Chapter 23 Wouldn’t want anything left wet
Chapter twenty-three
Wouldn’t want anything left wet
Lulu
By the time I kick off my boots and step into the living room, the house already looks like Party City exploded.
Plastic pumpkins, paper bats, a string of orange lights across the mantel.
Half my class swore up and down that if I didn’t decorate soon, it was basically teacher malpractice.
And honestly, they’re right. So I pulled everything I had out of storage last night, and plan to organize it tonight while sipping a very well-earned glass of wine.
I drop my bag, flop onto the couch, and let the faint scent of cinnamon candles settle the edges of my nerves. Career Day was chaos in its purest form. Hilarious, mortifying, heart-bursting chaos.
My phone buzzes.
Logan: Career Day survivor support group. Meeting of two.
I snort, thumbs already moving.
Me: You looked like you were having the time of your life while Hutchy battled his mortal enemy.
Logan: He said after that the turtle had murder in its eyes.
Me: Yurtle is an angel.
Logan: You say the same thing about Miso, and she actively tries to kill me every time she sees me.
Me: Maybe she just has excellent taste.
There’s a pause before his reply.
Logan: Can’t argue with that, when I know exactly how you taste.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will stop the laugh that bursts out of me. Before I can fire something back or finish pouring my wine, a knock rattles the door.
He’s there, leaning on the frame when I pull the door open, hands shoved into his hoodie, all broad shoulders and messy hair.
“Thought we agreed this was a support group,” I say, crossing my arms. “Not a house call.”
His gaze sweeps over my shoulder, and his mouth tips. “Jesus, Parnell. Did Halloween throw up in here?”
I glance back at the living room. “It’s called seasonal spirit.”
“It’s called a fire hazard.” He steps inside anyway, toeing at a plastic skeleton sprawled on the rug. “My place has none of this.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I mutter. “You probably don’t even own candles, let alone cobweb garlands.”
That earns me the faintest grin. “You offering to fix it?”
“Obviously. Betty said there’s a whole street party this year. If you show up undecorated, you’ll be ostracized.”
“I’m not scared of Betty.”
“She also said she’s dressing up as a ‘sexy witch,’ so… you’ve been warned.”
“Okay,” he groans. “That scares me.”
I pad into the kitchen, heading back toward my wine as he follows. He leans against the counter, watching me pull a glass down and offer him one. He shakes his head, glancing around at the rest of the Halloween carnage.
“Chase has been on about organizing some group costume thing,” he says. “Doesn’t want to do couples, apparently.”
I choke on a laugh. “Group costume. As in, the team?”
“Yeah, he’s been researching ideas, says it needs to be iconic.”
“Hmm, tricky. Couples costumes are easier—you only have to come up with half an idea. Very efficient.”
His mouth tips slowly. “An efficient couple’s costume would be you in no clothing at all.”
I shake my head, grinning. “You’re disgusting.”
The laugh that rumbles out of him is warm and real, curling through me. He’s still grinning when his eyes snag on the counter, and he stills.
“No way.”
My breath catches as I turn and see what he’s seen. “Don’t.”
I dart forward, but he’s faster, one big hand closing around the jar before I can snatch it. His eyes jerk back to mine, sharp with amusement. I’d meant to hide it before school, and now the neon Post-its glare back at me from every angle.
“You actually did it,” he says, shaking it once so the notes flutter like confetti. His mouth curves, slow and disbelieving. “You told me you had a sexy lessons jar, but I thought you were screwing with me.”
“I don’t screw around about lesson plans,” I say primly, trying to tug it out of his hands. “I’m a teacher.”
He lifts it higher, out of reach. “Wow, you’re serious.”
“Of course I’m serious.”
He fishes out a hot pink note, unfolds it slowly, eyes scanning. Then his brows lift. “Well.”
“Logan.” My voice comes out in warning as I reach again, but he pulls his arm back, keeping it out of reach. “Put it back.
“Giving the best head ever,” he reads aloud, voice low enough to curl around every syllable.
“Put. It. Back.”
He looks up, gaze dark and edged with a grin. “Did you write this and really want to, or was this a group brainstorm with the girls?”
Heat hits me in a wave, but I square my shoulders. “They don’t know about the jar. It’s just something I want… to do.”
“Give the best head ever?”
I nod.
“Yes?” His voice is all gravel now, eyes dark and burning into mine.
“Yes.” I lift my chin, pulse ricocheting. “It’s a skill. And I like being good at things.”
For a beat, there’s silence, then he huffs out a laugh, rough enough it sounds torn out of him. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” I say sweetly, even though my whole body is thrumming. “Now gimme the jar.”
He steps closer, holding the note between his fingers in front of me, gaze dropping to my mouth. “You really wanna do this one, Parnell?”
