Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Camden
Logan catches me off guard by shoving me back against the elevator wall, his mouth finding mine again before the doors can even slide closed.
I barely have the chance to brace for the impact—be it from the collision with metal, the jolt of the elevator ascending, or the desperation and hunger in his kiss.
I find my bearings quickly, though, wrapping my arms around his waist and hauling him tighter against me while we devour each other.
His tongue rolls and mates with mine while his hands tug my shirt free from my pants, only to slip up my chest to the collar, where he makes quick work of loosening the tie knotted at my throat.
The buttons go next, the first two flicking open with ease, but he must get impatient when he fumbles with the third, because he suddenly grabs both sides and yanks them apart instead.
I chuckle against his lips at the sound of them pinging against the metal walls, but it’s quickly swallowed down when he dives in again, kissing me with a furious kind of passion. The kind that can only come from months of longing and yearning finally coming to a head.
His hands slip between us, gliding over my newly exposed stomach, then up my sides, before he moans against my mouth.
“God, your body is even better now. How is that possible?”
“Hockey,” I whisper with a laugh as his lips move to my throat. “Lots of hockey.”
“Maybe my hatred for the sport was misplaced after all, especially if it’s the reason for my newest obsession,” he rasps before he scrapes his teeth over my jaw, nipping at the short stubble there. An appreciative little hum leaves him, and he murmurs, “You should’ve let this grow out sooner.”
The elevator dings before I can respond, but Logan doesn’t care; he’s too busy grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the car toward his room.
My lips trace a path over his throat as I wait behind him to get the door open, which only causes him to fumble with his keycard.
And while his blundering is endearing in the most Logan way, it also pumps the brakes on the emotions running high and fast, forcing me to take a step back and think.
Because I know I shouldn’t be doing this—shouldn’t bring sex back into the equation when we haven’t talked this through.
In doing so, I’m opening myself back up for the same pain and heartbreak he imparted on me last year; the kind of longing ache that doesn’t go away, just becomes more tolerable as time passes.
Yet, even with my head screaming at me to walk away, to leave for my own room before I can do something I’ll regret—or worse, something I won’t—I can’t bring myself to stop this. I can’t reason with myself enough to pull away and find some semblance of self-preservation.
Maybe because I know having him again, even if only for a single night, is better than not at all.
Which is why, when Logan grabs me by the tie to drag me through the threshold…I let him.
His mouth finds mine once again as the door slams closed behind us, allotting the freedom to tear fabric from each other’s bodies with reckless abandon. We leave a trail of clothing like breadcrumbs as we stumble deeper into the suite, only to be completely naked by the time we reach the bed.
The ache behind my sternum is more pronounced as I shove him back onto the mattress, but I put whatever mental block up I can muster. I push down the pain, lock up the hurt and discomfort. Shove away the voice shouting at me to run while I still can, and instead focus on being present in the now.
My gaze rakes over his body hungrily, noting the subtle differences the passing time has made, but somehow finding almost every part of him is exactly as I remember it. Same freckle just above his left hip, same long, lithe torso.
The same man I fell helplessly in love with.
His chest rises and falls with his heavy pants while I take him in, watching me with a hunger of his own as he props himself on his elbows.
“As much as I love watching your cock leak just from staring at me, I’d much rather feel it buried deep inside me.”
I wet my lips, only for a teasing grin to form. “Would you, now?”
He nods while slowly sitting up, reaching out, and sliding a palm around the back of my thigh. His other hand mirrors the movement when I willingly step between his parted legs, and a wicked glint shines in his eyes when he looks up at me.
“Unless you wanna start with that blowjob I still owe you.”
“Pretty sure it was two,” I rasp while wrapping my fist around the base of my cock. I tap the crown against his lips, allowing the pre-cum to smear over the lower one before murmuring, “Now, open up.”
The screams in my subconscious are silenced the moment Logan’s lips part and I slide myself inside. Gone is the pain from not being enough, the agony of not being loved back. The anguish I’ve been forced to live with for the past year and half, wishing things could be different.
