Chapter 24: Fucking Caroline
Logan’s fingers worked the remaining buttons of Caroline’s shirt with deliberate patience, each one popping free under the pressure of his thumbs.
The fabric parted slowly, revealing the soft swell of her full breasts straining against a simple white lace bra that did little to contain them. He didn’t rush to free them.
Instead he let his palms glide up the outside of her thighs, feeling the residual slickness still clinging to her skin, then higher until his thumbs pressed into the soft crease where thigh met hip.
Caroline’s head remained tipped back, lips parted, soft sounds escaping every time his thumbs stroked inward.
The cupboard edge dug lightly into the backs of her thighs, but she made no move to close her legs. Logan leaned in, mouth brushing the damp hollow of her throat as he spoke against her skin.
"Look at me."
She did. Her eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide. The tenfold amplification of the Perverted Hands skill had already turned every touch into something that bordered on overwhelming.
A simple stroke along her inner thigh made her hips twitch. When he finally hooked his fingers under the cups of her bra and tugged the lace downward, her breasts spilled free—heavy, warm, nipples already tight and dark. He cupped them both, thumbs circling the peaks in slow, firm spirals.
Caroline’s back arched, a broken moan slipping free.
"Logan... someone could—"
"Brandon’s out getting ingredients," he murmured, voice low and steady. "You said so yourself. Door’s still open, though." He gave her nipples a gentle pinch that made her gasp. "We should fix that."
He didn’t leave her on the cupboard. Instead he slid an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.
Caroline’s arms went around his neck by instinct, bare breasts pressing against the thin fabric of his basketball jersey. Her wetness soaked a dark patch against his hip as he carried her out of the kitchen.
The living room was quiet..morning light filtered through half-drawn curtains. Logan walked straight to the front door, still holding her, and nudged it shut with his foot.
The soft click of the latch locking sounded louder than it should have in the silence. He turned the deadbolt for good measure, then carried her deeper into the house.
Caroline’s breath trembled against his neck. "We shouldn’t... this is—"
"Too late for that," he said, already moving down the short hallway toward the bedroom she shared with no one else.
The door stood ajar. He shouldered it open, stepped inside, and kicked it closed behind them. Another soft lock.
The room smelled faintly of her perfume and clean sheets. A wide bed dominated the space, white duvet still neatly made.
Logan set her down on the edge of the mattress. Her skirt was still rucked around her waist, shirt hanging open, bra pushed beneath her breasts.
She looked wrecked already—cheeks flushed, thighs shiny, chest rising and falling too fast. He stood between her spread knees and peeled his jersey off in one motion, tossing it aside.
The hard lines of his torso caught the light. Caroline’s gaze dropped to the thick outline straining against his shorts, and her tongue flicked across her lower lip without her seeming to notice.
He didn’t undress further yet. Instead he sank to his knees on the carpet in front of her, hands sliding up the outsides of her thighs again.
The Perverted Hands skill hummed under his skin. When his thumbs parted her folds she jerked as if he’d touched a live wire. She was still soaked, still swollen, still leaking slowly onto the edge of the duvet.
"Stay open for me," he said quietly.
Caroline’s hands curled into the sheets. Logan leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue from her entrance all the way up to her clit in one long, slow stroke.
The sound she made was half sob, half moan. He did it again, slower, savoring the taste of her, then sealed his mouth over the sensitive peak and sucked with steady, rhythmic pressure.
His fingers—two of them—slid into her at the same time, curling upward, pressing firmly against the soft spot inside that made her thighs shake.
The skill multiplied every sensation. What should have been simple oral pleasure became something closer to overload. Caroline’s hips rolled against his face, chasing more. Soft, broken pleas spilled from her lips—his name, little curses, half-formed sentences that dissolved into gasps. Logan kept the pace mercilessly steady: tongue circling, fingers thrusting in a slow, deep rhythm that never quite gave her enough to tip over.
Every time her breathing hitched toward climax he eased off just enough to keep her hovering, trembling on the edge.
Only when her thighs began to tremble uncontrollably did he pull back. Her juices shone on his chin and lower lip. He stood, pushed his shorts and briefs down in one motion, and stepped free of them.
His cock sprang up heavy and flushed, the head already glistening. Caroline’s eyes locked on it. Her legs stayed spread, invitation clear even if her voice still tried for protest.
"Logan, wait—we can’t just—"
He guided the thick head between her folds, rubbing slowly up and down, coating himself in her wetness. The heat of her made his jaw tighten. When he finally pressed forward the stretch was immediate and intense.
Caroline’s head fell back, a long, low moan tearing free as inch after thick inch sank into her. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the root, hips flush against hers, balls resting against the soft curve of her ass.
They stayed like that for several heartbeats, both breathing hard.
Logan could feel every flutter of her inner walls around him, the way the skill amplified the sensation until it bordered on too much even for him. He leaned over her, bracing one hand beside her head, the other sliding under her lower back to tilt her hips higher.
"Look at me while I fuck you," he said, voice rough.
Caroline’s eyes met his. Logan drew back slowly—almost all the way out—then thrust in deep and hard. The wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the quiet room. He set a steady, powerful rhythm, each stroke long and deliberate, the thick ridge of his cock dragging against every sensitive place inside her.
Caroline’s breasts swayed with every impact. Soft, rhythmic cries left her throat. Her hands came up to grip his forearms, nails biting lightly into skin.