“That’s what I thought.” I chuckle into her center, blowing cool air on the flesh I wet with my tongue, and she squirms.
After only the short time we’ve been together, I know what gets her off. She loves clit play, so I flex my tongue, using only the tip to lick tiny circles around her nub. Her hands go to her sides, gripping the sheets. At least my right hand can widen her, putting light pressure right under her clit, and her back arches off the bed.
I fucking love watching her get off.
The more pressure I use, the more she grinds against my face. My name comes from her mouth, along with praise of how great I am at this, how she never wants me to stop. I watch her chase her orgasm on my tongue, and my dick grows thick and aching between my legs.
I ramp up the speed a touch more. One of her hands grabs my hair, pulling and tugging, as her breathing labors. She’s so close, so I up the speed until she unapologetically grinds my face into her pussy. She crests over that threshold and falls back down on her back.
It takes some awkward effort on my part but I remove her legs from my shoulders, ditch my track pants, and nudge her legs open. Her eyes perk up when she feels the tip of my dick at her opening. But she presses her hand to my chest.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she says, pushing me to sit up.
I sit back on my knees. “What?”
She grabs the bowl of frosting and swipes a smear across my chest. “I get to play too.” Her gaze dips to my very erect cock.
I sit back. “By all means.”
Her tongue slides along my chest, teasing my nipples. My eyes close, relishing her mouth, until she palms me, rubbing and pulling, her thumb spreading the pre-cum along the tip of my dick. As she slides off the bed and falls to her knees like I did, she urges me to the edge of the mattress. With one hand on the base of my cock, she lowers her mouth, and stars fill my vision.
Damn, is there anything Rian isn’t good at? She really is a certified genius.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rian
As I stare at my computer and read the message again, tears well up in my eyes.
“‘Congratulations, you’re the winner. Your check will be issued next week, and your name will be listed in our academic journal next month. Great job, everyone at the association is very impressed. Sincerely, Dr. Giroux, President of the Mathematics Association of America.’” I read the email out loud, still processing that I actually did it.
Jax walks out of his bedroom, spots me, and freezes. “Shit.” He turns to go back but then faces me again. “Where’s Phillips?”
“He’s asleep,” I say.
“In which bedroom?” His gaze flickers to Dylan’s door, then mine.
“Mine,” I say, not understanding what’s wrong with him.
“Thank fuck.” He walks through the living room to the bathroom and shuts the door.
Odd.
I minimize the email, seeing three from my dad waiting in my inbox. Apologies for what he said mostly. I should print out the congratulatory email and go to their house and tape it to every available surface. Maybe then they’d be proud of me. But a part of me doesn’t want anyone to know I won.
My phone rings and I jump in my seat.
My eyes zero in on the name. Johann must’ve gotten word that the problem was solved and the contest closed. Ever since that day I was going to ask him for help and Dylan talked me out of it, he hasn’t contacted me. Which suits me fine.
My phone beeps that he left a message, then an email from him pings on my computer. He’s probably upset that the contest has been closed and is wondering if I’m the one who solved it.
The bathroom door opens and Jax walks out in a towel. “So you’re still together?”
“Yes,” I say.
He nods. “Cool.” He disappears into his bedroom.
What is up with him?
I look at the box of tissues next to my computer. He thought I was crying over Dylan?
I shut down my computer, walk into my bedroom, and set my phone on the nightstand, then I slide under the covers with Dylan. He stirs, sighs, and wraps his arm around my body.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead.
I run my hand down his chest. “Good morning.”
I lay with him as he falls in and out of sleep. Peeking up, I cast small kisses to his chest.
“I won,” I whisper.
He bolts up and my body falls to the mattress. Looking at me, his eyes widen. “You did?”
I nod.
Then his body is on top of mine “Congratulations! That’s awesome.”
I nod again but the tears well up even more this time and my throat constricts.
He stares at me in confusion. “Why are you crying?”
I sit up and rest my back on the headboard, shrugging because I have no idea why I’m crying.
Sitting next to me, he pulls me into him. “This is a good thing. A happy moment. You should be on cloud nine.”
My tears run down his chest while my fingers follow an intricate tattoo on his thigh. Maybe it’s because Dylan and I were friends before we got together, or maybe because Dylan is kind of a private person, but we rarely ever talk about our feelings other than toward one another. I’m not sure how he’ll take me opening my heart and laying all my problems out in front of him. This might not be what he signed up for.
“Talk to me,” he says.
I sigh. “I’m happy. But I’m upset too. I did it as a big FU to my parents, but I never thought I’d feel this good about doing it.”
“Then why the crying?”
I sit up on my knees and face him. “When my parents find out, they’re going to be so happy. Like I made their world.”
“They are your parents,” he says, but he doesn’t understand.
“All I’ve ever done is disappoint them. No matter all the great things I’ve accomplished, it’s never been enough. I think I’m upset because I did this to prove to them I could do it, but all that will happen now is they’ll demand more. When will it stop? When will it ever be enough just to be their daughter?”
He takes my hands. “I know you did this for them, but be happy for yourself. And do what you want with that twenty-five grand. I’m not joking that I think you should open a bakery. But do what you want to do. Your parents will always be your parents. I don’t have a lot of experiences with parents, but at some point, you have to stop looking for their praise.”
“I’m not looking for their praise,” I say, sitting down and loosening my hands to lay limp in my lap.
“Truth is, you kind of are. You might’ve done it with a middle finger, but you did it to prove to them you’re smart.”
I narrow my eyes. So much for him understanding. “That’s not true.”
My phone rings with my parents’ ringtone.
He brings his knees up to his chest. “They’re going to find out, and you’re right, they’re going to expect more from you. The question is how important is it to you?” His phone goes off on the nightstand and he slides out of bed. Staring at the name, he silences it. “I don’t say it to be mean, but you chase their approval. Except for me, I imagine. They probably don’t know we’re dating, right?”