19. Logan #3
“I want to do it,” I interject forcefully, looking up to meet his eyes again. I watch his lashes flick low and then up to my eyes again as he nods. “I’ve thought through it about a hundred times, and I’m not afraid of showing the world my body. Not even a little bit.”
“And you’re still so freaked out you could power the electricity of this whole city block right now?”
“Yep. And I still want to do it,” I tell him as my fingers return to the buttons and I finally pry the damn shirt off.
I shove off everything below the belt just as quickly, refusing to stop for anything now.
The breeze coming through the windows hits my skin all over and it cools me down as I stand there naked in front of Chase.
I drop down onto the floor beside the wall like he was asking me to do a few minutes ago, lying back and propping my head up with my arm.
But the moment he steps over toward me, my cock twitches again.
The sight of Chase, fully clothed, standing tall above me is too much to ignore. I feel like he’s surveying my body like it’s one of his own art pieces, and his gaze travels along every inch of my skin like a hot light.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I tell him.
He lifts an eyebrow. “I’m working.”
“If you look at me like that, I’m going to be hard the whole time. I want to do a tasteful, artistic nude shoot, not one where my cock is a tentpole the whole time.”
“I know you’re no stranger to self-control,” Chase says. It doesn’t help the situation.
I puff out a breath of air. “I don’t know if I have access to that kind of control when I’m in a room with you.”
Chase doesn’t miss a beat. He nods, his gaze burning into me.
“Then take care of it. Go.”
I furrow my brow at him. “What?”
“Get yourself off. Then your cock will behave for the photoshoot.”
I pause for a moment, letting his words hang in the air.
My eyes flutter shut as I take a breath.
I hear a light thud as Chase sets down his camera. He wastes no time. A moment later, there’s a heavy weight along my thighs, and when I open my eyes I see him straddling me.
“Let me have some of this,” he says softly.
He drags his middle finger across the tip of my cock, slicking it with my precum.
I feel an insistent push at the cleft of my ass a moment later, and my cock jumps.
“What…”
“Open,” he commands.
His other hand reaches low to shove my legs open a little wider, making space so that he can slide his finger over my hole.
“For fuck’s sake, Chase,” I utter. “Is this how you start photoshoots?”
“Only for you.”
I groan as he pushes his finger past my hole, and I catch my breath for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes. He never went that far last year. He teased at me, but his finger is fully inside me now, pushing slowly deeper as I tighten around him.
He pushes his free hand onto the center of my chest now, steadying me, a persistent force above me pinning me in place.
“Tell me the truth about something,” he says as he dips lower.
His necklaces hang over me as he leans, and something in my body snaps into the memory of last year at the sight of it.
“I always tell you the truth.”
He leans down lower.
For a moment I’m certain he’s about to kiss me, but he tilts to one edge of my head at the last moment, brushing his lips over my hair.
He gives his finger another little push inside my ass and I tense up, then relax against him, letting him go deeper.
“You wish this was my cock,” he whispers so close to my ear that I can feel his breath. “Don’t you?”
I swallow hard. He’s so close to my face that the heat radiating from his neck is reaching my face. I look at the little loop of ink from one of the tattoos that stops at his collarbone.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” I tell him.
He pushes his finger deeper, hooking his knuckle deep inside as it rubs over the perfect fucking spot inside me.
“Sometimes I do know what you're thinking. Right now, you wish this finger was my cock. You want me to fuck you, Logan? Tell me the truth.”
I moan beneath him as his lips come down on the side of my neck, sucking a soft, slow kiss there.
“You trying to leave a mark on me for the pictures?” I ask.
“I can if you’d like.”
I swallow. “I’m not answering your question. But I will tell you this. I had to do a shirtless scene a week after I left New York last year, and the makeup artist had to cover up the little marks you left on my chest.”
He hums. “Did that bother you?”
I pull in a slow exhale as he moves lower, sucking my nipple into the slick heat of his mouth.
“No,” I whisper.
He strokes me from the inside like a little reward.
“It didn’t bother you at all, did it?”
“I loved it. I was disappointed when your marks faded from my skin.”
He lets out a low sound like a growl as he moves upward, brushing his nose up my torso like he’s an animal desperate for my scent.
His mouth crushes against mine as he kisses me, his lips claiming mine.
It’s a far stretch with his finger still pressed inside me, so I lean upward to give him a better angle because apparently I’d do anything to please him right now. Heat is surging through my body like a circuit, and as his tongue slides out over mine, I give up trying to fight it.