Try (Temptation Series)

by Ella Frank

  Concentrating on the sensitive glans, he heard Tate mutter a soft, “Fuck,” before Logan took him all the way to the back of his throat. With a slight grunt and cough, Logan slid his lips back up and waited for Tate to move. It didn’t take long.

  Confident hands took Logan’s head and started to direct his mouth at the speed and pace Tate wanted. Methodically, he thrust between Logan’s lips, cursing and groaning with every gratifying entry and exit his cock made from Logan’s mouth, and when Logan moved a hand to cup Tate’s balls, he seemed to lose all finesse.

  “Logan,” he warned grimly.

  Logan’s fingers cradled and massaged the sensitive sac tucked up between Tate’s legs. Logan knew what was coming, and he wanted it. He craved every last drop of cum to hit his tongue and slide down his throat. Only then, would he know exactly what Tate Morrison tasted like.

  Holding Tate’s leg with one hand, he gently squeezed the balls he was palming in the other, and he fastened his mouth around the intrusion shoving relentlessly down his throat. Logan closed his eyes as Tate pushed into his mouth for the final time, and then Tate let out the most satisfying shout Logan had ever heard as he came in a hot, sticky torrent down his throat.

  * * *

  Jesus H. Christ.

  Tate was slumped back against the couch, trying to catch his breath, and staring at Logan, who was still kneeling between his legs. He couldn’t even think right now as Logan’s mouth left his sensitive flesh, and he sat back on his heels.

  Logan’s sexy—not to mention, talented—mouth was now swollen from having been wrapped around him for the past several minutes.

  Or was it more? It’d seemed like a fucking eternity to him.

  As Logan licked his lips like he’d just eaten the best meal in the world, it occurred to Tate that he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever swallowed. Diana had hated it, but Logan had refused to move away. In actuality, he’d sucked harder and faster until the end where he’d seemingly taken immense pleasure from swallowing everything Tate had given him.

  “Um…” Tate reached a hand up to scrub it over his face.

  That was when a low laugh hit his ears. Dropping his hand down, he quirked a brow at Logan, who was still on his knees, laughing.

  “What?” Tate demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  That got him curious. As he looked down, he noticed that he needed to cover himself, and he found it interesting that it hadn’t even occurred to him. He just wanted to know what was so damn funny.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You just look like I sucked your brains out through your cock.”

  Tate couldn’t disagree with that assessment one little bit. “You might have.”

  The look Logan gave him was satisfied and smug, and at that moment, Tate realized that he hadn’t done anything for the guy in the last portion of the initiate Tate program. He hadn’t kissed him, touched him, or sucked him. He’d just sat on the couch and selfishly gotten a brain-destroying blow job.

  Well, the guy did offer.

  “Ah…sorry, I…you know, came before you—”

  You lame ass. Tate groaned, lifting his hips to pull his boxers and jeans up. Just as he had them back in place and covering his groin, he felt a hand on his and saw that Logan was touching him and giving him a look full of irony.

  “You didn’t,” he said.

  Tate didn’t understand at first until Logan looked down at himself and shrugged.

  “I came in my pants, like a fucking high schooler.”

  Tate couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the self-disgust he’d heard in Logan’s tone.

  “Oh. Well, at least those were just your track pants.”

  Logan’s brow rose. “I’ll have you know that these are Armani track pants.”

  More at ease now, Tate sat forward until he was only an inch from Logan, and reached out to cup his face. Bringing Logan the rest of the way forward with a slight pull of his hands, Tate pressed their lips together and marveled at the rough texture of Logan’s cheeks.

  “Huh,” Tate mused out loud, still running his palms over the coarse hair on Logan’s face.

  When he pulled away, Logan frowned, and Tate wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t have done that.

  Then, Logan’s mouth morphed into a smile. “So, what do you want to try next?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I think we should have that talk now, don’t you?”

