch of his hips was any indication, Logan was right.
Sprawled back on their couch like some kind of corrupt king, Tate’s eyes were stormy, his mouth pure sin, and his shirt was shoved off his torso as Logan sat naked astride his pulsating cock.
“I am, am I?” Logan said, and his voice was so hoarse it sounded as though it was being scraped over sandpaper. Tate lowered his eyes over everything on display for him, and then shifted his hips a little as Logan took one of his hands from Tate’s shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his hair.
“Yes,” Tate said, and Logan noted the tic in his cheek, as though he were trying to hold himself back.
“How do you want it?” Logan said as he slowly rolled his hips.
Tate’s fingers dug into Logan’s waist, and his lips pulled tight as he tried to keep a handle on himself.
“You want it nice and slow?” Logan asked, and then leaned forward and said against Tate’s mouth, “Or do you want it hard and fast?”
Tate’s eyes narrowed and he sat up slightly, causing his erection to bump against Logan’s prostate.
“Fuck,” Logan said, and Tate let out a low chuckle.
“I don’t care how you do it. I just want to watch you drive yourself crazy on my dick.”
Logan put both palms on Tate’s hairless chest and shoved him back into the couch—done sitting idle. “That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
“Mhmm,” Tate agreed as his hands plumped Logan’s ass, rocking him gently. “But you get extra defiant when you’re told what to do, so I was just priming you.”
“You fucking tease.”
“Call me what you want. But for God’s sake—” Tate never finished his thought, though, because Logan moved his hips over the top of his, causing him to drop his head back to the couch and moan.
“Oh fuck yes. Like that, Logan,” Tate said, and then Logan fisted his hair and yanked him forward so he could take his mouth in a blistering kiss.
He could feel Tate’s fingers slipping between his ass cheeks as he guided him up and down, and Logan reveled in the way Tate controlled his movements but left the pace and everything else up to him.
So he wants to watch, does he? Logan thought, as he placed both of his hands behind himself, bracing them on Tate’s knees. And the view he offered Tate then was as explicit as it was sensual. Then I’ll give him a show.
His body was bowed back, his neck arched, and as he rode the steely length inside him, Logan couldn’t get enough of it. Tate’s hands were traveling all over his hips and thighs, and then finally he started to stroke him as he moved on top of him, and the act, position, and feelings flooding Logan were so fucking intense that he had to shut his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t come.
“Logan… Christ, you’re sexy,” Tate said, causing Logan to open his eyes and focus on the man he was losing his mind over.
When their stares collided, there was no way Logan could stay where he was. He needed to get closer to all of that. Shifting on the thighs he was balanced on, Logan leaned forward and placed his hands on the back of the couch on either side of Tate, and once he had a firm grip, he really started to move.
His ass surrounded the hard length inside it like a glove every time he rose and then settled back down. It felt unreal, and when Tate sank his teeth into his shoulder, Logan reached down with his hand and clamped a fist around his cock.
“Yes,” Tate growled against his neck. “Goddamn. So fucking hot, Logan. Do it. Let me watch you.”
Logan frantically worked himself as his hips and ass moved over and around Tate. He lowered his forehead to Tate’s as his breathing came in rough pants, but it wasn’t until Tate said, “Come on me,” that Logan lost it.
Tate jammed his hips up, once, twice, and Logan’s orgasm hit him with the impact of a train. It sl
ammed into him and he grabbed Tate’s shoulder as he came all over his own hand and Tate’s stomach, his ass clenching around the rigid length still lodged deep.
Before he could think about that, though, Tate was on the move. With a hand on his ass and back, he had Logan laid out flat on the couch and was over and in him with no time to spare. Several curls flopped forward on Tate’s sweaty forehead as he began to tunnel into him, and Logan wrapped his legs around Tate’s naked ass and held on.
This wasn’t going to take long at all, and, feeling the devil on his shoulder, Logan swiped his fingers over the mess on Tate’s stomach and then brought his fingers to Tate’s mouth, and yeah…that dirty fucker sucked them inside. Tate’s eyes darkened as Logan licked his lips, and then he threw his head back and shouted as he came hard, calling out Logan’s name.
