“Logan,” he cried out when Logan swallowed him back down his throat. He kept his eyes glued to the man who was bent over him, making a meal out of him.

“You taste so fucking good,” Logan told him as he lifted his head and caught his stare. His eyes were so dark that Tate thought they were close to black, and Logan bit his swollen lip like he was trying to taste him again. “You love watching me suck your dick, don’t you, Tate?”

Tate thrust his hips up, and Logan ran his eyes over him in the reflection. Then his fingers were moving, trailing down to—

“What about this?” Logan asked, their eyes still locked as he slowly pushed his finger inside him. “You like watching me do this?”

As Logan turned his attention back to the feast splayed out in front of him, he eagerly watched his finger disappear inside Tate, who looked as if he were about to pass out from what he was experiencing.

The sounds he was pulling from him were making Tate’s voice hoarse, and they had him pressing his own cock against the side of the bed, needing to ease the ache in some way, as the man lying before him splintered apart under his hands and his mouth.

He tongued the strip of skin just above where his finger was penetrating, and as Tate shoved his hips up toward him for more, Logan trailed his tongue down and delivered. He removed his finger and licked over the tight pucker he was two seconds away from fucking, and when Tate’s heel dug into his shoulder and his second leg came up to plant itself on the mattress, Logan knew he was close to losing it. He slipped his hands under Tate’s ass and pulled him up to taste every part of him he could reach. When he slid two fingers inside him, a loud curse flooded his ears.

Pushed way beyond the limits of his control, Logan scissored his fingers apart a few times and then pulled them free of Tate’s body before he stood. Tate’s eyes had been fixated on the mirror until that moment, but he turned his head and locked gazes directly with him.

Logan grabbed the lube on the counter and poured some into his hand while Tate feverishly worked his palm up and down. He then walked back to the mattress, and when Tate scooted back, Logan placed a palm on his thigh.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Tate’s eyelids lowered to half-mast as he touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip and widened his legs in invitation. “Nowhere. Was just making room for you.”

Logan moved up his body so he could plant a hand by the side of Tate’s head and then lowered himself over him. He ran his slick palm over Tate’s cock before rubbing their erections together, and when Tate turned his head to the side to face the mirror, Logan did the same—and the picture they made was one he would never fucking forget.

Tate’s beautiful skin was such a rich contrast against the cream of the covers, and with their long legs entwined and their brawny frames connected, Logan couldn’t help but roll his hips at the erotic image he was seeing.

“Un-fucking-real,” he said, never having realized how perfect they were with one another.

“I know. I can’t stop looking,” Tate confessed. “More. I want to see more,” he said, sounding desperate as he moved his hips under Logan’s while they continued to eye-fuck one another. “I want to watch you take me.”

Logan’s entire body reacted to Tate’s words, but when Tate added, “I want to watch us fuck,” Logan thought he would explode.

He took his hand closest to the mirror and hooked Tate’s leg under the knee, pushing it back and opening him wide. He kept his eyes on Tate’s the entire time while he moved his hips up and the head of his bare cock brushed his hole.

“Feel me?” he asked, gently nudging against him.

Tate’s lips parted as his gaze lowered to where their hips were connected and he nodded. Logan pushed forward then, and once the head of his shaft had slipped inside the tight ring of muscle, he squeezed his eyes shut and rested his cheek against Tate’s.

His forearms were on either side of Tate’s head, and when he said, “Open your eyes,” Logan’s stare met with his in the reflective glass.

He watched Tate’s hands smooth down his back and cup his ass, and when he whispered, “Fuck me,” Logan saw Tate’s eyes dilate and his mouth part on a cry as he pulled out and did as requested.

He wasn’t sure when he’d passed the point of rational thought, but when Logan slid back inside him, Tate’s mind seemed to have lost the ability to focus on anything other than watching the man on top of him make him his.

Their bodies were so intimately fused together that it was hard to tell where Logan ended and where he began. But as Logan pulled his hips back and withdrew his delicious cock from his body, he watched like a voyeur at one of the filthiest sex shows.

His leg was hooked over Logan’s elbow, and as he tunneled inside him, the dimples and muscles on his ass, hip, and thigh flexed. Tate couldn’t help getting high off the visual he was witnessing.

If he weren’t being so superbly taken, he might have thought he’d blacked out and was dreaming this. But the forceful way Logan was thrusting inside him left no doubt that he was most certainly the man on the bottom of that hot-as-fuck image. He couldn’t even make out the words that were flying out of Logan’s mouth as he continued to watch himself get pounded into the mattress. And somewhere in those euphoric seconds, he lost himself in the feeling of surrender. He’d never known such trust, such devotion in another—and he knew he never would again.

Tearing his eyes from the mirror, he looked up at Logan, and when he found him looking down at him, he wrapped his legs around his waist to pull him closer.

Logan buried his face in his neck as his hips sped up and pistoned back and forth—his breathing coming in harsh pants. He sounded like a man about to fucking explode.

“Do it, Logan. I want to feel you come inside me. Make me yours,” Tate demanded.

He bit his ear, and that did it. Logan stiffened inside him and came on a shout so loud that it reverberated off the walls. Tate turned his head as the warmth of Logan’s release flooded through him, and the visual and mental snapshot of the entire act had his own orgasm right there, teetering on the edge.

Logan looked at him in the mirror and slowly pulled out. Then he reached down to take him in his hand. He held his eyes as he moved his fist up and down, and then he lowered his head to the crook of his shoulder and whispered, “You’re so sexy, Tate. Fucking beautiful. Come for me.”

Tate’s eyes closed, and as he remembered the way they’d looked only a second ago, his climax slammed into him and had him arching up to come in a sticky, hot mess all over his stomach and Logan’s hand.

He’d never felt so satisfied in all his life. His mind even felt foggy. And as Logan lowered down beside him and rolled to his back, Tate smiled up at the ceiling and let his eyes fall shut. Nothing that they hadn’t already said with their bodies needed to be spoken.

They had already given to each other everything.

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in New York City. The sun was shining, the air was crisp with the promise of winter, and Fifth Avenue was bustling with pedestrians. Hand in hand, they walked toward Central Park, and when they came to a stop on the corner of the street, Logan looked over at Tate. He was back in his usual jeans, shirt, and coat, and as the sun filtered through the buildings, it warmed them where they stood.

“Is there any place in particular you want to see once we get there?” Logan asked, waiting for Tate to look at him.