Bishop Ridge

by Cate Ashwood

  LOGAN: You.

  JACKSON: LOL That almost crossed into bad pickup line territory

  LOGAN: But the question is, did it work?

  JACKSON: I’m pretty far away for a booty call

  LOGAN: Then maybe it’s time to get creative.

  There was a pause where no messages came through, and for a second, I thought he’d shut me down. But as my heart rate started to pick up, another message flashed onto the screen.

  JACKSON: You think I’d have phone sex with you while sitting in a crowded bar?

  LOGAN: Yep

  JACKSON: You might know me better than I thought

  LOGAN: Is this where I ask you what you’re wearing?

  JACKSON: I think this is where you tell me what you’re wearing…

  The heart rate that had picked up a second earlier now doubled. I stared at the phone screen, happy that Jackson had decided to play along.

  LOGAN: I haven’t bothered getting changed from work yet.

  JACKSON: Collared shirt?

  LOGAN: Untucked

  JACKSON: Tie?

  LOGAN: Loosened

  JACKSON: Why is that so fucking hot?

  LOGAN: It turns you on?

  JACKSON: Everything about you turns me on

  LOGAN: Oh yeah?

  JACKSON: I can’t seem to control myself when it comes to you. You’re in my head more than you should be

  That small admission had my heart beating faster. As fucked as it was, at least I wasn’t alone in this thing barreling out of control.

  LOGAN: You are too. I keep thinking about you fucking me in the shower

  JACKSON: God, that was good. You were soapy and slick and when you came your voice echoed off the walls.

  LOGAN: I almost passed out.

  JACKSON: The sounds you make when you come are so fucking sexy.

  I read the message three times, my body flushing hotter with each pass. I tipped back my glass of wine, downing most of it in one swallow.

  LOGAN: If you were only a little closer…

  JACKSON: …

  I knew he was waiting for me to dive into this. I’d never sexted before, and I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to go. But I was so turned on thinking about him sitting in a crowded bar, imagining me, that the self-consciousness faded until all that was left was the need to torture him.

  I was in the middle of typing out a response when my phone rang. I almost jumped out of the chair. I held my breath for a split second as I answered.

  “Hi.” His rich, deep voice floated over the line.

  “Hi,” I said back, sounding slightly out of breath and feeling suddenly awkward.

  “I want you to put the phone on speaker and set it next to you.”

  “What?” The request had caught me off guard, and for some reason, the thought of having his voice aloud next to me seemed almost more taboo.

  “You heard me. Put the phone on speaker,” he repeated. “You’re going to need both hands for what’s happening next.”

  I did as I was told, tapping the button, and a second later, his voice was filling my room.

  “It’s on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Tell me where you are.”

  “In my living room.”

  We hadn’t even really done anything yet, a couple of flirty texts, but I was already on edge and feeling like anything would set me off.

  “Where in your living room? On the couch? In the chair?”

  “The chair.”

  I thought I heard a hitch in his breath at that. “Undo your pants.”

  My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the fly, taking two attempts to slide the button through the hole.

  “Are you hard?” he asked, his voice hushed. I could hear noise in the background, knew he wasn’t alone, and for some reason, that made what we were doing so much hotter.

  “Throbbingly.”

  His low chuckle made my cock twitch. “Good. Now touch yourself. And I wanna hear how it feels. I wanna feel like I’m right there in that room with you, like it’s my hands on your body.”

  I lifted my hips, shoving my pants off and tossing them in the corner. As I sat, my cock bounced against my stomach once before I slipped my hand around it, fisting the length in a tight grip. I groaned.

  Jackson’s low rumble answered half a second later. “Fuck, yes, Logan, let me hear you.”

  This wasn’t going to last long. I didn’t know if I’d ever been as turned on as I was in that moment, Jackson’s voice caressing my skin as I slowly began to move my hand.

  “This would be… so much better… if you were here.”

  “How does it feel?” he breathed.

  “Good. Hard. Fuck, it’s good.”

  I’d barely gotten started, and I was already close.

  “Tighten your grip, slow your strokes.”

  I could hardly hear him, his voice was so hushed, but I did as I was told, the pressure in my balls building as each second passed.

  “Jackson,” I begged, though for what, I didn’t know.

  “Hang on.”

  “Hang on?” I might have whimpered. I was teetering on the edge, every muscle in my body taut with pent-up need. I listened, straining to hear what was happening on the other end of the line, every ounce of control I possessed at work to keep my hand still. I didn’t want to come without Jackson. I wanted his voice in my ear when I finally let go.

  I heard rustling and a loud click.

  “What’s going on?”

  Finally, there was silence.

  “It was driving me crazy trying to keep quiet out there. I locked myself in the bathroom. Now tell me what you’re doing.”

  “I have my hand on my dick, trying like hell to pretend it’s you. I want it to be you.” I was past the point of caring if what I said came off as clingy or needy or desperate. I was clingy and needy and desperate, and if I didn’t come soon, I was going to explode.

  “You have no idea how fast I’d be there if I could,” he replied. There was more rustling, and then the sound of Jackson’s breathing changed. “Keep your hand where it is, but I want you to move the other one—stick two fingers into your mouth.”

