Page 29 of Personal Foul

This whole evening has thrown me off completely. Some of the PDA could be explained away by putting on a show for our friends, but not all of it.

Not the way he pulled me in close to him when they weren’t paying attention to us. Not the way he wrapped his arm around me on the walk to his car. And definitely not that kiss.

No matter how much I try to explain it away, ignore it, pretend it never happened, my mind keeps circling back to it. To the way his hands felt gripping me. How soft his lips were against mine. The nearly palpable spark that passed between us, sending heat pooling between my thighs.

The absolute last thing I need is to grow an inconvenient attraction to Dylan Douchebag Thompson. I’ve never been attracted to someone I hate before.

Except tonight, he hasn’t been acting as awful as I’m used to. He’s even called me the right name all night. And I realize I should expect that as the bare minimum from a date, but with Dylan, that’s a big deal.

At least he agreed to take me home easily enough. With the way he’s been acting, I almost expected him to put up a fight.

“Thank you for calling me by my name,” I say quietly as we leave the parking lot of Curly’s Throwing Axes.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, that smirk I have a love-hate relationship with quirking his lips. “I always call you by your name.”

“Ugh. You do not. You call me Chastity most of the time.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding perfectly innocent. “That’s not your name?”

I punch him in the arm. Hard.

He jerks, switching hands on the steering wheel so he can rub where I hit him. “Careful, babe. I’m driving.”

“Pull over, then, so I can do it again.”

He laughs. “I like it when you get feisty. Didn’t expect such violence though.” He tuts, like I’m a small child he’s chastising, which only makes me want to hit him again. “And anyway, I always thought Chastity suited you better.” He gives me a quick once over. “You always seem so prim and buttoned up. Figured you must have a belt on under there too.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, my cheeks flaming.

He’s undeterred, though. “You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Like that’s any of your business.”

Laughing, he nods. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, because I don’t care if he thinks I’m still a virgin. I’m not, not that it matters one way or the other.

“Awww, don’t be like that,” he says after several moments pass in silence.

“Like what, exactly?”

“All sullen and pouty. We were having fun earlier.”

I shift in my seat so I can face him better. “Tell me just one thing—would you like me better or worse if I were still a virgin?”

He’s grinning. This is all one big joke to him. “I mean, youarea virgin. You’ve basically just admitted it. But really, babe, it doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“Right.” I shake my head. “Of course not. Because we’re not in a real relationship, so my sexual experience or lack thereof is absolutely none of your business as it has no effect on you whatsoever.”

He laughs again. “That too. But I’d fuck you either way. You want someone to pop your cherry? I can be the guy for that.” His voice gets low. A little rough, like silk where it’s soft and smooth but catches just a little on your hand. “I’d make it good for you, too. Make sure you’re nice and warmed up with an orgasm or two before sliding inside your tight little pussy. It’d be a good first time story. That doesn’t happen often. I’d take me up on the offer if I were you.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter again, my eyes almost popping out of my head. “Does that shit actually work?”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes again, his sexy smirk still firmly in place. “More often than you’d like to think.”

“That’s it. I’m officially ashamed of my gender.”

That has him laughing. “Because they’re willing to get some and you aren’t?” He tsks again. “Seriously. You should try it sometime. It might help you loosen up.”

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