Page 43 of Daring the Hockey Player
"You again," I mutter, glaring at Charlotte, the girl who is ruining my chances for—what, exactly? Amber is off-limits, although my cock doesn't like to think so.
"She's a virgin," Charlotte chimes.
My tongue darts out to the side of my lip as I take in the information that her friend has shared with me. I figured as much based on what she'd told me a few nights ago, but I've just had my suspicions confirmed.
Amber's eyes widen, and she smacks her friend's arm. "You brat!"
Charlotte laughs and kisses Amber's cheek. I can't help but feel my cock stir, imagining the two girls tangled in the bedsheets.
"Get lost," Amber says and shoves Charlotte away. "I'll find my own ride home."
"I just bet you will," Charlotte says with a wink. She turns to face me. "Take good care of her."
Charlotte disappears amongst the crowd, and Amber glances down, shoving her face into her hands. "That was humiliating."
I consider asking her 'what,' but that'd make her relive it. "Everyone has a first time," I say with a shrug.
"Not me," she mutters into her hands.
Virgin territory.
I should leave well enough alone. It's not like I haven't dipped my stick in the honey pot, but I know better than to get involved with a virgin. They tend to be clingy and overly emotional. The game is my priority, my first love.
I like sex—what hot-blooded male doesn't—but I don't need a girl to be writing me love letters every day or drawing our initials in hearts on her schoolwork.
"You will," I say and rest my hand on her arm.
She pries her face from her hands and glances up at me cautiously. "You're not making fun of me?" she asks, surprised.
"Why would I?"
"Because I'm a twenty-year-old—" She doesn't finish the sentence.
"It's not a big deal. I mean, you've been kissed before. Right?"
And when she doesn't answer me, I realize how innocent and inexperienced Amber is, and I want to help her, but I shouldn’t.
"No," Amber says and reaches for my bottle of beer.
I relinquish it, letting her take a swig. She grimaces from the taste but doesn't spit it out. My mind immediately goes where it shouldn't, wondering if she'd spit or swallow—I clear my throat and reach for the beer bottle. "You've had enough."
"We're friends, right?" Amber asks, and I nod.
"Yes, I'd consider us friends." I haven't told Emerson that her underage little sister is at the bar. I think that means we have a solid foundation of friendship, or at the very least, I'm enjoying her company, and I don't want her to leave.
"Will you teach me how to kiss? I mean, what if I'm terrible at it, and no boy ever wants to kiss me again?"
"Wait. You've been with two girls, and you never kissed either of them?" I run a hand through my hair. To say I'm at a loss for words is an understatement.
Her cheeks redden, and for a minute, I think she's about to tell me that she's punked me. That she's either not a virgin or hasn't been with girls. I'm not sure which I'd rather hear. Honestly, it doesn't matter. I don't care about her past. I care that she's honest with me.
"Kissing was off-limits. It was more exploratory." Amber's face is flushed.
I take another swig of my beer, which is now very near empty. "Exploratory. How?" I want to get her to open up to me. I'm unsure why I'm continuing down this line of questioning, but I want to hear more.
She crinkles her nose when she smiles. "You're not going to make me spell it out for you."
"Tongue? Fingers? Toys?" I ask, trying to gauge what she's done.
