Logan mumbled something in his sleep, and his hips started thrusting shallowly.

Andrew bit his bottom lip hard, swallowing a moan. He should stop Logan. He should shove him off. He should—

He moaned into the pillow as Logan’s rhythm increased. God, he really was a cock slut. He could only hope Logan wouldn’t wake up. He wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.

“Morning,” Logan said into his ear, his voice husky from sleep.

Andrew wished for the ground to open and swallow him. He didn’t say anything, hoping Logan would think he was asleep.

With a soft snort, Logan continued moving. Thrusting. “I know you aren’t asleep,” he said, nuzzling into the side of Andrew’s face, his hips moving faster, the obscene slaps of skin against skin filling the room. “You can stop pretending now.”

Andrew remained quiet, biting the pillow to muffle any noise.

Logan, the asshole, had the nerve to laugh. “I can see how red your ears are,” he said conversationally, biting his earlobe. “You’re blushing, Drew.”

Andrew’s chest felt funny—full, and warm, and something else. Thankfully, Logan’s next thrust shifted his attention back to the cock in his ass. It rubbed against that spot in him again, and Andrew couldn’t swallow his moan this time.

Logan went still.

“No,” Andrew whined before he could stop himself.

“Ask,” Logan said into his ear. “I’m not playing the game today. You’ll have to ask for it this time. Or I won’t give you my cock.”

“I hate you,” Andrew grumbled, shaking with impatience. God, he wanted Logan to move. He wanted thrusting. He wanted to be fucked.

“I’m waiting, Drew,” Logan said nipping the back of his neck, his hips infuriatingly still. “Say ‘fuck me.’ It’s easy. You know you want to.”

Andrew opened his eyes and glared at the headboard. “I won’t.”

“Okay,” Logan said, starting to pull out.

“No,” Andrew bit off. He breathed in shakily. “I need you.”

Logan shuddered. “You aren’t playing fair, damn you.”

Andrew smiled a little. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how much Logan liked when he said it. “I need you,” he whispered again, squeezing the cock in him. “Need you.”

With a growl, Logan snapped. He resumed fucking him, hard and fast.

Andrew couldn’t stop his moans anymore. The mattress was bouncing with the force of Logan’s thrusts, and the cock moving in him felt so unbelievably good that tears sprang to Andrew’s eyes. His ah, ah, ahs became so embarrassingly loud that he could only hope the walls were soundproof.

It took him only a few minutes to come, shaking and groaning. He lay, boneless and overwhelmed, in a pool of his own jizz, as Logan sought his orgasm.

When it was over, Andrew rolled Logan onto his back and sprawled on top of him in his favorite position, laying his head over Logan’s heart.

Logan’s arms wrapped around him, and Andrew allowed himself a small smile against Logan’s chest.

He had no idea what they were doing, but right now he felt too good to care.

He felt perfect. Whole.

Chapter 19

The day passed in a blur of sex and Logan Logan Logan. They dozed, fucked, dozed, and then fucked again. Andrew felt high, his senses overstimulated, his body one raw nerve of pleasure. It felt like a dream. It felt like a descent into madness. Like falling into an ocean and voluntarily drowning.

He fell asleep at some point, exhausted and sated.

He dreamed of the plane crash.

He dreamed of screams, fear, and the feeling of utter helplessness. He dreamed of shaking Vivian’s still body, begging her to wake up. Why wouldn’t she wake up? Part of him realized that it was a dream, that he’d had this nightmare countless times already. Vivian wouldn’t wake up, because she was dead. Logan would tell him that in a moment.

But Logan remained quiet this time.

Confused, he turned away from Vivian and stumbled back in shock. Logan was still in his seat, his neck at an unnatural angle. His dark eyes were blank. Lifeless.

Andrew woke up with a start, a scream caught in his throat.

His heart beating erratically, he looked around. The room was empty.

Wild panic gripped him.

He stumbled out of the bed, looking around in a daze. Where was he?

The door.

He grabbed the door handle, pushed it open, and stepped out of the room. Bright lights from the hall blinded him for a moment.

When his gaze focused, it fell on the tall man nearby. The man’s back was to him, but Andrew would recognize it anywhere.

His relief was so strong his knees nearly buckled. He must have made some noise, because Logan turned around and froze.

It took Andrew’s sleep-frazzled brain a moment to understand why. Logan wasn’t alone. He had been speaking to two men, one of whom Andrew vaguely recognized as the hotel’s manager. They all were finely dressed—while Andrew very much wasn’t. He was only in his boxers.

Andrew flushed. He probably looked a sight: his hair a bird’s nest, his body nearly naked. And he’d just emerged out of Logan’s suite, probably leaving little doubt about what they had been doing there, considering his state of undress.

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