Элла Франк - Try

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I’m already hard, and I want to come.”

“Selfish,” Logan admonished gently. “If I remember correctly, you already came twice today. The least you could do is get on that death trap you call transportation, and come and return the favor.”

“Ah…” Tate sighed into the phone as he thrust up into his hand. “But then I’d have to stop what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed.

There was a whole lot of shuffling going on, and then he was back, promising, “But I’m dying for it, and if you come here, instead of your hand, you can fuck me.”

Tate gritted his teeth. “You play dirty.”

“Come over, and I’ll show you how dirty. You know you want to.”

Tate glanced at the DVR clock, and it now read 1:40.

Am I really going to—

Oh, what the hell?

Tucking himself back into his sweatpants, he winced as he sat up, and then he stood, looking around his apartment for his helmet and jacket.

“Logan?” He located them both and picked them up.

“Yeah?”

Tate snagged his keys off the counter and said into his cell, “Fifteen minutes. Be ready.”

With that, he ended the call and walked out his front door before slamming it behind him.

Tate was buzzed into Logan’s condo lobby the second he arrived, and now found himself stepping out of the elevator and onto Logan’s floor.

What a difference a week could make, Tate thought as he rapped his knuckles on the door. Has it really only been a few days since I was standing here the first time around? There was no question in his mind this time. He wanted to be there.

As he stood in the empty hall in his gray sweatpants, white T-shirt, and leather jacket, he reached down to adjust the erection that hadn’t completely subsided since he’d left his apartment.

Seconds later, Logan’s front door opened, and Tate decided that the ride over had been worth leaving his place at two in the morning. His fingers tightened around his helmet as he quickly took in the wet hair swept back from Logan’s face, the dark growth shadowing his jaw, and every single inch of skin on display—and there was a whole hell of a lot.

Logan must have just stepped out of the shower because the light covering of hair on his chest glistened as he stood with his hand up on the open door. Tate’s gaze trailed down the hair of Logan’s chest and across his rippling abs until it narrowed and then disappeared behind the bright white towel secured around his hips.

Bringing his eyes back up to the ones watching him, Tate stepped forward, causing Logan to back up and drop his hand from the door. Once he was inside the condo, Tate kicked the door shut with his foot, dropped his helmet onto the floor, and advanced as Logan started walking backward. Shrugging out of his jacket, Tate kept his eyes on the man in front of him, who had a grin on his face that made Tate want to kiss it right off. As they made it out of the foyer and into the living room, Tate dumped his jacket on the floor and kept advancing on Logan.

“What’s on your mind, Tate?”

Tate reached over his shoulder, gathered the material of his shirt in his fist, and drew it up his back and over his head before tossing it on the ground.

“Just wondering if it’s a habit of yours to answer the door dressed like that?”

Logan looked down at himself and then brought devious eyes back up to his. “Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Tate felt his own mouth morph into a suggestive smirk. Reaching down to the top of his sweatpants, he loosened the drawstring as he kept moving forward. “It doesn’t hide much, does it?”

Finally, Logan came to a standstill when he backed into the kitchen island. He placed his hands on the solid surface behind him, which caused his body to thrust forward, showing Tate exactly how exciting this particular game of cat and mouse was for him.

“Well, my aim wasn’t really to hide so much as to provoke.”

Tate reached out to finger the spot where Logan had secured the towel. As Logan stood rooted to the spot, Tate pulled the material out of its hold, and when the towel loosened, Logan sucked in a breath.

Bringing the material up between them, Tate looked at it and then focused back on Logan as he dropped it onto the kitchen floor. Taking the final step he needed for his body to be pressed flush against Logan’s naked one, he placed his palms on the counter and penned Logan in.

With chests and hips locked together, Tate replied, “Well, mission accomplished. I’m provoked. Now, turn around.”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly at the demand as Tate took a step back. Instead of moving right away, Logan stayed where he was, fully erect and completely naked. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at and drooling over the picture Tate made, dressed only in loose sweats hanging from his hips, as he stood, waiting on him.

