CHAPTER 3- WANT TO TOUCH MY COCK?

Logan Wale slammed the door of his penthouse behind him, the sound echoing through the empty marble foyer. It was barely nine-thirty at night, but the day had been torture. Every time Damon had walked past his office, every lingering glance, every teasing smile had chipped away at his sanity. He refused to let that spoiled brat get under his skin any deeper.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself as he loosened his tie and poured a glass of whiskey. “I’ve been working too damn hard, I'm getting sexually frustrated and sex-starved, nothing more.”

He needed a woman tonight. Soft curves, sweet perfume, a warm and willing cunt that would remind him exactly what he liked. No more confusing thoughts. No more hazel eyes or sharp cheekbones haunting him.

Thirty minutes later, Logan stepped into Eclipse, one of the city’s most exclusive private clubs. The bass of the music pulsed through his chest as the hostess led him to a VIP booth in a dimly lit corner. Low crimson lighting bathed everything in a sensual glow. Bodies moved on the dance floor, laughter and whispered conversations mixing with the heavy music.

This was it, the perfect place to get laid without consequences.

He hadn’t been sitting for five minutes before the first lady approached him. She was tall and blonde, wearing a red skimpy dress that barely covered anything. She smiled seductively and slid in beside him.

“Hey handsome” she purred, clearly interested in him. “What's a sexy man like you doing all alone here?"

A brunette lady soon joined, she was so thick and soft Logan was reassured himself of his sexuality since he noticed. Within minutes, their hands were roaming his body seductively, giggling at anything he said. Drinks flew around adding to the euphoria of the moment.

Logan tried to lose himself in it. He let the blonde trail her fingers down his chest. He even smirked when the brunette whispered filthy promises in his ear. This was what he needed. This was normal.

But when the blonde’s hand boldly slid over his thigh and cupped his cock through his trousers, stroking him slowly, something felt… wrong.

In his mind, it wasn’t her manicured hand. It was Damon’s long, elegant fingers confidently teasing him, knowing exactly how to touch him. Logan’s cock hardened anyway, but the fantasy made his jaw clench in irritation.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He downed the rest of his drink and stood up abruptly, causing the women to protest.

“I need some air,” he growled.

As he turned to leave the booth, his eyes caught movement in the shadows at the far end of the curved sofa. Hidden partially by the low lighting was fucking Damon Thorne. He sat there, legs spread lazily, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, he was watching Logan with a smug, knowing smirk that made Logan’s blood boil.

Damon raised his glass in a mocking toast, hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Logan’s temper flared. Wasn't He supposed to go home after work? Why the hell is he here? Wait...did he follow me here? This little shit thinks he can toy with me?

To prove to both himself and that smug bastard that Damon had zero power over him, Logan reached for the blonde again. He sat back and pulled her onto his lap, straddling her so her short dress rode up high. She gasped in delight, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck.

Logan kissed her hard.

It was deliberate and aggressive. His large hand gripped the back of her neck as his tongue invaded her mouth. But his eyes stayed locked on Damon across the booth. He refused to look away. The kiss deepened, wet and messy and the lady moaned into his mouth but Logan maintained eye contact with the man who had been tormenting him for days.

Damon looked amused that Logan was putting up all this show for him.

The blonde moaned, grinding down against the bulge in his pants. He told himself this was working. This was proof that he wasn't broken. Logan’s hand slid between her thighs, but his gaze never wavered from Damon.

Damon’s smirk slowly faded into something darker and hungrier. His eyes dropped to where the girl was moving on Logan’s lap, where Logan's hand had disappeared to between her legs.

She broke the kiss with a breathless moan and slid down between his legs. Her fingers worked his belt open with practiced ease, freeing his cock into the warm, hazy air of the club. No one around them seemed to care or notice in the dim lighting and thumping music. She wrapped her hand around him first, stroking once, twice, then leaned in and took him into her hungry mouth.

"Fuck..." Logan groaned quietly.

God! She was fucking good at this!

Logan exhaled sharply, threading his fingers through her hair.

He stared across at Damon. Logan’s breath hitched when he realized what was happening.