I can’t help the smile that curves my lips. “Lesson plans aren’t meant to gather dust.”
His jaw flexes, restraint hanging by a thread. “Upstairs. Now.”
We barely make it to my room before Logan’s kissing me, trying to strip at the same time. Hoodie gone, T-shirt yanked over his head, jeans shoved down strong thighs, no time for patience. I kick my skirt and blouse to the floor, bra snapped off, panties tugged down in a trail I almost trip over.
By the time I turn, he’s already sitting at the edge of my bed, cock thick and hard, starved eyes on me.
“On your knees, Parnell.”
Heat streaks through me, my thighs clenching as I sink down between his legs. His hand cups the back of my neck, guiding me but not forcing.
“Lesson Five… best head ever.” His smirk is pure sin. “Show me.”
I wrap my hand around him first, stroking slowly, then lean in and lick from base to tip, tasting salt and heat. His groan cracks out, rough and immediate.
“Fuck, Lulu.” His head sinks backwards. “Open wider. Let me see you take it.”
I do, lips sliding over the head, tongue swirling, hollowing my cheeks as I push deeper.
“Yeah, that’s it.” His voice goes thick, one big hand tangling in my hair. “Good girl. Breathe through your nose. Fuck, you look pretty with my cock down your throat.”
I moan around him, and the sound makes his thighs flex hard under my palms.
“God, don’t stop.” His grip tightens, holding on as if he’s trying to keep himself grounded. “You’re already so good at this. Don’t need a fucking jar to tell me that.”
I pull off with a wet pop, grinning up at him, my lips swollen. “But I like being the best.”
His laugh is coarse, torn from deep in his chest. “Congratulations, lesson passed.”
I swallow him again, deeper this time, until he hits the back of my throat. He shouts a curse, his hips twitching, and his hand fists tighter in my hair.
“That’s it, baby. Take me. Fuck, you feel like heaven. My smart girl with her mouth so full of cock.”
His words make me ache, wetness pooling between my thighs. I hum around him, and his hips jerk again.
“Fuuuck—do that again.”
I do, and he almost loses it, groaning loud, body shuddering.
“Shit, okay,” he rasps, tugging lightly at my hair until I glance up. His eyes are molten, chest heaving. “Before I embarrass myself like a rookie, get up here.”
I blink, dazed. “What?”
His grin is feral. “Sixty-nine. You wanna give the best head ever? You’re getting mine too.”
My body clenches at the words. I crawl up the bed, and he flips us so fast I’m gasping, suddenly straddling his head while his cock juts hard and wet in front of me.
“Ride my face,” he orders, voice muffled by my thighs. “And don’t you dare hold back.”
Then his mouth is on me—tongue dragging through me, hot and ruthless—and I nearly collapse.
I bend forward, taking him back into my mouth. He groans into me instantly, the vibration shooting straight through my clit, making me moan around his cock.
“Holy fuck.” He gasps, hips jerking. “Yes, baby, hum on me while I eat you out.”
I do, and his answering groan nearly makes me choke.
“God, that’s it. My perfect girl, sucking me so deep while I’ve got my tongue in this sweet pussy. You like that?”
“Yes.” I gasp around him, then swallow him back down.
He slides a finger inside me slowly, curling until my hips twitch. Then he spreads my ass cheek with the other hand, teasing over my tight hole, pressing in just enough to make my whole body jolt.
The noise that tears out of me is guttural, helpless, vibrating straight down his cock.
His responding growl is immediate, muffled by my thighs. “Oh, fuck, there it is. Look at you—soaked the second I touch your ass. You love getting your pussy tongue-fucked while I press right here, don’t you?”
I whimper around him, throat tightening as my body betrays me, clenching on his tongue and sucking him deeper at the same time.
“Yes, baby,” he breathes, thrusting his tongue harder against my clit as his finger presses firmer. “You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, dripping all over my face. You get so goddamn wet when I play with your ass.”
I try to answer, but all that comes out is another wrecked moan, thick and hot around his cock.
“Fuck, Lu.” His hips buck, ragged curses muffled by my thighs. “You’re gonna make me come.”
“Good,” I pant, pulling back to breathe before taking him again, my saliva dripping down his length. “I want you to come down my throat.”
His tongue flicks faster, relentless against my clit while his finger thrusts in deeper, and I lose the rhythm, grinding down on his face, chasing it shamelessly.
“I’m—” The words tear out of me, choked around his cock. I force myself off him just long enough to gasp out, “I’m so close—I’m—” My voice breaks, high and needy. “I’m gonna come.”
Logan rumbles against my clit. “Yes, baby, do it. Come on my tongue. I’m seconds from blowing down your throat.”