After that, Teddy doesn’t talk, only making sounds from the back of her throat. Sounds like appreciation and pleasure—the same ones I’m making, because I have no self-control left.
Both my hands clutch at the pillow under my head, fisting it while Teddy plays with my cock and balls, and I’m so hard I want to come now.
It won’t take me long when—if—she finally puts me in her mouth. It’ll be the world’s shortest blowjob, done and over within minutes, I fucking know it.
My hips buck when she licks it, testing the feel of it on her tongue. I blow out a puff of pent-up breath, my lungs contracting more rapidly by the second.
It sounds like I can’t catch my breath.
I sound like I’m…
About to beg her to, “Suck it. God, please put it in your mouth. Please.”
New to the game but still a woman with wiles, Teddy cocks an eyebrow, an air of triumph on her face. She knows she is in control and she likes it.
“You want me to suck it?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to…put this in my mouth?” She licks it again.
My mouth forms the word yes, but no sounds actually leave my lips.
My balls throb.
My chest burns.
And when she takes my dick and puts it between her lips, my entire body clenches from the pleasure of it.
Jesus, it’s been so long since anyone has blown me, I’d almost forgotten how good it feels. How much I enjoy the sight of a woman’s head down by my pelvis and the view of just the top of her head as she bobs it up and down.
My fingers grip the pillow tighter so I don’t reach for Teddy’s hair, yank it a little like I want to—that might scare the shit out of her—or push her head down so I impale her mouth.
Mouth.
Hand.
Lips. Tongue.
All of them working together, and goddamn if it isn’t perfect.
***
“Kip?”
“Hmm?” I trace her belly button with my forefinger, round and round and round. The same belly button I licked with my tongue an hour ago before spreading her legs and eating her out.
Mmm mmm good. My new favorite meal.
“There was something I wanted to ask you—feel free to say no.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of this something, is it?”
“Sorry. I’m not good at asking people for favors.”
Favors.
I brace myself, waiting for her to want what all the girls before her wanted: Kip, babe, can I borrow some cash? Kip, can you get us tickets to a concert? Kip, can we go to St. Bart’s for spring break and stay at your parents’ beach house?
My “What?” comes out clipped and shorter than I planned—but damn, I wish she’d just spit the request out already so I can say no, shove her out of my bed, and never see her again.
“I have this dinner—a banquet next weekend, and, um…I’m receiving that grant I was telling you about?”
The stiff muscles in my body relax a fraction. “Yeah?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.” Teddy clears her throat. “I bought two tickets.”
She bought two tickets.
I twist my torso, pulling her in. Relief flooding my body. “You want me to be your date for a banquet?”
“It’s a fundraiser for the engineering department, but…I mean, yes—only if you’re not doing anything Saturday night.”
I do have a match that day, but it’s early, and I’d have plenty of time to take her to a banquet.
“I’m free Saturday night.”
“So you can go?”
“I can go.” In fact, I’d love to.
***
Me: So I kind of have a problem.
Ronnie: I KNEW IT! I knew you had a small penis—I’ve told everyone and they never believe me ’cause you’re so tall.
Me: Would you be serious for one second?
Ronnie: Oh crap—you’re being serious? Well shit. Okay—go. What do you need?
Me: Remember Teddy?
Ronnie: Obviously. I’ve even been creeping on her on social media. You’re welcome, by the way, for my superior stalking skills
Me: FOR WHAT??
Ronnie: I had to make sure she was normal—I also looked up her court records too, just in case things with the two of you took a turn for the best.
Me: You are unbelievable.
Ronnie: So did they? Take a turn for the best, or the worst?
Me: She asked me to a thing. A benefit.
Ronnie: A benefit??? Ugh, SOCIAL CLIMBER. I freaking KNEW IT!!!!! Run. RUN KIPLING!
Me: Knock it off, it’s not that kind of benefit. It’s for the engineering department, she’s receiving a grant.
Ronnie: Oh. Well, don’t I feel foolish **awkward laugh** You were saying?
Me: My question is, what do I do? Do I buy a suit or what? It’s on campus, so it’s not formal, but I still think I should look nice, but I don’t have anything dressy with me here.
Ronnie: Do you at least have a polo shirt or something?
Me: Yeah, I think so.
Ronnie: There’s your answer then. Wear that, trim that beard up, and do something with your hair, and you won’t have to go buy anything.
Me: You think I should shave?
Ronnie: Uhhhh, I mean…only if you want to. You only just met the girl, and it’s taken you two years to grow that monstrosity. BUT…
Me: But?
Ronnie: It would be a huge gesture. If you like her.
Me: So I should shave, and wear a polo shirt, and not worry about a suit.
Ronnie: Right.
Me: Okay. I can manage that.
Ronnie: Wait—you’re seriously going to shave??? Holy shit.
Ronnie: You LIKE THIS GIRL?????? For real. No bullshitting.
Me: Have you been listening to a thing I said?
Ronnie: You have said NOTHING. You’ve had her over TWICE and you’ve hung out on Fridays and THAT IS ALL YOU’VE GIVEN ME. You throw NO BONES.
Me: Yes, I fucking like her.
Ronnie: Mom is going to freak. You know that, right?
Me: Mom isn’t going to find out yet, VERONICA.
Ronnie: Fine…but when it’s time to tell her, I get to leak the information. Deal?
Me: Deal.
THIRD SATURDAY
“She cleans up nice and makes me want to bang her.”
Teddy
“What’s with the dress?” Mariah is leaned against the door to the bathroom, studying my reflection in the mirror as I apply another coat of mascara.
Makeup I’d asked her to help me with an hour ago.
She said she was too busy, yet here she is, standing there in yoga pants, hair tossed up into a messy top knot, clearly not doing anything productive.
She could have helped me.
“I have that banquet tonight. The one where I’m receiving my grant.”
“A scholarship thing?” I can see her eyes roaming up and down my back. “It looks like you have date.”
I draw in a breath, not sure how much I want to tell her about Kip, or how she’ll react. She knows nothing; not since the night she whispered in his ear and propositioned him.
He still hasn’t told me what she said, but what else could it possibly have been?
“It’s a bit of both, I guess?”
“Are you going with someone?” She’s interested now, studying her nails in that way she does when she’s pretending not to care. Feigning disinterest when she’s insatiably curious.
It’s such a bitchy thing to do.
Why can’t she be happy for me?
“Yes. I’m going with someone.” I purposely omit details, knowing it’s going to drive her crazy not knowing who my date it.
One of her hand flops over, wrist holding it out. “Well? Are you going to tell me who it is, or what?”
“You know Kip Carmichael?”
“Yes.”
“He’s taking me.” Or I’m taking him. Whichever.
“Sasquatch is your date?”
“Yes.”
If sarcasm could form a laugh, Mariah pulls it off. “A guy named Sasquatch is taking you to your engineering banquet. Nice one, Teddy. Way to raise your expectations.”
The applicator wand of black mascara pauses over my lashes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”