  I grunted as I started to stroke myself again.

  “Good, now suck. Suck them like you’d suck my cock.”

  I slicked up my fingers with spit, unable to do anything but groan and whimper as I swirled my tongue around them. I could hear Jackson panting in the distance, and it traveled straight to my cock.

  “They’re wet…” I knew what was coming next, but it didn’t make it any less filthy when the command came out of Jackson’s mouth.

  “I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers. Push them deep inside, fill yourself up. Pretend they’re my cock. I want you full and begging when you come.”

  I was practically already there. I had no idea how I was going to keep myself from shooting the second my fingertips touched my hole.

  Pulling my knees up, I angled my body and reached down, the pads of my fingers circling my entrance with so little pressure I could barely feel them.

  “Logan,” Jackson growled.

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me.”

  “God, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna blow before I even get inside.”

  “No, you’re not.” There was so much authority in his voice, that I couldn’t help but believe him. “Start slow. One finger.”

  With a sharp gasp, I pushed inside, impaling myself and making my eyes roll back with the sensation.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Now add another.”

  I pushed the second one inside, my breathing becoming ragged and raspy as I started to move them. In and out I pushed them, matching the rhythm of my other hand on my cock.

  “Jackson,” I gasped. “It’s too good. I’m not gonna last.”

  “Fuck, I wish I could see you. You’re so fucking pretty when you’re getting fucked.” His voice was as strained as mine was, and I could imagine him, hidden
away, his hand on his cock, jacking himself along with me, a hundred miles away. “Harder, Logan.”

  I increased the pressure, upped the pace, and just like that I was hurtling over the edge, come shooting across my stomach, my chest. I called out Jackson’s name as the orgasm pulled me under, nearly drowning me in a wave of bliss.

  The edges of my vision faded out as my hole clenched around my fingers, everything going tight for a second before I collapsed back into the chair. On the other end of the line I heard my name, then the rush of breath that was a dead giveaway that Jackson was coming just as hard as I was.

  I let the sound of his pleasure wash over me, and then we were quiet for several drawn-out beats.

  Jackson spoke first. “Oh God, I’m covered in come. Christ, Logan, you make me so fucking crazy with wanting you. How the hell do you do that?”

  I struggled to pull air into my lungs. “Believe me, I’m wondering the same thing about you.”

  “Tell me you’re back in Belcourt soon.”

  “Not for a couple of months. Me and the other docs rotate. Dr. Prescott’s up next, then Dr. Emerson, then it’ll be my turn again.”

  “What if there was a patient who was in urgent need of attention?”

  I let the teasing tone of his voice roll over me, but I didn’t want to make things too easy for him. “Then Prescott would see them when he gets there.”

  “What if the attention is the kind that only you can give?”

  “Well, I am obligated to do everything in my power to help my patient. I took an oath.”

  “An oath, huh? I like the sound of that.”

  “Are you telling me you want me to be there sooner?”

  I needed him to verify it, to confirm that was what he meant. The last thing I wanted was to show up at his place unannounced and uninvited.

  His response came almost instantly.

  “Are you telling me you need to be asked twice?”

  Jackson

  I woke up with Spence’s feet in my face and a mouth that tasted like I’d been licking them in my sleep. I groaned as I rolled over, my stomach lurching as I did.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this shitty after a night of drinking, but I should have stuck to beer. The shots of tequila Ollie had insisted on had been the nail in the coffin at the end of my night.

  Witt had been long passed out by the time we’d gotten to the champion-level drinking, and it was probably for the best. If he was hurling drunk after less than two Alaskan Iced Teas, I didn’t see how he could have survived Ollie’s parade of Cuervo.

  “Move.” I shoved Spence’s legs out of the way, and he grunted in protest.

  He grunted again as the mattress shifted and I stumbled to the bathroom.

  I might have felt like shit, but there wasn’t a word invented yet for how bad I looked. If I hadn’t been standing mostly upright, I could have been mistaken for a corpse.

  How the fuck much did we drink last night?

  I emptied my bladder, then crawled back into bed. If there was a chance for more sleep before I had to drive back to Belcourt, I was going to take it. I grabbed my phone to check the time—when did we have to be out of here by? Ten? Eleven?—and saw a missed message from Logan.

  I swiped the screen on.

  LOGAN: Two surgeries this morning, then I’ll be on my way.

  Oh, shit.

  The memory of sexting with him in the middle of Glacier Saloon filtered back through my sluggish brain, and I scrolled to the very beginning, reading over from the top of the conversation.

  Getting hard while in bed with Spence wasn’t something I ever thought would happen, but my brain went from hungover to horny in the time it took to get through the first few messages.

  Holy shit, Logan had a mouth on him when he wanted to.

  And then my eyes landed on the end of the conversation, the part where Logan said he’d be arriving in Belcourt later that afternoon. I couldn’t tell if I was excited, turned on, or nauseous, but I decided not to overthink things too hard.

  Partly because my head was killing me and thinking in this state wouldn’t do anyone any good, but mostly because there was no point. Logan was coming, and soon I would be too. There was nothing better than that.