Except they aren’t gone at all. They’re still there, tucked away in the back of my mind, waiting in the shadows while I’m consumed by the warm, wet heat of Logan’s mouth and the delicious suction he makes with his cheeks.
Eyes falling closed, my fingers sink into the hair on top of his head, gently using the leverage to thrust nice and slow into his mouth.
I keep that pace for a few seconds, doing my best to draw out the pleasure each pump of my hips has coiling inside me, but Logan pops off and starts licking the underside of my cock from base to tip.
“Don’t be shy. Go as rough as you want.” He licks me again, like a goddamn lollipop, before adding, “You know I can take it.”
“Don’t tempt me, Little Reed.”
He shoots me a heated look before he takes me between his lips again, giving a firm suck to my head. I grit my teeth, drawing in a sharp breath at the sensation, only to gasp when the velvety warmth of his mouth envelops my dick again.
Before I can talk myself out of it, my fingers tighten in his hair, and my hips jerk forward, the movement forcing my length deeper into his mouth. Deep enough to tap the back of his throat with my tip, and he gags at the unexpected contact.
But, fuck, the feel of him constricting around my shaft is otherworldly.
“Christ,” I rasp, pulling from his mouth only to smear the saliva over his lips before pushing back inside. “I’ve missed this mouth so much, Lo.”
The heat in his gaze turns from a simmer to a boil, and it’s enough to have my pace quickening more, my hips pistoning forward into his waiting mouth.
The hands on my thighs tighten, the tips of his fingers digging into my skin with every thrust I make, like he’s doing his best to just hang on for the ride.
From the tears welling in his eyes, I’d say he’s barely managing.
But I can’t stand the sight of them glistening there.
All they do is rattle the cage I’ve locked my despair and grief in, reminding me of what I’m trying so goddamn hard to forget.
And it’s a feat that becomes impossible when a tear falls from his lashes, landing on his cheek with a sonic boom that leaves a crater in my chest.
I pull from his mouth and take a step back, leaving him gasping for air as he stares up at me. And even though there’s nothing but want and desire in his eyes, they may as well be mirrors, reflecting all my pain back at me.
God fucking damnit.
“Turn around. On all fours,” I command.
I turn away to grab my wallet, gathering up as much of the escaped emotion as I can before returning to him with a packet of lube.
Thankfully, I find Logan waiting on his hands and knees, perfect ass completely on display for me, per my instructions, and it allows me a moment to tighten the deadbolt on my feelings.
My fingers glide down his spine, only for him to bristle under my touch and goosebumps to break out across his skin.
“God, I’ve missed this view too. This tight little ass.”
“And I’ve mis—”
A sharp gasp leaves him when I lean forward and sink my teeth into one of the globes, feeling his flesh give way. It’s a delicious sound, one that goes straight to my cock, and when I pull back to see the marks my bite left behind, it eases the ache in my chest again.
I give his other cheek a gentle pat, urging him farther up the mattress before crawling up after him. My teeth tear into the packet of lube as I kneel between his parted legs, and I make quick work of spreading the cool liquid over my shaft.
For him, though?
I take my time, smearing his rim with my fingers, relishing every little pant and sigh he makes when I press just hard enough for the tip of my finger to enter him.
But every time I do, he shifts his hips back so he can take more, only for me to pull back just to hear the agonizing little moan that leaves him.
It’s a cycle of pleasure and torment, catch and release.
“Cam, please. I need more,” he pleads, back arching when I deny him once again. “Let me feel you, baby. All of you.”
I hum darkly before giving his ass a gentle slap, only for another choked moan to come out. When I swipe the head over his crease, I’m even harder than I was from him sucking me, if that’s even possible. But seeing him respond to my touch this way, even after all this time, will end me.
He will fucking end me. I know that now more than ever.
I may have thought I was equipped to get through the next two days unscathed, but nothing could’ve prepared me for any of this.
For the first sight of him in over a year, dressed in a suit while standing across the restaurant.
For the painfully awkward small talk, as if he doesn’t know every part of my soul.
For the hope in his eyes as he said those words I never thought I’d hear.