Chapter 9
Gage
I could not get to the shower fast enough. It felt like I was on fire inside, I was so wound up after our kiss. I beelined straight for my bedroom, tossing off clothes into the hamper as fast as I could shed them, snagging lube as I went because I desperately needed a good wank.
I barely had the water warm when I jumped in, lubing up my dick fast. I braced my forearm against the tiles, forehead against my arm, closed my eyes, and imagined that kiss all over again.
I felt the phantom breath, the traces of his lips pressed against mine, the taste of him.
The way he’d groaned when I’d carded my fingers through his hair was an earworm that would live rent-free in my ear for a while.
The memory of his sound and our kiss weren’t enough. They taunted me, tantalized my libido, but weren’t enough to make up for it being my own hand working my dick. I wanted…I needed something…something else, something more—
Frustration built, eating at me, almost overcoming the very memory I desperately clung to. Dammit, do not leave me hanging in my own body. I hated when that happened. I’d be tossing and turning, yearning for the rest of the night.
I flipped, exasperated, my shoulder now pressing against the tiles. I blinked my eyes open, despite the spray hitting my chest, and— Oh the lube bottle. I’d put it there.
I reached for it, but with my off hand, and on some half-formed instinct coated my fingers. Was I…was I actually wanting anal action right now?
Me?
Sliding one finger into my ass, I groaned.
Damn, the pressure against sensitive skin felt blissful.
I slid a second finger in on the off chance it might feel even better, and fuck me, that was precisely what the doctor ordered.
I worked those two fingers into my ass, my front hand picking up the tempo so I was jacking myself off at the same time.
My imagination took over, whipping up a fantasy—it wasn’t my fingers but Logan’s cock thrusting into me. A shiver of arousal raced up my spine, then down again, and I groaned. My rational mind knew he wasn’t with me, but right now, I preferred fantasy over reality.
The tension built and I worked my fingers even harder, clawing at a climax, feeling it hovering just out of reach. Come on, come on, almost, almost!
I threw my head back on a shout as I came hard over my hand and the tiles, slumping sideways as my knees went weak. I stood there, letting the warm water wash over me, staring at nothing as realization hit with all the gentleness of a meteor choosing which part of Earth to land on.
I’d just…Had I really just imagined bottoming for Logan? And got off on it?
Me?!
If there was anyone who was a hardcore top, I would have put my name on the top of the list. Swear to god, after my last bottoming experience, I’d sworn off even trying for a guy. Either I topped or we did mutual masturbation—that was it. Those were the options.
I’d enjoyed fingers in my ass. Surprisingly so.
Come to think of it, had I ever put anything in my ass of my own accord?
Like, I’d never even tried a dildo. The only two times something had been in my ass, another guy had been attached to it.
Not only were they terrible at being tops, but I hadn’t liked how vulnerable I’d felt.
I’d felt trapped the entire time, like I couldn’t force them off even though I’d kinda wanted to.
So I’d just let them finish and then got out of there.
An epiphany was incoming. I felt it building.
Was it just bad experiences bottoming that had made me feel like I was a top?
Or was it the vulnerability I’d hated?
I couldn’t imagine anyone enjoyed feeling vulnerable with someone they didn’t fully trust. I sure hadn’t. It was why I’d locked in on this plan of no sex until several dates in, because I was not opening myself up again for a person who didn’t actually deserve it.
Clearly some part of my brain trusted Logan if it fantasized about being spread out under him. Granted, he was a parade of green flags walking around, so no surprise there.
Still.
I was thirty years old and figuring this shit out? Really?
Well. I would definitely sleep on this realization. This was something I needed time to adjust to, because wow. That was a lot.
Logan and I obviously hadn’t talked sex yet, nor would we for a few dates, probably.
When the conversation came up, I was going to need to explain a few tragic sexcapades first, so he understood my history before I put the offer of fucking me on the table.
I’d bet anything he’d be super good to me as he eased me into this new aspect of sex.
In the meantime, sleep. And avoid Asher until I knew how to keep my revelation off my face. I refused to give him any more mileage than he already had.
Fridays were busy for Blackbird, but I hoped that by swinging by for lunch, as I’d teasingly promised Logan, I wouldn’t be too much of a bother. He’d be busy for lunch but not slammed, not like he would be for the dinner and after-dinner hours.
Or so I prayed.
Everyone had been gone this morning at the office, all off on their own errands, so it was easy to sneak out early for lunch and go to Blackbird.
I even found a decent parking spot; a miracle in downtown Plymouth.
I also brought the DnD character sheets, the player’s handbook, and a character idea, as promised.
I wanted him to play with me, which meant prep needed to happen.
I entered through the parking lot door, into the dimmer lighting of the bar. It was a nice relief from the blazing hot July sun for sure. Most of the lighting inside seemed to be from the big picture windows.
The crowd in here was quite the mix. I saw professionals on a lunch break, teenagers hanging out with friends, a few young mothers with older grandparents grabbing a bite for lunch.
If memory served, Logan employed good cooks, as the food here had been pretty decent the few times I’d ordered takeout.
Speaking of, there he was. Knowing he’d worked at a bar before ever owning one, I could see his history in his actions. Logan was perfectly comfortable behind his bar, chatting with customers and slinging drinks.
I couldn’t make myself behave. I had my phone in hand, taking a picture of him, because I wanted to capture the moment. He was so competent, so naturally himself, I felt I had to preserve this time somehow.