Logan loved when the two of them were together like this. Rough, hard, and raw. It was passionate and sensual all at once. And with Tate, it was everything.
Several minutes later, when he could actually find the energy to speak, he ran a hand over Tate’s hair and said, “I think it’s safe to say we were both well used tonight. Don’t you think?”
Tate raised his head and grinned, and Logan couldn’t help but reciprocate.
“I think so,” Tate said. “I think it’s also safe to say I am now very, very happy.”
Logan laughed at the reminder of that earlier conversation, and kissed him. “You are, aren’t you?”
“Happy?”
“Yes.”
“More than I ever thought possible.”
Logan ran a finger over the mark he’d left on Tate’s neck and sighed. “Good. You’d tell me if you ever weren’t, wouldn’t you?”
Tate narrowed his eyes on him. “Of course. You’d tell me too, right? If you weren’t happy.”
“Yes,” Logan said, and then traced Tate’s lips with the tip of his finger. “But Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s physically impossible for me to be around you and not be happy.” When Tate chuckled and fingered his chest hair, Logan asked, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m just always amazed that after your mouth has been so unbelievably dirty it can then say the sweetest things.”
Logan angled his head to press a kiss to Tate’s lips. “I could say the same thing for you. But since we’re both so dirty, why don’t we go and have a shower before we head to bed?”
Tate climbed off him and held a hand out. “Well, now that I know you’re only happy when I’m around, I guess I’m just going to have to go everywhere you go.”
Logan took his hand and led him through to their bedroom, saying over his shoulder, “You won’t hear any complaints from me on that. But this time around it would make me extra happy if you lost the shirt.”
As they stepped into the bathroom and Tate’s shirt hit the floor, Logan wasn’t sure he could think of anything right then that could possibly make the grin on his face any bigger.
Chapter Twelve
“YOUR NINE O’CLOCK is here,” Sherry said as Logan looked up from his computer the following morning. He’d been in a particularly happy mood when he arrived, and was just catching up on the last-minute notes Sherry had sent him regarding Robbie’s cousin.
“Ahh yes, good. All three of them?”
Sherry nodded and glanced at her notepad before smiling. “Yes. I have a Mr. Bianchi, Miss Bianchi, and Mrs. Bianchi.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Sherry.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll send them in and hold your calls. Cole also said to remind you that Mr. Priestley will be here at eleven.”
“Got it,” Logan said as he stood and buttoned his grey pinstripe jacket. “Sherry?”
Sherry paused with her hand on the doorframe and looked over at him. “Yes, Logan?”
Then, quite unexpectedly, he heard himself asking her, “Are you happy here?”
Her eyes widened behind her glasses and then her lips curved. “Well, you’re a pretty horrible boss—”
“Sherry,” Logan said, coming around his desk and walking over to her, “I’m serious.”
She laughed and laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Yes. I’m very happy here. You’re a terrific boss, and you and your brother are wonderful owners. Hard taskmasters, but fair and honest. I love working at Mitchell & Madison. Why?”
Logan patted her hand with his and thought, Because I’m going to give you a beautiful office and a raise in the foreseeable future. That’s why. “No reason. Just an employee spot check.”
She smiled and then turned on her heels to head back to her desk, and Logan pushed open his door to see Robbie heading down the hall with a young lady trailing behind him, and behind her was an older woman who Logan presumed was their nonna.
When Robbie reached him, Logan noted the all-black shoes, slacks, and shirt getup, but was unreasonably pleased to see a bright yellow tie today. That hint of flair, that was the old Robbie, and it gave Logan hope that he was still in there under the Robert who was apparently mourning his brighter, unique half.
“Mr. Bianchi, it’s good to see you again,” Logan said, holding his hand out, and there was no hesitation this morning as Robbie shook it. Logan did note, however, that Robbie only briefly met his eyes before glancing over his shoulder.