  Letting his head fall back, Logan groaned. “If you insist. I, personally, think we should do something different altogether.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Tate told him.

  Logan looked at the man who’d completely surprised him in the last half hour and raised a questioning brow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.”

  “Yeah, uh…that’s probably not a bad idea. Is there somewhere I could go to have a smoke first?”

  Moving to his feet, Logan winced at the sticky condition in his pants. High schooler was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come while still wearing his pants, but damn, Tate finally giving in and letting him suck on him had done it.

  “You smoke?” Logan asked. “Ah, that’s what it is.” He thought about the faint taste of tobacco under the overpowering cinnamon as he made his way to the dark drapes behind the single recliner. “That’s a nasty habit, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tate stood and pushed his hand into his back pocket, presumably to get out his pack of cigarettes. “I only smoke when I drink.”

  As Logan pulled the curtain back, revealing the door to his balcony, he looked over to where Tate had moved around the couch. “But you’re not drinking.”

  When Tate got to him, he brought the white pack up and tapped it against his palm before opening the flap. Bringing it to his mouth, he pulled out one of the white cylinders between his lips.

  “No, I’m not,” he mumbled around the tip in his mouth. “But I just came from a guy giving me a blow job, so my nerves are shot to shit.” Fishing a blue lighter out of his jeans pocket, Tate gave him a wiry smirk. “Don’t judge me.”

  Logan chuckled, holding up his palms. “I’m not. And for the record, this guy enjoyed giving you head. So, if you want to get used to it, just ask.”

  Tate’s eyes moved to his mouth, and Logan knew he was remembering exactly how it had felt to have his cock sucked by him.

  Unlocking the door, Logan pushed it open and felt the cool night air hit him as Tate made his way outside.

  “I’m going to go and have that shower,” he said as he watched Tate lean against the railing, lighting his cigarette. “Unless, of course, you want me to wait, so you can join me?”

  Logan paused as Tate looked back at him. The wind ruffled the loose hair around his face as he took a drag of the cigarette and then blew out the smoke.

  What a turn-on, Logan thought.

  Watching Tate smoke might have just become a new fascination of his. The man looked striking, standing there with the city lights as his backdrop, and the smoke sensually curling away from him.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for…all of that just yet.”

  As Logan raised one of his arms up and stretched it above his head against the doorjamb, he felt immense satisfaction from the way Tate’s eyes skidded down over his naked chest and abdomen.

  “You sure about that?” Logan reached his free hand across his body to rub his shoulder.

  Still looking back at him, Tate watched him like a dog eyeing a bone. It was obvious he liked what he was looking at, but at the same time, he still seemed to be holding back.

  When it was clear that Tate wasn’t going to answer, Logan tried his name. “Tate?”

  “Huh?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips.

  “You sure you don’t want me to wait?”

  As Tate took another long drag, he turned around completely, leaning back against the rail, as he unapologetically checked him out.

  “You’re real
ly good-looking. It pisses me off.”

  Logan brought his arm down and leaned against the door. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you, minus the pissed-off part. Why does it annoy you?”

  Shaking his head, almost as though he didn’t believe his own thoughts, Tate admitted, “Because you make me want to do things that I shouldn’t.”

  Logan wanted to know every little thing Tate was thinking, but he also knew he desperately needed a shower. So, he walked forward to Tate, reached out, and took the cigarette from him. Bringing it to his own lips, he took a drag, and as he gave it back, he blew the smoke out just past Tate’s face.

  “Sorry, I just really wanted to suck on what you were sucking. I’m going to go and take a shower. If you want one, the second bedroom has an en suite. Then, Tate?”

  Tate was staring at him with unflinching focus, holding the cigarette down by his leg, forgotten.

  “I want to know all the things you want to do but shouldn’t.”

  Tate’s tongue came out to moisten his lips.

  Logan couldn’t help himself as he added, “So, we can start crossing them off the list.”

  With that parting comment and Tate’s long exhale, Logan turned and made his way back into his condo.