“Turn around?” he questioned, knowing full well that had been the order, but enjoying the game just the same.

“Yes,” Tate confirmed in a voice that made Logan’s shaft pound just a little harder. “Turn around. I want to see you. All of you.”

Logan turned but couldn’t help himself from saying, “Yes, sir.”

As the final word left his mouth, Tate crowded in behind him and shoved him up against the counter, so it was digging into his waist. Logan glanced back over his shoulder as Tate’s hand came up and gripped his chin. Slowly, he moved his face in until their lips met.

 “Such a smart mouth,” Tate acknowledged as Logan’s lips parted, “and tongue,” he made sure to add, licking them as he ground his hips in against Logan’s backside, making him very aware of the erection he was packing.

“Everything I want, and everything I crave, is you. Now, face forward,” Tate instructed as he let go of Logan’s chin and ran his fingers down his spine to his tailbone.

“Spread your legs,” Tate whispered against the back of his head.

Moving only slightly, Logan hardly widened his stance at all, and he heard Tate laugh at the smart-ass move. He started to feel the thrill of victory at his small win until Tate put his foot between his and kicked them apart.

“Spread ’em, Logan, nice and wide. Stop acting like you don't want it when we both know that you do.”

This time, he couldn’t help the huff of air that came from him as Tate urged him down onto the cool, unforgiving surface of black marble with a firm palm between his shoulder blades.

Against his back, Logan could feel Tate’s warmth as he bent down with him, curling his front against him. Then, Tate smoothed his free hand over his bare ass and ghosted his fingers across the dark shadowed crease of his body.

Logan clenched his teeth against the pleasure that made his body quiver from the sure touch, as a shiver of pleasure made his entire body tremble. All the while he was thinking, I’m screwed. With this guy, I’m fucking screwed.

“Damn. What is it about you?” Tate wondered out loud as he straightened to run his palms up and down Logan’s sides, enjoying the feel of his skin under his hands.

Logan remained bent at the waist with his face against the counter and his legs spread wide.

“My sparkling personality?”

Tate brushed his fingers down Logan’s crack and smiled as the man’s entire body tensed.

“Nope, it’s not that.”

When Logan’s eyes met his, the best they could from his prone position, Tate’s fingers pushed between his cheeks to the heated pucker waiting for him.

“Although, it may be part of it,” Tate joked as he felt slick moisture on his fingertips and realized exactly how ready Logan was for him. “You’re already lubed up? You fucking deviant. Just begging for it,” Tate whispered as he grazed his fingertip against Logan’s hole, “aren’t you?”

“Yes, I fucking am,” Logan admitted readily around a curse.

“Just how badly do you want it, Logan?”

“Jesus, Tate, how bad do you think? Look at me. You think I do this for everyone?”

Tate had to agree, the man had a point. With a quick pinch to his ass, Tate grinned when Logan flinched.

 “Oh, I’m looking, trust me. Spread out, bent over your kitchen counter,” Tate relayed all that he could see. Then, he brought his lips down to Logan’s ear as his finger probed for entry and found it. “I think I like it—a lot. And so do you,” he confirmed as his finger thrust forward, causing Logan to move up onto his toes.

“Ah…” was the unintelligible sound that ripped out of Logan as Tate watched his toes curl against the tile while his body got used to the invasion.

Gradually pulling his finger free, Tate brought two fingertips back to Logan’s rim to play. “Did you have fun putting this on without me?”

Logan looked back at him once again. He tried to regain some control of the situation, but it was useless. Tate held it all, and Logan fucking knew it. So, instead Logan gave him a seductive once-over. “No need to feel bad, Tate. I thought about you the whole time.”

Pulling the edge of his sweats down, Tate freed his hard-on from its confines as he continued fingering Logan.

“Who said I felt bad? I want to know if you had fun?” Tate asked again, emphasizing his point by pushing the tips of his fingers back into Logan’s body.

There was a loud groan and then Logan replied, “Yes. Yes! Fuck yeah.”