“You too,” he said. “This is Vanessa, my cousin, and my nonna.”
Logan looked past Robbie to where the women stood side by side. Vanessa was a petite woman with nondescript brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and had a grim expression on her face, whereas Nonna was sporting a no-nonsense one, and her hair was styled in a bob, black with hints of silver through it.
“Hello. I’m Logan Mitchell, one of the partners here at Mitchell & Madison. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’m guessing you’d rather be anywhere else, am I right?”
When Vanessa gave him a tight smile, Logan stepped back and pushed his door open. “Why don’t you come into my office and we can have a chat about what’s going on and what options you have, Vanessa.”
She nodded, and as they walked by, Logan watched them go until Robbie went to enter and Logan reached out to touch his arm. There was no way he was going to head in there without checking in on Robbie first. And there was also no way he was letting him leave today without finding out why he was acting the way he was acting.
Tate had suggested Logan use the biggest weapon in his arsenal to draw Robbie out—himself. He’d never been able to pass up an opportunity to flirt shamelessly. Robbie’s incorrigible nature had always made him such a handful. But that was back then; the man who’d just stopped and looked at Logan still had the dark circles under his eyes and a frown twisting his mouth in place of what had once been a cheeky grin.
“Sorry I didn’t come to the bar last week,” Robbie quickly said, as though he were about to be yelled at. “I was just tired, and…” He looked away, and Logan wanted to shake him and demand to know what the hell was going on. “And I just fell asleep instead.”
“That’s okay,” Logan said. “You don’t owe me anything. And it was probably better you weren’t there anyway.”
Robbie flinched at that, and Logan realized what he’d said and how it must’ve sounded. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. It’s just I got into a bit of a fight on Friday night.” Robbie’s eyes widened, and when Logan caught his lips twitch, he decided to just keep right on talking. “Yep. Punched someone right in the face, I did.”
And that did it. Robbie’s lips pulled into a grin and he laughed. “You punched someone?”
“Shhh,” Logan said, looking across the office to where Robbie’s nonna sat with his cousin. “I don’t want them to think I’m a thug.”
Robbie scoffed. “Fat chance of that ever happening. You look like a—”
When he cut himself off, Logan smirked. Oh yeah…there he is. Then he tapped a finger to Robbie’s yellow tie. “We’re going to finish this conversation. But it’s nice to see you again, R
obbie.”
“It’s—” Robbie stopped in his correction when Logan pinned him with a challenging look and said, “It’s Robbie. Now come and sit down, and when we’re done you and I are going to have a little talk. Got it?”
The stunned look that flashed across Robbie’s face was followed by him taking in a shaky breath. Then he brought a hand up to his chest as he let it out and said, “Okay, that was super hot.”
Logan schooled his expression to serious and glanced over at the two waiting for them. “You better get over there. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
The keen way Robbie nodded told Logan exactly what he needed to know. His tone had done what he’d intended it to, and hopefully after he was done helping the Bianchis as a whole, he could go ahead and help the one Bianchi he feared didn’t even realize he needed helping.
TATE CLICKED OPEN the seventh response to his ad the following morning, and read over the person’s name, past experience, and references, and then clicked it shut with a sigh.
Who am I kidding? It was going to be impossible to replace Amelia. He’d known that as soon as she’d told him she was handing in her resignation. Sitting back in the corner booth, he stared at the four other applications waiting for him and knew he had to call at least a handful and check them out. The problem was that no one was going to work with him as well as Amelia did. He’d known her ever since their days at After Hours. She knew Logan. She knew them. And the idea of not only having to train someone but also tread around social niceties, as he tried to ascertain if someone had an issue with his lifestyle choices, was enough to give him a fucking headache.
Really, it shouldn’t even be an issue. But if Friday night, and the fight, had been good for anything, it was as a wake-up call that there were still a bunch of bigoted assholes out there that had no problem spewing their garbage to whoever would listen, and there was no way he would put up with anyone feeling uncomfortable in his place of business. No matter who they were.