Chapter 21 Dylan #2
I shake my head. “First, you’re going to have an orgasm.” I lean in, keeping my eyes on hers. I kiss her thighs and work my way up. When my tongue lands on her warm clit, I lick it until her legs are clenching my face and she’s panting.
“Remember what I said before?” I tease, licking her. “You need to know what you like.”
She leans up. “About that––”
I fuck her with my tongue and start doing moves I didn’t know I was capable of, but she falls back onto the couch, clutching the cushion under her.
She leans back up and moans, “Rate how I did.”
I insert my fingers and curl. She pants. “Ten out of ten, baby. Now, come for me.” I start rubbing her clit and kissing her thigh. “Let go, Ce.”
I rub faster and harder, and her hips buck as a cry rips from her chest. I lick her intensely, noticing that she’s getting wetter and wetter.
“Just like that,” I whisper, watching her come undone. “So fucking hot.”
She pushes my fingers out of her, and she jerks up on the couch. “Holy shit.”
“Are you okay?” I ask as she clutches her head.
She shakes her head. “No, I need a second. I’m seeing stars.”
I jump to the kitchen and grab her water. I come back and offer her a sip. She takes the cup and chugs.
“Thank you,” she says, resting her head on the armrest.
I grab her feet and rest them on my lap. My dick’s still hard, but I don’t mind it as I rub the bottom of her feet.
“So, you want to know everything?” I ask, curiosity winning.
She nods, biting her bottom lip. “Alix made a good point when she started asking me questions about you, and I didn’t know any of the answers.”
“I prefer it that way,” I confess.
She nods. “I know, but I want to know more. I know who you are here. Hot hockey player who doesn’t date. Mellow unless on the ice. Smart. Has friends, but beyond that, I don’t know.”
I continue to rub her feet, wondering how much I want to tell her, knowing that this friends-with-benefits thing has an expiration date.
This weekend, her crush will be at a party where she’ll win him over.
There’s no way a man could say no to a face like hers, a body like hers, and the success she has makes her the whole fucking package.
If status means something to this rich kid, which, judging by his sister, it does, then I know he’ll have her wrapped around his finger. I’m interested to know who this kid is.
“It was my mom,” I admit, looking at her perfectly manicured toes.
“Your mom?” she questions. “Oh. You mean it was your mom in your bedroom?”
I nod, feeling all kinds of anxious thoughts coursing through me.
She sits up. “Your mom?”
I nod again, meeting her eyes.
She laughs. “Shit. When you said you weren’t fucking someone, I thought maybe it was your ex. Or a potential girlfriend. You were hiding your mom from me?”
She’s gaping, clearly not understanding why I would hide my mom from her. I nod anyway, pulling her feet back to my lap. I need something to do with my hands.
“One second,” she says, standing. She walks to the kitchen and throws me my shorts. Then she takes a minute in her bedroom. When she walks back out, she’s in a cute matching set that looks comfy. “Why would you hide your mom from me? You don’t want me to meet her or something?”
I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’m embarrassed.”
She scoffs. “Dilly, I wouldn’t tell her that I’m using her son as a boy toy. Who do you think I am?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m embarrassed of her.”“Oh,” she says, and her entire body language changes. “Why would you be embarrassed of her?”
I run my tongue against my teeth, then clench my jaw. “Because…” I start, but I don’t know how to complete the sentence. “She has issues.”
Cecily grabs my hand. “What kind of issues?” she whispers.
We sit in silence for a few minutes while I try to gather myself.
I don’t know how to say it without feeling like I’m pouring even more of myself into Cecily.
I never want her to think any less of me, but I learned early on that when a mother isn’t the best, the first judgment is that her child must be just like her.
Cecily waits patiently, forgetting all about the protein smoothie she had planned.
“Dylan,” she grabs my face. “Where did you go right there?”
“She’s an addict, Ce,” I mutter under my breath.
There, I said it aloud.
I admitted it to someone.
It doesn’t hurt any less.
My mom came to me on Saturday for more money, and that’s the sick thing about people with an addiction: they burn through money day in and day out.
There aren’t enough drugs out there for them, which means money is the key, even if she was whoring herself out while I was in high school.
The phases don’t last long, and they rotate.
Right now, she thinks I’m her cash cow. She stopped by unannounced to demand money I don’t have.
Cecily rubs her thumb on my hand. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about that,” she says. “Not with me, okay? It’s not your fault.”
“Even if I give her money for it?” I counter.
She grabs my cheek and searches my eyes. “If she’s asking for money, and you give it to her, what she does with it is her business. It’s not on you.”
