Chloe snorts. “That tone-deaf shart hound wouldn’t notice how you feel about anything if you wrote it on poster board and held it up in front of his face.”
Chloe’s a huge fan of that star-studded Christmas movie where one of the characters holds up posters declaring his love for another character while playing Silent Night on a CD player outside her door. I, personally, think that scene is creepy as fuck. He declares his undying love for his best friend’s wife after being a dick to her the whole movie and that’s romantic? And then she runs down the steps and kisses him? What if her husband had answered the door?
Anyway, Chloe’s creative insults and crappy taste in movies aside, she’s not wrong about Lance. He probably never noticed anything between me and Logan. It’s not like we ever did anything to notice anyway.
“Wait, whose idea was this? How did this happen? Did he come on to you? Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Um…mine, I showed up at his door last night and seduced him, so no, and it’s only for this weekend, so it’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Silas, I know I’m the one who told you that a little rebound fuck might help you get over Lance, but fucking his dad? I mean, that’s a little…I don’t know…”
“Incestuous?” I put in with a slightly deranged giggle. “Oh no, it can’t be that, remember, because it’s not like Lance ever asked me to marry him. So Logan isn’t my father-in-law and never will be.”
“You don’t want to marry that insecure ass clown, Silas. I’m just saying maybe you need some time to get over him before you jump into something serious.”
“Who said anything about serious, Chloe? I told you this is just for the weekend.”
“Okay, okay.” She sounds doubtful, but whatever, she’s not the boss of me. And now I’m thinking about how I’m letting Logan be the boss of me this weekend, and I’m ready to get off the phone and get back to him.
“I gotta go, Chlo, I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Be safe, Silas. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That really doesn’t leave much out, does it?” Chloe’s very much a I’ll-try-anything-once kind of girl.
“Guess not,” she snickers. “Just…be careful, hon, okay? And text me when you’re heading back to the city.”
“I will,” I promise. I’m already hanging up and heading for the stairs. To Logan.
Thirteen
Logan
I told Silas I’d do some work while he talked with his friend, but all I do is skim through the previews of a dozen or so unread emails to make sure there’s nothing I need to handle today.
And open the message Silas sent me, with his musical files attached. I forward the email to James Cohen and append a quick note, then lean back in my chair.
What the fuck am I doing? Playing with a boy young enough to be my son. Who was dating my son, for Christ’s sake.
Letting him call me Daddy. Spinning out every dirty fantasy I’ve had since I met him. Caging his cock, plugging his ass to stretch him for mine. I haven’t fucked him—I haven’t crossed that line yet—but the real line was crossed when I put my hand around his throat last night.
Or maybe I crossed it when I let him rub his face over my cock in the taxi and feel how hard I was. I should have lifted him off my lap before he noticed. I should have sent him home last night. Or put him up in Lance’s bedroom, or the guest room. Or let him crash on the sofa, for fuck’s sake. Anywhere but in my bed.
Except that the home he had was with my son, who cheated on him. And the responsibility I feel to make up for my son’s betrayal is all tangled up in how much I want him.
How much I want to keep him in my life, even after Lance cast him aside. I want to fuck him—it’s terrifying how much I want to fuck him—but I’ve also always genuinely liked Silas. Having breakfast together, talking about his musical, working on the puzzle together—all these small interactions with him that I’ll lose when he gets his revenge and moves on with his life.
I scrub my hands over my face. Jesus, what kind of a sick fuck am I that I’m willing to trade on Silas’s natural desire for revenge just so I get to spend a few more days with him? I should encourage him to grieve the end of his relationship, take time to get over Lance, and then—when he’s ready—find someone closer to his age.
Not push him into a kinky scenario that only exacerbates the power differential between us. That he’s likely too emotionally distraught to truly consent to.
But I saw the peaceful expression on his face when he agreed to be my boy for the weekend. And how his whole body relaxed when I put the cage on his cock. Silas doesn’t hide his feelings well, at all. He wasn’t faking either reaction. I don’t think he could, even if he wanted to.
It doesn’t make what I’m doing with him right, but damn if it doesn’t feel more right than anything I’ve ever done.
There’s a soft tap on my half-closed office door and Silas peeks his head around it. I close the lid of my laptop and motion that he can come in.
“Hi, sweetheart. Done with your friend?”