  * * *

  As Logan disappeared inside, Tate turned back to face the lights of downtown Chicago, and he had to wonder for the millionth time, What am I doing here with him? But the answer was pretty obvious now—

  Isn’t it? Just say it. Just admit it out loud, and then maybe it will get easier.

  “I’m sexually attracted to Logan Mitchell—a man,” he muttered into the quiet night.

  Nope, that didn’t help.

  He couldn’t seem to turn off his brain, and all Tate kept thinking about was what everyone in his life would think if they knew what had just happened here. Even more perplexing was the fact that he knew the shitstorm it would stir, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing it all again.

  Finishing his cigarette, Tate crouched down, pressed the butt to the concrete, and made his way inside to look for the garbage. As he stepped back into the living room, he looked at the couch where he and Logan had been earlier. Automatically, Tate was hit with a vision of everything that had taken place, and he realized that he wanted to go and find Logan.

  Moving to the kitchen, he placed the butt in the sink, not wanting to snoop, and then he walked through the living room and down the hall to where he could hear the shower running.

  Stopping outside the door, Tate thought about exactly what he wanted to happen here. He knew that going down this rabbit hole would turn his life completely upside down. Yet, even as he thought it, his feet were carrying him closer to the partially shut door.

  Pushing it open, he stepped into the bedroom and took a moment to look around. It was full of dark mahogany wood and cream walls. Tate didn’t allow himself long to linger, knowing that if he did, he’d more than likely leave. So, instead, he made his way toward the open door where Logan’s track pants were on the floor.

  Closing his eyes for a second, Tate told himself, I can do this. Hell, I want to do this, and moved farther into the humid bathroom. The shower was on the left side of the tiled room, and up against the right was a double vanity. He could hear the steady stream of water as he rested his ass up against the edge of the first sink, and he waited.

  The glass door was shut and covered with steam, only allowing him a partial view of the man inside. As Tate leaned on the sink, he imagined what would happen when the door was pulled open, and his cock stiffened to full mast.

  And that’s what it really comes down to, he thought. My cock wants Logan. I want Logan. Hell, standing here in the same bathroom, thinking about him naked, turns me on more than anything or anyone else.

  Just as that thought slammed home with the force of a Mack truck, the water shut off, and the glass door slid open.

  * * *

  Logan had resisted the urge to spend too long under the warm spray, instead wanting to get out and find Tate—or more importantly, make sure that Tate hadn’t left. Lathering up all the important areas, he then rinsed off and pulled the door back, ready to go and hunt down the other man.

  That wasn’t necessary though. Tate was standing in the bathroom, up against the vanity, with his arms and legs crossed, staring directly at him.

  “Hello,” Logan stated calmly, not wanting to spook Tate, as he ran a hand through his hair.

  Tate shifted his hips against the counter, lowering his eyes to zoom in on—

  Yep, my now swelling cock.

  “Hi.”

  Not possessing one shy bone in his body, including the one standing tall and erect, Logan stepped out of the shower and walked steadily toward the man who was frozen against his sink. When he was close enough that he was dripping water onto Tate’s jeans, Logan stopped and waited for Tate to look at him.

  Slowly, Tate raised his head, and the heated connection they shared, was what had Tate shifting off the vanity. Logan was sure it happened much sooner than it seemed but as Tate’s fully clothed body brushed up against his naked thighs, and—fuck yes—his cock, Logan bit back a curse.

  Deciding he needed to speak or he’d end up humping Tate’s leg, Logan stated, “I thought you wanted to take a shower.”

  “I decided I wanted something else.”

  Hell, how does this guy always shake my steady footing?

  “And what would that be?” Logan asked.

  He watched Tate reach out a seriously shaky hand to trace a line down the center of his chest. The rough finger moved between Logan’s pecs and down to his navel where it stopped and flirted with the damp hair just beneath.

  “I want to touch you.”