Damon had shifted. His hand was now between his own legs, slowly palming himself through his pants as he watched. Their eyes met. Damon’s tongue traced his lower lip. Then, deliberately, he opened his fly, pulled out his own cock that was already hard and began stroking himself in long, lazy pulls. His other hand slipped under his shirt, pinching a nipple, twisting just enough to make his breath hitch visibly.

A low groan escaped Damon, audible even over the music.

He should have closed his eyes. Should have focused on the wet heat sucking him so eagerly. But instead, his gaze stayed fixed on Damon.

The girl’s mouth moved faster, sucking him deeper, but his focus was still on Damon’s hand twisting the head of his cock, spreading the bead of precum that glistened there. Damon moaned loudly as pinched his nipple harder, hips subtly rocking into his own fist.

The sight sent a violent jolt of arousal through Logan.

He tightened his grip in the blonde’s hair and started thrusting up into her mouth, fucking her face with deeper, rougher strokes. His eyes burned into Damon’s as the other man jerked off faster, clearly getting off on watching Logan receive pleasure.

Logan’s hips snapped upward, pushing his thick cock deeper down the girl’s throat. She gagged softly but kept going, saliva dripping down his shaft. Across from him, Damon’s hand moved in sync, twisting over the head of his cock on every upstroke. Damon’s chest heaved, nipples hard and red from how harshly he was pinching them. His moans were low but audible over the music if Logan focused.

It was filthy. It was wrong.

And it was driving Logan insane with lust.

He fucked the girl’s mouth harder, imagining, against his will, that it was Damon’s throat taking his cock. The pressure built rapidly. Across the way, Damon’s strokes became erratic, his mouth opening slightly as he neared the edge.

Logan came first with a low, guttural groan, hips stuttering as he spilled down the girl’s throat. Damon followed seconds later, back arching slightly as he pumped himself through it, thick ropes of cum landing on his own stomach and hand. His eyes never left Logan’s face.

The sight of Damon’s cum sprayed across his stomach sent another powerful aftershock through Logan’s body.

The moment it was over, disgust and anger crashed over him.

He quickly tucked himself away, pushed the girl off gently with a muttered thanks and a wad of cash, then stood up. Without looking back at Damon, he headed straight for the private bathroom at the back of the VIP section.

Inside the luxurious marble bathroom, Logan locked the door and stared at himself in the mirror. His face was flushed, hair slightly messy. He turned on the tap and washed his hands furiously, then splashed cold water on his face.

Even now, his mind kept replacing the blonde’s mouth with Damon’s. Those full lips stretched wide. That teasing tongue. That smug expression.

“God damn it,” he hissed, gripping the edge of the sink.

A sharp knock sounded on the door.

Logan yanked it open, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off.

Damon slipped inside before he could stop him, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He looked thoroughly fucked, shirt still half-open, hair messy, a faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone.

“What the hell are you doing?” Logan growled. “This is a private bathroom.”

Damon shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ve already seen your cock twice now, Mr. Wale. Privacy feels a bit pointless between us.” He pulled some tissues from the dispenser and casually began cleaning the mess off his stomach and hand.

Logan should have looked away.

He didn’t.

His eyes kept dropping to Damon’s cock, still half-hard and glistening as Damon wiped it clean. It was long and smooth with a slight upward curve. Unwanted thoughts flooded Logan's mind, thoughts like how it would feel in his palm, how it would taste. How Damon would sound if Logan took him into his mouth.

He hated himself for even thinking it.

Damon noticed the staring. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

“Want to touch it?” he asked softly, voice laced with challenge and invitation.

Logan scoffed, forcing his gaze up to Damon’s face. “I’d rather die than touch your cock.”

But he didn’t move away. He didn’t leave.

Damon took a slow step closer. Without breaking eye contact, he gently reached for Logan’s hand. The movement was deliberate, giving Logan every chance to pull back.

Logan didn’t.

Damon wrapped Logan’s large, calloused hand around his own cock. The heat and velvety hardness made Logan’s breath hitch sharply.

Slowly, almost experimentally, Logan stroked once.

"Fuck!" Damon’s head fell back against the stall door with a low, broken moan that went straight to Logan’s groin.