Logan Chapter 17

-Emory-

I give Logan my most dazzling smile. He wasn’t the only one to forget, after all. “I’m so glad. You know what else I’m glad about?” Time to lighten the mood a little, I can tell he’s nervous- probably waiting for me to actually freak out on him. I’m not sure I could be mad at him for anything right now, though. I’ve never come that hard in my life, let alone twice… no, three times. I’ve been finishing myself during every encounter I’ve ever had. I’ve been thinking this whole time that I’ve just had a complicated vagina.

“What are you glad of?” He asks with a crooked grin. Ugh, adorable.

“I’m glad we just burned off that huge meal. I was going to be doing cardio for days to make up for that gumbo. I am a little thirsty now, though.” As I come down from the sex high as well as the stress of my freak out, I finally realize how sweaty and messy I am. Maybe a shower is a better amount of water for me than a glass right now. I crinkle my nose at the feeling of sweat in my hair. “Though maybe a shower should come first”

“Luckily, the next part of my plan was hydration. Come on, little rose. Let's top off and then we can get clean”

I follow Logan through his beautiful but sterile penthouse to the kitchen. I have so many ideas for decorating this place- it looks like he picked a generic package and ran with it. He must not know anybody else in the design wing. “Who did your decor here, Logan? It’s very…”

“Soulless?” He asks with amusement. “Yeah, I just have this place for when things go too long at the office, or I need to host people that I don’t want around my family. Think of it as one step better than a cot in the office.” That makes more sense. I don’t want to admit to myself the relief I feel as I realize this place wasn’t meant to reflect him at all. Now, though, I have this raging curiosity about what his actual place looks like. “If you speculate any harder, Emory, your brain will set off my smoke alarms. I know you’re all over the design choices here. Most of it was included with the rental of the penthouse- I just told them to leave everything they used to stage it. My actual home is much… homier. We call it the pack house, because multiple families live there.”

“You all seem to have a wolf theme going on. What’s the story behind that?” I think back on our prior interactions- ‘pack house,’ he mentioned them living like a ‘wolf pack,’ and even Nanette mentioned the boys running around as a pack. How am I just now picking up on how strange that was?

“It’s… just always been like that, since I could remember. The same families have lived together for generations. Every now and then someone will relocate, but it’s mostly the same hundred or so families that have always been there. I guess we’ve… made our own culture.” Curiously, Logan seems to deflate as he says the last. Like maybe he thinks they’re stuck in the past? But he speaks so fondly of them, and Nanette didn’t seem that way at all. That’s also a lot more people than I was thinking when he described the community to me. If he’s saying families, that’s got to be three to four hundred people at the very least. What could have made them isolate with each other like that so close to such a big city? I can see where a particular culture would crop up in a group as close-knit as he was talking about, though.

“Wow, that’s… how far did you say you were from the city? Your commute must be hellish if you’re driving in and out from suburbia every day. I guess you use this penthouse most of the week, then? You really should get it decorated to your tastes, Logan. I might even consider giving you a discount, if you ask nicely.” I tease, trying not to giggle as he leers at me.

“Not too far. We live just on the other side of Central Park. I suppose we’ve just resisted assimilation into the city. Usually I run through the park home in the evenings. It’s a nice way to wind down at the end of the day before I’m expected to deal with my brother.” There’s a method I never tried- maybe if I went on more runs as a kid and teenager, I wouldn’t have fought as much with my siblings- I’d certainly be thinner. Logan laughs when I tell him so, then sets me on the counter.

“Fuck, Logan! I can’t believe you put my naked ass on your marble countertops! Not only is it absolutely freezing-” I say, shivering as I try to maneuver around him to hop back down “but it’s incredibly unsanitary! Didn’t you say you entertain here?” I try and fail three times to get down before I finally give up. Logan is standing between my legs and shows no signs of moving. I try not to blush all over again as I can feel myself… leaking.

“This is where I prepare all my meals while I stay here- why would your sweet pussy be any different? Damn, I’m going to miss the look of my come leaking out of you while we use condoms. Maybe I’ll have to glaze you every now and then.” He pauses a moment, staring at my… nether regions, until I shift and try to pull my legs together. I never expected anyone to be so fascinated with looking at all my most private parts. It was never something I thought about my comfort in one way or another. My fidgeting shakes Logan out of his hypnosis, and he shakes his head before grabbing two cups out of the cabinet beside my head and filling them up from a water filter attached to the sink. “Are you uncomfortable with me looking at you, Emory? Don’t you know how beautiful you are? How pretty your pussy is? I could stare at it all day, if it wasn’t so tempting to eat and fuck and generally play with.”

I feel the blush on my face deepen and travel down my chest. “I haven’t thought of it like that at all, honestly. It just looks like private parts. I suppose it makes sense for you to find them attractive, but I… guess I don’t.” I take a huge, lingering drink from my water- both to give myself something to look at besides wherever Logan is looking, and to try and cool down my super-heated cheeks. I suppose the heat of the cheeks on my face make up for the chill of the set down below. When I finally emerge, I find Logan looking quizzically at my face. On one hand, it’s a relief, but on the other, he probably saw every emotion playing out around the water glass.

“Emory. Say the word pussy to me. No-” Logan palms my cheeks and puts one thumb over my mouth before I can shake my head or reply. “I want you to say the word cunt. Let me see that sweet mouth say something dirty. Say it one time for me- cunt.” He traces my bottom lip with his thumb before using it to tilt my chin back so I’ll look him in the eyes. Oh, shit. How did he know how hard this would be for me? I’m perfectly fine saying damn or shit, even fuck if the situation warrants it. I just grew up learning that there are things not mentioned in mixed company, and ladies don’t talk about private parts at all in the presence of men. Old fashioned, I know, but that kind of conditioning can be hard to break.

“Logan, I…” He jokingly pokes out his lower lip, giving me a big-eyed pout at the refusal in my voice. I sigh and give in. This is setting a bad precedent, but “... fine. Cunt.”