Page 9

Logan peels off my pants and underwear and helps me step out of them, conscious of my physical limitations.

"You comfortable?" he asks, curling his fingers along my rigid cock and looking up at me, letting out an adorable series of blinks.

I'm leaning against the counter and am steady on my feet, so this is about as comfortable as I can be. "I am."

"Good."

And with that, my best friend opens his mouth and takes me in. The sight of my cock disappearing into him makes my knees wobble, and I grip the bench tighter to not lose my balance. "Holy fucking shit."

For some reason, I always thought Logan would be a quiet sex person. Don't know where that idea came from, but it turns out, I'm wrong. Very wrong. The sounds of Logan's slurps fill the entire house as he slobbers messily all over my cock, riding it up and down, using his mouth, his tongue, his fingers to get me off. And that's in addition to the moaning. Fuck, his moaning. It's almost pornographic…and so fucking hot.

Logan stops using his mouth and treats me to a double-handed handjob, working his palms back and forth over my saliva-slicked cock. Goodbye, Hattie, hello, indescribable pleasure.

"Fuck," I hiss, charging my hands through his hair. "Feels so good."

He looks up at me, grinning, as he rubs his palms together with my dick the only thing separating them. Pleasure rolls through my entire body.

"You like?"

"More than like. I love it," I grit out, silently urging myself not to come too soon. I don't want this to be over yet. There's a bit of spit running down his chin. I scoop it away and stare into his eyes. "Can I fuck you?"

He smiles, and it's the sexiest, dirtiest smile I've ever seen in my life. I can't get enough of this new confident, sexual side of Logan. He stands up. "Thought you'd never ask. How can we make that happen?"

Hmm. Good question. I haven't been with anyone since the accident, so I haven't had to figure out the logistics of fucking with a limited range of motion. And now I'm hard and horny, my brain isn't all that useful.

"I have an idea," Logan says, saving me from coming up empty-handed. He takes my hand in his and leads me into the living room. "Don't move," he says, racing down the hallway. When he returns, he flings a bottle of lube and some condoms over the couch. "Miss me?" he murmurs, pressing his lips against mine.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I growl.

He giggles and takes a few steps back. With his eyes locked on mine, he takes off his clothes, first his long-sleeved heather-gray T-shirt, then his jeans, then his socks, then his square-cut black trunks.

My eyes roam over his naked body. It's even better than I imagined it would be. A lean frame with defined muscles, each line visible but not overly bulky, toned chest and arms, a faint outline of abs. His skin is smooth and pale, but not sickly so, more like translucent. A faint trail leads to a neatly trimmed patch just above his cock.

But his ass? Still don't have a clear view of that yet.

As if reading my thoughts, he says, "What do you think of this? His voice is so sultry, his energy so sexual, it makes me fall even more in love with him than I already am. With a suggestive wink, he folds himself over the back of the couch and sticks his ass out into the air.

"I think I'm going to have to make that ass mine," I mutter, approaching him with a hard-on that's so rock-hard it's almost painful.

When I reach Logan, my cock is perfectly at the level of his pink hole. I swipe my cock against his ass cheeks as I rub my thumb up and down his smooth taint. He passes me the bottle of lube over his shoulder. "Don't use too much. I want the burn."

I manage not to pass out and, instead, revel in this dirty side of my best friend, pour some lube over my fingers, then begin teasing his entrance. He pushes back, cooing and moaning, hungry for more.

"Patience," I say. "Good things come to those who wait."

He shoots an unimpressed look over his shoulder. "I've been waiting far too long."

"Yeah. We both have."

Our eyes lock, and an intense feeling of desire mixed with excitement and a dash of nerves washes over me. I can't believe this is really happening.

He's right, though. We've waited so long for this moment, and now that it's finally here, why go slow? Why not plunge straight into it?

So that's exactly what I do. After warming him up with one finger, I slide a condom over my shaft and grease it up good. He wants a burn, fine. I'll make him feel this for days.

Holding on to his hips, I bring my swollen head to his hole. "Ready?"

"I am. I want you to fuck me, Wade."

My name spilling out of his mouth ignites me, and I surge forward, my cock sliding into his warm, tight channel. I only go about halfway in before pulling out and going again. I want him to feel it, but I don't want to hurt him.

Every time, I reach a little farther. "So good," he groans as I stuff nearly all my meat into him. "Give it all to me."

With my next thrust, that's what I do. "You like that?"

He lets out an almighty scream. A deep rumble emanates from my chest. I've sunk all the way into my best friend, and I've got him screaming with pleasure on my dick. This isn't good, or great, or even amazing… It's fucking euphoric.

We fuck over the couch until my leg starts to go numb, then switch to a fluffy white rug near the fireplace. He's on his back, and I'm on top. The couch was fun, but staring into his beautiful eyes is so much better.

Logan starts jerking himself off, his moans only getting louder and more intense. I mentally map the distance between us and his closest neighbors because something tells me half the mountain is going to hear him come.

"Getting close," he mumbles, stroking himself faster as I ramp up my thrusts. My hip is killing me, but I ignore it, determined to keep going until I make him explode. I smack his hand away and take hold of his dick. It's a lot like him, a compact little rocket, and it fits so snugly in my palm.