I try my hardest not to pull away, but I can’t help it. I don’t like being comforted. “I’m enabling her. I know she has a problem.”
“Dylan,” Cecily says sternly. “Don’t be hard on yourself. This is a hard situation, and I don’t think there’s a right or a wrong.”
I fold my hands together and think about what she’s saying.
Is she right? I shake my head, not wanting to believe it.
I want her to question why I would give my mom money even though I know she’s using it for drugs, to accuse me of enabling her problem, and tell me that I’m part of that fucking problem.
“I’m sorry, Dylan. I had no idea.”
I shrug. “Only the guys know.”
She grabs my hands. “Thanks for telling me. I know that’s not easy. How long has she been using?”
“I was a drug baby.”
“Shit,” she says, and I meet her serious gaze with my own.
“I don’t know who my dad is, but clearly he couldn’t have been that bad because I’m not all that bad, am I?” I joke, but there’s nothing funny about it. My mom always told me I was like my dad, but not knowing who he was ate at me. Not so much these days, though.
“I don’t know,” she jokes. She pokes me. “No, you’re not bad at all. But this explains why you’re emotionally unavailable.”
I scrunch my face, leaning into her. “Actually, Mom and Dad have nothing to do with that,” I admit. “My ex cheated on me.”
Her eyes widen. “Smut, you are dropping bombs on me today. Are you fricking kidding me?”
I shake my head, smiling. “I wish I were.”
“Do you need me to kick her ass? Humiliate her? Who is she?”
I lean back, chuckling to myself. Of course, Cecily would offer that.
She continues, “I love getting revenge. I’ll fuck her next boyfriend.”
That squeezes my gut because for a second, I forgot that this isn’t exclusive. That we aren’t anything but friends. And that fucking her ten minutes ago was mere practice, nothing more.
“I’m kidding,” she says. “About screwing her boyfriend, but I will so get revenge for you if you’d like. I’ll stick her toothbrush in the toilet, exchange her shampoo for Nair. Oh, I’ll throw eggs at her car.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes. “Honestly, you sound like my mom.”
She smiles. “Your mom and I would be best friends.”
I smile at her, looking at her smile. Her lips that taste like fucking candy. God, she really is perfect. My eyes drop back to my hands. “Ce,” I murmur. “I want you to know that I respect you.”
“Oh, my god, Dylan.” She rolls her head and pushes me. “Come on. We’re past that! Don’t get sentimental on me now. I need more practice.”
“Practice with what? You’re solid.” I nod. “You don’t need any more practice.”
She chuckles. “Smut, I’m pretty sure I was squealing like a fricking pig when you made me orgasm with your mouth.”
I smile, trying to hide it. “Yeah, well, that was hot. Ten out of ten, Ce. I could come to the sound of that.”
She falls onto the couch. “Are you telling me you’re done with me?”
I turn to her. “Rate me.”
She shrugs, playing with her hands. “Ten.” Her eyes meet mine.
“Really?” I lay back with her and purposely lean my body against hers. She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Yes.” She smiles. “I’m going to make that smoothie now.”
I follow behind her. “I’ll help.”
My way of helping is pressing the button on the blender. She sits on the counter and watches me pour the smoothie into two separate cups.
“Are you still hurt over your ex cheating on you?” she asks when I hand her the cup.
I take a sip and shrug. “Apparently, it was my fault.”
She scoffs. “No. What a frick.”
I nod. “Yeah. What a frick.”
“What did she say?”
I shrug. “She said I didn’t pay enough attention to her. That I was too busy with hockey, and that I was a lazy lay.”
Her brow furrows. “You are the sweetest guy I’ve ever been with. So in tune, vocal, and really sweet, Dylan. That’s a lie.”
I take another sip. I don’t tell her that my words during sex were a way of practicing. Usually, I’m not so in tune or vocal, but I’m glad to know that she rates me a ten. The practice has been nice because I’m comfortable with Cecily.
“How’re you going to ask Dane out?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m not.”
“Okay,” I counter. “What if he doesn’t ask you out?”
She shrugs. “Alix is going to help me.”
I huff, and she turns to me. “What?”
I inhale now, widening my eyes.
“What?” she laughs. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I shake my head. “I’m a guy. I have friends, and when a little sister is pestering you to date her friend, it’s annoying as hell.”
“Okay,” she mocks. “Suddenly, you’re insightful? Suddenly, you’ve been the guy?”
I laugh, surrendering. “I’m just saying that if you really want to impress him…”
“Oh my god. What?” she says, annoyed. She grabs my face. “Stop dragging this out and around the damn bushes, smut. Just say whatever it is.”