Just a Bit Wrecked (Straight Guys #11) - Alessandra Hazard Page 0,38

world. Like two pieces of a puzzle. Two pieces of a puzzle that should have never fit together and yet they had somehow learned to—and now couldn’t unlearn it.

“I hate this,” Andrew said, his voice wavering.

“I know,” Logan said. “Me, too.”

He meant it. He hated how right this felt—holding this mess of a human being, this guy who was a total wreck, who was bigoted and beyond repressed but at the same time vulnerable, lonely, and hungry for affection and approval.

“It’s like a fucking disease,” Andrew said into his chest, barely audibly. “Something empty and wrong inside me. I feel like—like a river without water. The world feels so off without you, and you’re the only thing that makes me feel whole.”

Christ.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, his cock so hard it was uncomfortable. Nothing about Andrew’s words should have been arousing. Nothing.

“And yet you can’t even admit that you want me,” Logan said roughly.

Silence.

Logan heaved a sigh. “You should go.” He was aware how insincere his voice sounded. It probably wasn’t convincing at all, considering that his arms were wrapped tightly around the other man, and his body was rigid with the effort not to grope Andrew all over. Fuck, he wanted him. He wanted to flip Andrew onto his back and pound this infuriating, confusing mess of a man into the mattress, screw Andrew on his cock until Andrew could feel him against his fucking heart. He’d never wanted to fuck, to possess anyone more. He’d never felt like he’d explode if he didn’t put his cock into someone and mark them up from the inside.

But why shouldn’t he? Maybe he should just fuck Andrew. Maybe that was exactly what he needed to get him out of his system.

No matter how hard Logan tried to shake the idea off, it refused to go away. What did they have to lose, really? Just once. They could do it just once.

Before he could stop himself, he moved his hands lower, slipping them under the waistband of Andrew’s boxers. Andrew didn’t even tense, which probably spoke volumes of how accustomed to touching each other they were, but fuck, the mere fact that this supposedly straight guy needed him so badly that even feeling Logan’s hands on his ass didn’t bother him at all… it was like a heady drug. The worst kind of drug.

Logan had never considered himself a possessive man. He’d always thought possessiveness didn’t belong in the modern world. But this submissiveness, the way Andrew allowed Logan to touch him anywhere he wanted, brought out primitive instincts that were more appropriate for a caveman. Mine, they whispered, like poison in his mind. Mine mine mine.

Andrew’s cheeks were silky smooth and just the right size, plump but firm. Logan kneaded them greedily for a while, enjoying the way they felt in his hands, the way Andrew allowed him this without any protest.

Finally, Logan reached out to the nightstand and retrieved the lube from the drawer.

Andrew tensed only when Logan pressed a slick finger between his cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Logan said, massaging his hole with his fingers.

Andrew was twitching, tense—but still not pulling away. “You aren’t—you aren’t fucking me,” he said, but he didn’t sound all that sure. “Stop.”

Logan ignored him, knowing how it went. If Andrew truly wanted him to stop, he would use his safeword.

He pushed a finger into the tight hole, and Andrew inhaled sharply. “N-no,” he stuttered. “Don’t.”

“All you have to do is say your safeword: funeral,” Logan said. “And I’ll stop. But your ‘no’ and ‘stop’ don’t mean shit. We both know it.”

“No,” Andrew said. “Stop—don’t—ah—”

“You like this,” Logan stated, slipping another finger into him. He found Andrew’s prostate and stroked it, drawing muffled moans from the guy on his chest. “Say it.”

“I’m not—ah—”

“Not gay?” Logan said, working his fingers in and out of him. Christ, he was so fucking tight. “Then say the word, and I’ll stop. I’ll pull my fingers out and we can pretend you hated this. Or…”

Andrew was silent, but his silence was tense, questioning.

“Or I can put you on your back and fuck you with my cock,” Logan said hoarsely, stabbing his fingers against Andrew’s prostate. Andrew shuddered. Logan smiled and massaged the bump in circular motions. Andrew let out a long moan, moving his hips involuntarily.

Logan put his free hand on Andrew’s lower back, pressing their bare stomachs together. “Just imagine, Drew,” he said, his voice so deep and husky it didn’t even sound like his