I don’t say a word, silently urging her to keep talking.
She does. “I just— It’s hard for me to believe you liked me even while you were having sex with Linda Flowers.”
One side of my mouth pulls up. “It’s true, though. I liked youespeciallywhile Linda Flowers de-flowered me.”
When I sneak a glance at her, she still looks dubious.
“You wanna know when?” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“For a couple months, Linda made it abundantly clear if I wanted her, I could have her. Do you remember our field day toward the end of school?”
She visibly winces. “The year I slipped in the kiddie pool during the obstacle course and got absolutely drenched?”
I smile at the memory and lift an eyebrow at her. “Yup. And you’d chosen thewhitefield day shirt.”
Her hand goes up to her forehead. “Don’t remind me!”
“I must have jerked off to that image thousands of times after that,” I admit. “But I didn’t have to that day because that’s when I finally took Linda up on her offer. Eyes closed, thinking of you the whole time.”
She punches me on the bicep. “That’s awful,” she cries.
“I know!” I’m laughing, but I mean it. “If it makes you feel any better, she was using me to get back at her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Steve Martinez.”
Brie laughs. “So you deserved each other.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say.
“Who did you lose your V-card to?” I ask, taking a risk. “And if you say Steve Martinez . . .”
“Linda Flowers,” she says, and I laugh.
Her fingers idly rub my thigh.
After a moment, she says, “A guy named Allen Ow. We were both freshmen, living in the same dorm. We dated for about a year, and he was sweet, but,” she shrugs, “we were eighteen. We both got bored, I guess.”
I’m immediately jealous of Allen Ow. He must’ve been an idiot to get bored of her.
Her fingers trail higher up my leg, distracting me enough to almost miss the next turn.
Brie chuckles. “Did you really jerk off to me looking like a wet rat?”
Even after all these years, the image still stirs up the deep yearning and gratitude teenage-me felt at the time.
Voice a bit deeper, I say, “You didnotlook like a wet rat. And yes. I jerked off to you in that wet t-shirt. I jerked off to you in your tiny gym shorts. Hell, I jerked off to you in yourwinter jacket.”
She snorts, and I look over to find her cheeks darkening, a sly smile curling her lips upward. “Did you have any particular fantasies?”
I blow out a long breath. “Tons. I mean, as a horny teenager, basically anything’s fair game. I fantasized about taking you in the locker room, in an empty classroom, in the gym. On desks, in chairs, against bookshelves. Literally anywhere and everywhere.”
I slow to a stop at the three-way intersection. She caresses my thigh.
Her hand delicately trails up, avoiding my groin, to my waistband. Her nails scrape across my stomach as she pops the button of my jeans. My hips nearly come off the seat, thrusting against nothing.
“Any other fantasies?” she asks innocently.
Precum leaches out of my dick as she gives me a sultry look and slowly lowers my zipper.
