Chapter 23 Wouldn’t want anything left wet #2
The filth of it slams through me. His tongue is ruthless, his finger pushing deeper into my ass, and I snap.
Coming hard, grinding down on his face as my orgasm rips through me, hot and messy and loud.
My thighs shake, my walls clench around his tongue, and the wet rush of it coats his mouth as I cry out, broken.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice muffled by my pussy. “You taste so good, dripping all over me.”
Another moan tears out of me around his cock, vibrating all the way down, and that’s what ruins him. He bucks up hard, cock jerking as he comes hot and thick, filling my throat.
We’re both moaning into each other, gyrating desperately—me grinding on his face, him thrusting up into my mouth—until every last pulse is wrung out of us and I’m collapsing forward.
We tumble sideways together, sweaty, gasping, and every nerve buzzing.
“Lesson,” he breathes, wiping a hand over his face, “fucking mastered.”
My laugh is dizzy and trembling as I press a kiss to his thigh. “Gold star?”
His arm hooks around me, turning to pull me flush against his chest, as wet, shaky lips brush my ear. “Whole damn honor roll.”
The knock comes sharp and sudden, rattling the door downstairs.
I freeze, Logan freezes, and my stomach plummets.
“Fuck,” he mutters, already hauling himself off the bed. “Who the hell—”
The front door latch turns, and we hear footsteps downstairs in the entryway.
“Lulu?”
Eli.
Panic spikes. I bolt upright, grabbing the nearest thing—my robe from the back of the door—and cinch it so tight, it nearly cuts off my breath. Logan’s still naked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair a disaster.
“Closet,” I hiss.
He stares like I’ve lost my mind. “Closet?”
There’s more movement downstairs, a woman’s murmuring voice. Tamara.
“Now!” I shove at his chest until he stumbles into my walk-in. He mutters curses under his breath, but the second I shut the door behind him, I’m sprinting downstairs, trying to smooth my robe like I haven’t just been face-sitting my brother’s teammate.
“Hi!” I rush to the landing.
Tamara’s smile is warm but sharp, eyes skating immediately over my messy hair and flushed face. “Hey. We were just passing by, figured we’d check in.”
Eli leans in as I descend the last few steps, giving me a one-armed hug as I dodge a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, thought we’d swing by, check the house, say hi. You look… uh…” He squints at me. “Were you about to shower?”
“Yes!” The word flies out too fast and I tug my robe tighter. “Exactly that. Shower. Post-work cleanse, you know.”
Tamara’s brows tick up, but she doesn’t say a word.
Eli steps into the living room, glancing around. “Place looks dry. You haven’t had any more flooding, right?”
“Nope. All good. Totally dry. Zero floods.” My laugh is manic. I’m going to combust.
He squints at the living room carpet. “No wet patches?”
I choke so violently that Tamara has to thump me on the back. “N-none. Not a single one. Everything’s… bone dry.” My face is on fire.
Eli nods, satisfied. “Good. Wouldn’t want anything left wet.”
If there’s a god, he’s laughing at me right now.
He wanders further in, chatting about what he wants to have for dinner, while Tamara drifts toward the kitchen. My belly flips when I see where she’s headed.
The fucking jar.
It’s still on the counter, Post-its glowing like a goddamn neon sign. Worse, Logan’s hot pink note, the one he’d been holding before he hauled me upstairs, is lying right there, unfolded.
Tamara pauses, fingertips brushing the paper. She glances down, reads it, and her mouth curves into a slow and knowing grin.
Her eyes snap to me.
I shake my head violently, mouthing silently to her. Don’t.
She just lifts her brows and slides the note back under the jar quietly, while Eli calls from the living room, “So how was Career Day? Did Hutchy say more than one word at a time?”
“Totally fine!” My voice jumps an octave. “Kids loved it. Absolutely no trauma of any kind.”
“Good,” Eli says, distracted as he peers out the window. “Man, Betty’s got a sweet Halloween display. Whole street’s gonna be chaos.”
I latch onto the topic like a lifeline, babbling about decorations until Eli finally claps his hands together. “Alright, I’m thinking sushi. You wanna come, Lu?”
I’ve already done that. On Logan’s face. Ten minutes ago.
“I’m good, thanks!” My voice is shrill as I move to the front door and hold it open. “Shower. Definitely need that, uh, shower.”
Eli nods and says his goodbyes before walking out onto the porch, heading for the car. Tamara lingers just long enough to kiss my cheek, her whisper silk and smoke. “Hope whoever’s upstairs just got the best head ever.”
The second the door clicks shut, I press my forehead to it, praying for a quick death. Upstairs, there’s a muffled thump from the closet, followed by a low curse.
I spin, racing back up the stairs. Logan’s already out of the walk-in by the time I reach the bedroom, yanking on his jeans.
“That,” he mutters, “was a fucking nightmare.”
“You think?” My voice is sharp, but my pulse is still rattling. “If Eli had come upstairs—”
“He didn’t.” Logan pulls his hoodie on, jaw working. “But he could’ve.”
“It’s already worse than you think.”
His eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“Tamara…” I swallow, robe cinched so tight it digs into my ribs. “She saw the jar. And the note we left on the counter.”
For a beat, he just stares at me. Then his mouth curves slowly. “The best head ever note?”
I cover my face with both hands. “Oh my god, stop saying it out loud.”
“She read it?” He sounds halfway between horrified and smug.
“She whispered it to me on the way out.” My voice is muffled through my palms as I imitate her voice. “‘Hope whoever’s upstairs just got the best head ever.’”
Logan chokes, shoulders shaking like he might actually laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Exactly.” I peek at him through my fingers.
He sighs. “We’ve just gotta be smarter about this, Lu. We can’t risk being caught like that.”
The sting in my chest surprises me, sharper than I expect. Would it really be such a bad thing to just be honest about us? Instead, I force a laugh that wobbles at the edges. “Right. We just… need to be more careful.”
“Yeah.” His voice goes softer as he watches me. “Because if he ever catches us—” He shakes his head, shoving a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not letting it end with me losing you.”
The words hang between us, heavy and terrifying and too much like a confession. I swallow hard, nodding again, because I don’t trust my voice.
He steps past me, zipping his fly. “I’ll head out now. Coast’s clear.”
“Okay.”
I walk him downstairs and open the front door. He steps out, glances back once with a small smile, then turns toward his house. My chest aches, already missing him the second he leaves.
Before I can close the door though, the handle jerks, and he’s back, pushing me against the wall with his mouth on mine, fierce and hungry. His body cages me in, thigh pressing between mine, one big hand braced on the wall, the other gently on my throat.
The kiss steals my breath, hot and possessive until I’m dizzy, and I clutch at his shirt just to stay upright.
When he finally tears himself back, my chest is heaving, lips tingling.
His grin is sinful. “Thanks for the best head ever, baby.”
Then he saunters out, door clicking shut behind him, leaving me flushed and trembling against the wall.