One of his customers pointed a finger in my direction. Oop, caught now.
Logan turned his head, caught me with my phone still in hand, and didn’t miss a beat. He slapped a hand to his right butt cheek. “It’s my ass, isn’t it? I know it looks amazing in these jeans.”
“Oh, thank god, so you do know.” I put a theatrical hand to my forehead in relief, then walked up to the bar. “That was going to be so awkward to explain otherwise. Here, face away again, I want to get five or ten closeups—”
He caught my arm, tugging me over the counter to smack a kiss against my mouth. Oh, yum, I had not expected him to kiss me in front of an audience. His confidence was also sexy as hell. So much of this man was a turn-on, I was in danger of losing the bet with Asher. Because goddamn.
“Be good,” he murmured against my mouth.
“So, after due consideration, that sounds far less fun. Can I interest you in something else, perhaps? Mischief, shenanigans, lunch date?”
“Lunch date I’ll take.” He took a half step back and indicated the bundle I held in my other hand. “What’s this?”
“Character sheet, player’s handbook, and a wacky character idea.”
“Oooh. You do bring goodies.” He tilted his head to look behind me. “Heather, you got it?”
“Sure,” a female voice answered airily. “Go smooch.”
“Happily.” He focused back on me. “What do you want for lunch? I’ll submit the order to the kitchens before we retreat to my office.”
“I have no idea. Where’s a menu?”
He handed me a menu, and I gave it a good once-over, but those fish and chips looked delicious. I ordered that, a side salad, and a Coke. Logan took his own order, submitted it to the kitchen, the led me into the back area expressly marked as Employees Only.
Made me wonder… “I’ve seen three Employees Only signs. Do you really have that many people who wander back here?”
“Sure. Drunks can’t read.”
He had me there.
Now, his office looked more lived in than I’d expected but was somehow cleaner than I’d expected, too.
He had three chairs, all of them clear—a feat my own office chairs could not claim—plus I could see different patches of his desk.
Aside from a stack of what looked like bills and such and a laptop, he didn’t have a ton of things on its surface.
A few family pictures, but that was about it.
I plopped into the chair beside the desk.
“Now, first question, how much do you remember?”
“Man, I’ll be honest, I was around sixteen the last time I played. And drunk. I remember very little. Maybe start with an overview of the classes?”
Fair. If you asked me about the mechanics of a board game I’d last played at sixteen, I’d remember fuck-all too. I ran him through the classes, trying to keep it like a ballpark summary.
Logan listened hard, but he was also staring at the player’s handbook like it was the holy writ.
“Any questions?” I had one: How much had sunk in?
“Do I have questions? Yeah. Mostly for god at this point.” He ran a hand over his face. “Why is my memory so shitty?”
“I’m going to let you two have that heart-to-heart.
I can’t help you there. Now, I do have a character idea in mind, and you can use it or not.
It’s a one-shot, so if you’re not in love with whatever we create, no loss.
You won’t need to play the character again.
It’s not this coming Monday, but the week after. ”
“Alrighty. Sounds like a saner approach, at least until I get back up to speed. Hit me, what’s your idea?”
I laid it out for him, and he liked the sound of it, so we started filling in the character sheet. He at least remembered to fill it out using a pencil. So many new players tried to use a pen, and you just couldn’t—too many of the stats changed as the game progressed.
There was a timid knock at the door.
Logan turned to look, his brows furrowed up in a perplexed manner. “Uh, come in?”
A beat.
Silence.
“Cooooooome in~” he sing-songed.
“Boss, you sure you’re, like, decent?”
I tried to hide a laugh behind one hand and kind of failed.
Logan rolled his eyes before getting up and yanking the door open. “Yes, Bryce, I’ve got pants on.”
“Oh, wow. You really do.” Bryce turned out to be a beanpole-looking kid with a stereotypical geeky air, like he was assembled mostly from acne and technical jargon. “I fully expected someone bent over the desk and jeans around the ankles. Anyway, here’s your lunch.”
I cleared off books so my lunch could be delivered to the desk. I tried hard not to laugh at Bryce’s comment. He held malice behind it, just surprise we weren’t getting it on back here. Logan didn’t even look embarrassed, just exasperated. I liked very much that he wasn’t embarrassed.
Logan took the last of his lunch off the tray and shooed Bryce out. Bryce left with pep in his step. He was not going to be a third wheel, no siree.
Regaining his seat, Logan looked me over, brow quirked. “I see you laughing.”
“I’m actually delighted.” I leaned in to kiss him, softly, lingering until I felt him melt. Straightening, I kept my voice low, a little throaty, just to watch a bite of hunger enter his eyes. “I’m happy people look at us and can tell how much I want you. I’m happy you do nothing to deny it.”
“I can’t imagine even pretending you’re not important,” he murmured, eyes fixated on my mouth.
“Good answer.” I kissed him again, but I knew I played with fire. We both knew it.
I chose, regretfully, to be a good boy and sit back in my chair.
“I know you’d rather eat me,” I teased while picking up the ketchup, “but eat your lunch.”
“I’ll eat my lunch.” Logan’s gaze swept over me. He was without a doubt undressing me with his eyes and wasn’t even trying to pretend otherwise. “But mark my words, at some point, I will eat you.”
Oh, if he only knew.