I jerk him off as I continue plowing into him.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck! FUUUUUUCK!"

I slow my thrusts and speed up my hand movements as Logan loses it, his whole body rocking, his cock erupting with wild streaks of goo that splash up to my beard and all over the place, like a blender without the lid on.

"Fuck," he cries out, panting loudly as he runs a hand through his curls. He looks up at me, and his eyes widen. "Oh, shit. I got some on your beard."

He reaches up and picks the glob of cum off my beard. I grab his wrist and bring his hand to my mouth, wanting to sample him. "Mmm." I lick his fingers. "You taste good."

He giggles adorably, his cheeks turning pink. "Well, now it's my turn."

I ease out of him, and he wriggles around, peels the condom off, and resumes where he left off, going to town on my cock like his life depends on it. I grip the sides of his face, my arms swinging with the momentum he's working up.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the edge. "Come in my mouth," he orders before engulfing me again.

"I'm almost there."

He goes even faster and does something with his tongue on the underside of my shaft that drives me wild.

"I'm coming!" I cry out.

My balls tighten and my vision blurs as I struggle to stay upright, my orgasm torpedoing into me at a million miles an hour. Slurping up my release, Logan makes such hot sounds I swear it gives my orgasm a second wind, as I sputter and shake and do my best not to topple over.

When I'm finally done, I collapse beside him, trying to catch my breath while ignoring the fireball of pain raging in my hip. "That was…"

"Incredible?" he finishes for me.

I find his hand and lace my fingers through his. "Yeah," I say, staring up at the ceiling. "Incredible."

As my breathing returns to normal, I start to worry. Logan and I have one of the rarest things in the world—a years-long friendship that's still fresh and exciting while also familiar and comfortable at the same time. I really hope we haven't just fucked things up.

I don't just mean having sex. What if we're on different pages when it comes to what we want? I'm in love with Logan, and despite the sorry state of my life, I want to be with him. But what if that's not what he wants?

What if he's happy with a friends-with-benefits arrangement? Could I live with that? What if I try to and screw things up because my feelings won't go away?

What if everything blows up in our faces and we lose it all?

I spend the following week helping out at the diner, hanging out with Sofie and Jax after school, and spending my evenings buried deep in Logan's tight ass.

Except for Sunday, his weekly dinner with his folks.

He invited me along, saying they'd love to see me, but I made plans with Hattie instead.

It's not that I don't want to see them, but his mom is a cozy mystery author. She can be a little intense with her questioning, and Logan and I are still in the very early stages of figuring things out.

"Thanks again for dinner," I say as Logan scoops up our plates and takes them to the sink.

"My pleasure. Thanks for fixing that jammy cupboard door today. It's been bugging me for ages."

"It was nothing." I sit down in my usual spot at the counter as Logan fills the sink with warm water. I like this domesticity, and I like that we can balance sweet moments like this with the feral, primal way we fuck. It's like we're adding new elements to the mix, and it's not disrupting what we have together. Thank god.

Hattie's still on my case to keep talking to Logan and tell him what I'm feeling. So, with a deep breath, I open my mouth. "I've been doing some thinking."

"Oh, yeah. What about?"

"The future. My future." I clear my throat. "Our future." He places the sudsy plate by the side of the sink and turns to face me. "Uh, the plate," I point out, since I know how much he hates suds.

He looks down at it, splashes some more sudsy water on it, and shrugs. "Fuck the plate. Tell me what you've been thinking." He dries his hands and pulls out a stool then sits next to me.

"Well, I want to stay in Thickehead. I love Hattie and the kids, and they need me, especially while Charlie's away. I want to be here for them." I reach down and flick Logan's leg. "And I want to be here with you."

His lips twitch. "You do?"

"Of course I do. We've been fucking every night."

"Oh, so you just want me for my body? Got it."

He swats my chest, and I laugh. "No. Of course not. I love you, Logan, and I know I'm a complete mess, and you could find someone a thousand times better?—"

My words are cut off with a sharp kiss. With his lips pressed against mine, he fists my shirt and says, "There is no one better than you, Wade. I love you, too."

"I—I'm going to do the work," I say, pulling back and staring into his eyes.

"The work?"

"Yeah. You know. Get a job. Find a place to live. Become an actual adult instead of a fuckup excuse of a manchild."

He tweaks my nipple through my shirt. "Every time you say stupid shit like that, you get one of those."

I rub my pec because he's got some seriously strong fingers. "What if I like it?"

"Then I'll revoke your access to my ass."

"Okay, okay. I'll stop saying stupid shit. Promise."

He grins and runs his fingers through my hair near my ear. "Good. Because I want you to know I love you for who you are, Wade. You're a good person who's been through a rough time. You'll figure everything out. I believe in you."

I take a second to process what he's saying. I'm my own worst critic, and my self-talk over this past year has been harsh, to say the least. Tears well in my eyes. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"So…does this mean we're together?"

"I'd love that. If that's what you want?"

His entire face lights up, his blue eyes sparkling like the ocean on a summer's day. "It is." He takes my hand in his. "More than anything. And whatever you need, no matter how long it takes you to get on your feet, I want you to know I'm here for you. Okay?"

"Thank you." A single tear slides down my cheek. "Actually, there is one thing I've been meaning to ask you."