  My headache still hadn’t eased by the time I walked through my front door. A long drive was made longer by a sudden snowstorm that popped up out of nowhere. I’d lived in Alaska long enough that snow on the road didn’t present trouble for me, but that didn’t mean the other assholes driving were any good at it. It was slow going all way back to Belcourt, and by the time we got there, I was bordering on migraine territory. I grabbed a couple of Tylenol from the cabinet and swallowed them dry before finding a spot on the sofa to veg out for an hour or two. Logan would be arriving soon, and I needed to summon whatever energy I could muster.

  I might be in rough shape, but I had nothing on Ollie.

  He was the only one who’d actually managed to pick someone up, but I’d have been surprised if he’d managed to get hard long enough to fuck her. Whisky-dick was a motherfucker.

  Witt had been another story entirely. I’d never met someone who reacted to alcohol the way he did. Sleepy at first, then after puking in the single bathroom stall, he perked up and got chatty. He reminded me of a girl I’d known back in Holbrook after drinking a few too many Smirnoff Ices. They both became way into oversharing, but if there’d been any doubt about Witt’s sexuality before, there was none now.

  The guy was a thousand percent into dudes.

  Luckily, I didn’t seem to be one of those dudes. The last thing I needed was to have to awkwardly shut someone down—I had enough trouble on my hands with the guy I couldn’t seem to get out of my head.

  A knock sounded through the house, and it wasn’t until that very second that I realized how much I was looking forward to this.

  Thoughts of Logan had been running through my mind on a near-constant loop since the last time I’d seen him. And now I was milliseconds away from getting my hands on him again.

  I pulled the door open Logan was there, his hair soaked, clinging to his forehead and Christ, he looked better than I remembered. Except for the black eye and the huge cut across his eyebrow.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, pulling him inside, my hands going to his face. I tilted his head, inspecting the injury. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

  In half a heartbeat, I’d gone from excited he was there, to the edge of homicidal, my brain filling in a range of possibilities of what could have happened and how I was going to make them fucking regret it. It should have terrified me how angry I’d suddenly become over this, but in the moment, all I could think about was that he’d been hurt.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me last night?”

  Logan laughed. “I was a little preoccupied last night with other things.” He slipped his fingers around my wrists but didn’t pull my hands away. “I’m fine. It was a hockey accident.” I swiped my thumb across his cheek, and he grinned at me. “It’s nothing.”

  We stayed like that for a beat, Logan’s eyes trained on me, mine sweeping over him looking for traces of other injuries. Satisfied when I found none, I dropped my hands lower, sliding them underneath the shoulders of his jacket and pushing it off onto the floor behind him. I was sure it was expensive, and probably should have been hung up somewhere, but lying in a crumpled pile on the floor was as good as it was going to get because he’d been in the house a minute and a half, which was too long to go without putting my hands all over him.

  What was it about a man in a collared shirt that hit me right in the gut?

  Maybe it was that I spent all my time around guys who were caked in mud and drenched in sweat, but Logan’s refined edges did things to me I couldn’t explain. I pulled him close to me, lining our bodies up, pressing my chest against his. He was warm and solid, and a slow smile spread across his face.

  “You got here quick.” I lowered my head, dragging kisses along the s
ide of his neck.

  Logan inhaled sharply, tilting his head to the side to give me better access. “I’m capable of all sorts of things when properly motivated.” The words came out breathy and low.

  “I’m glad you are. I’m just surprised you were able to drop everything and come out here.”

  “I’m not sure if you know this, since you’ve only been there once, but Sawyer’s Ferry isn’t exactly a hub of excitement. The most intense thing that happened this week was a guy whose catheter was blocked.”

  “I’m guessing that’s how you ended up with a handful of eighty-year-old dick?”

  “Technically one of the nurses ended up with a handful of it, but I got a good look at it.”

  “A good look, huh?”

  Logan chuckled. “Jealous?”

  “Not enough that I wanna see pictures or anything.” I slid my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and angled my hips forward.

  Logan groaned. “You’re pretty damn hard for someone who claims not to have a thing for elderly cock.”

  “It’s not his cock I’m thinking about.”

  He rocked back against me, and the ridge of his erection pressing against mine. I couldn’t wait to get him horizontal. It was all I’d been able to think about all week, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

  I kissed him hard, backing him up against the wall and pressed him against the solid surface. It was like an instant replay of the first time he’d been here, only this time I knew what was coming. I’d seen this movie, knew how it ended, and that just made me want it more.

  He tasted like mint again, but subtly this time. Soon, I wasn’t going to be able to brush my teeth without getting an erection. His hands went to my back, sliding up under my shirt.

  “Fuck,” I gasped, and Logan laughed. “Your hands are freezing.”

  “One of the hazards of living in Alaska. But I can think of a couple of ways to get warm.”

  I nuzzled against him, pulling his earlobe into my mouth and sucking gently. “There you go with those cheesy lines again.”

  He slid his hand down the front of my pants, his palm cupping my cock, adding just enough pressure to send a wave of pleasure through me. “They might be cheesy, but they seem to be working.”