Page 53

“Tell me something, these guys you imagine me with. Are they real people?”
“You mean, like, are they werewolves?”
Logan laughs. “Are they people we actually know?”
“No, they’re mostly faceless twinks.”
“Faceless twinks. So, like, ghost twinks?”
“Babe. Be serious.”
Logan clears his throat and tightens the half embrace he has me in until my head is sinking to his chest. “Okay. Serious, then. I think some of this is about the whole Sergeant Stud thing. I know my manwhore past can be challenging sometimes—”
“It’s not, babe. I promise. I—”
“I know. Just hold on a second. I’m saying, I think there might still be a part of you that worries I gave all those boys something I didn’t give you. And so you want to see it. In your mind’s eye, or whatever. So you can demystify it. Or feel like you were part of it. But trust me, Connor, the opposite is true. I mean, most of the time, I wouldn’t even kiss those tricks. It was just like scratching an itch or getting a burst of validation.
“But the other thing is this, and this is important. Fantasies are just fantasies, babe. A fantasy can never be wrong. Only actions can be wrong. And besides, I have plenty of fantasies about you and other guys. The other night when you had to work late, I got off to the thought of the entire security department running a train on you in your office.”
I lift my head from his chest in surprise. “Jesus, really? That’s intense.”
“Well, it’s not happening so you don’t need to worry about the intensity level, okay?” The protective edge in his voice thrills me.
I stroke his chest to calm him, but I’m relieved to hear his dirty thoughts about me when I’m not around run the same taboo gamut mine do, so relieved that I no longer care we’re both going to be hurting for sleep tomorrow.
Logan takes a deep breath. “What I’m saying here is, the story you told isn’t about fantasies. It’s about three men who all fell in love with each other. And if, God forbid, the day comes where you and I ever fall in love with the same person, we can talk about it. But I don’t know how soon we’re going to get there’cause I usually threaten the life of anyone who looks at your ass for longer than ten seconds.”
“That’s really hot, babe. The possessiveness thing.” I meet his lips through the shadows, and the flicker of his tongue against mine sends white-hot heat racing up my spine. “It’s really, really hot.”
“Another sign we’re not cut out for throuple life,” Logan whispers. “You wanting me to rip the arms off anyone who tries to make a move on you and all. Doesn’t sound very polyamorous to me.”
I laugh, feeling a relief in it I haven’t felt for hours.
Logan studies me. “We didn’t grow up with a lot of gay role models, you and me. Not when it came to relationships anyway. So sometimes it can feel like we have to do everything our friends are doing. But we don’t. Buckley and Mateo and Jeff…their story’s their story. And our story is ours. And they’re both beautiful stories. There’s nothing wrong with them. Or with us.”
The tension that’s been with me since I got off the phone finally leaves me as I wilt into his embrace.
“There was one thing about their story I really did like, though…” Logan finally says. I sit up again. He raises one eyebrow and gives me a half-cocked grin. “The whole role-play thing. We could stand to do a lot more work on that front.”
“Oh yeah?”
He turns to me, reaching for both my wrists, and before I know it he’s pinning me to our bed, his weight, strength and size combining in a gentle wave that pushes me into the submission I crave. His nose is inches from mine and he’s gently grinding his massive cock against my super-sensitive hole in the way he knows will drive me wild.
“Yeah,” he growls, before planting a long, leisurely kiss on my lips. “I’ve got a lot of ideas.”
“So do I,” I manage when we break for air.
“Like?” Logan asks.
“Like you’re a masked intruder who breaks into the house while I’m home alone and forces me to service you on my knees. Or you’re a difficult guest and when I go to your suite to ask how I can make it right, you bend me over the bed and force me to give you the customer service you really crave. Or it’s my first day working as a cabana boy at the hotel and you give me a security briefing. In your office. With your cock.”
“Wow. You wereveryready for this conversation.”
“Fantasies can never be wrong, right?”
His kiss is forceful and hungry. “Not with you, they can’t,” he says when he finally comes up for air.
A few minutes later, freed of my guilt and my shame, I am riding him, and it feels like we’re joined by more than our bodies and our hearts, but by our filthy minds as well. Dirty imaginations we’ve now pledged to share the same way we share our lives and our home and souls.
Released of these burdens and filled by the man who makes me whole, I am free once again to be proud of the place we built, the place we saved, the place that has satisfied the cravings and the hearts of so many men like us.
THE END