  Logan had been all ready to talk around five minutes ago when he’d been in the shower calming himself down. But now? Now, he was ready to go again, and Tate was driving him out of his mind.

  Clenching his jaw, Logan stepped forward, muscling Tate back to the sink, and then kept advancing. Tate’s ass hit the edge, and Logan moved slightly, so he had one foot between Tate’s spread ones, and one on the outside of his right thigh. Pressing his naked cock against the rough denim, Logan groaned as he clasped Tate’s arm for support.

  Tate shocked the hell out of him by wrapping his arms around his waist and clutching Logan’s bare ass as he hauled him in closer.

  Tipping his head back, Logan ground his hips down on Tate’s strong thigh as he growled out, “Jes-us.”

  “Fuck,” Tate sighed.

  Logan brought his head back up to look Tate in the eye. Parting his mouth, Logan licked his lip and continued to rub himself off on Tate’s leg.

  “You still wanna talk?” Logan somehow asked through his lust.

  He could feel Tate’s hot breath against his cheek while moving his mouth to Tate’s ear where he bit down gently. “If you want to talk, talk, or I am going to unzip your jeans and rub my cock against that fucking hard-on. And trust me, there will be no talking after that.”

  Tate reluctantly released his hold, and Logan slowly took a step back.

  “Talk or get undressed, but pick something in the next two seconds, so I don’t lose my goddamn mind.”

  * * *

  Tate definitely wanted to talk, but as soon as Logan was in front of him, completely naked, wet and erect, his brain had shut down, and his body had taken over.

  The man was ripped. From his solid arms to his muscular chest, which had a fine dusting of dark hair, and then his abs and that treasure trail leading down to…

  Jesus, how am I supposed to talk? Tate barely had blood left in his brain to remind himself to breathe.

  “Can you maybe put some clothes on?”

  “No. Next question?”

  Tate frowned. “It would help if you put something on.”

  “Why? You seemed comfortable enough a moment ago, and if you weren’t, you should have waited for me to get dressed.” Logan reached out, snagged a towel, and dried hims
elf. When he got to his hair, he rubbed it a couple of times before throwing the towel on the floor.

  “That’s hardly the problem,” Tate muttered.

  Logan moved toward the door leading to the bedroom, and Tate found himself looking at the firm, round ass he had been kneading just minutes ago.

  “I didn’t think so. Well, come on then. Let’s get the talking over and done with, so we can move on to the fun part. You know, the part where my cock gets to meet yours?”

  As Logan exited the room, Tate shook his head incredulously. The guy really did walk to the beat of his own drum. Stepping away from the sink where his ass had taken up residence, Tate made his way into the bedroom to see Logan lying casually on the mattress with his arms behind his head. He had a sheet draped across his waist, and somehow, Tate was positive that Logan had not put on any clothes.

  “How does this work?” Tate finally voiced the number-one question that had been bugging him.

  “Well…” Logan removed one of his hands to lay it down beside him on the bed.

  Tate’s eyes were drawn to where Logan’s hand had landed, right beside the discernable tent that had formed under the sheet.

  “That depends on what exactly you’re referring to. The first thing that needs to happen is for you to take off your clothes.”

  Tate walked over toward the foot of the bed. “Yeah, that much I know, thanks. I’m unsure of the details, smart-ass. You know, like who…” Yeah, saying this is much harder than thinking it.

  “Like, who fucks who?”

  Apparently, it wasn’t an issue for Logan.

  “Jesus, do you have to be so—”

  “So, what? To the point? Come on, Tate, that’s the thing you’re most worried about, right?” Logan raised a brow. “I’ll make it really simple. I can’t wait for you to fuck me. Does that clear things up for you?”

  It sure as hell does. But somehow, Tate didn’t think that was all there was to it, and he was right.

  Logan moved his hand to where the sheet was covering him and started to stroke himself. “For now.”

  Tate couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he just stood there with his lips pulled tight.

  “Take off your clothes, Tate.”