I roll my eyes, indicating my annoyance. This happens every few weeks or so. Jace Quinn is a great guy, good friend, and a helluva hockey player. But prepared, he is not. Or maybe he is and goes through them so fast that he never has time to restock? Who knows. He has a new chick in his bed every two days. The dude is a fucking stud.
I, on the other hand, tend to be a bit more reserved on the hookups with puck bunnies and the like. I’m cool with whatever anyone else does, but for me, I need a connection with a girl, not just a pussy. Plus, I don’t want to get sidetracked with a relationship when I have so many other things on my plate.
Opening the drawer of my bedside table, I toss him a string of Trojans, which he catches with ease.
“Thanks, bro. And you best wear your headphones tonight, ‘cause it’s gonna get loud up here.” He waggles his eyebrows and vanishes from sight down the hallway, his white ass flashing me as he goes.
I hear his bedroom door click shut and laughter ensues before music muffles the noise that the creaking springs of his bed make.
With a heavy sigh, I grab my laptop and books in my arms. I head downstairs, passing the front room where Stoney is on the couch playing video games with a headset and mic on and I give him a head nod as I walk past. He’s not a hockey player, but a video game nerd and Jace’s younger brother. His real name is Max, but he has a reputation for being high all the time, thus the name Stoney.
It’s been a long day and my body is just now feeling the distinct soreness that only a good hockey workout can provide. We have a game coming up this weekend, so I need to keep myself hydrated and eat well. I make some sandwiches and grab an apple before sitting down at the table and opening my Lit book to where I left off at the library when I met with Brin.
I’m not normally a guy who embarrasses easily, but when I do, I can’t help the hot flush that colors my face and ears. And reading about sex in fiction definitely did the trick. The literature and poems representing the sexual human condition—and then discussing their meaning with Brin—had me hard andhorny. It certainly didn’t help that Brin is a smoking hot tutor whose wet shirt clung to her boobs, putting her puckered nipples on display through her shirt. Not only was it physically distracting, but mentally a mindfuck as we discussed books and poems representing all things love, sex, and desire.
One of my assignments for this week is to read and provide my analysis of a Tennyson poem—The Princess. It’s a hard fucking assignment too. To add to that complication, I was curious about Brinly’s name when we met and had asked her what it meant. Wouldn’t you fucking know it? It means “virtuous princess.”
Now every time I read a passage or see the word princess, I automatically picture Brin and her full mouth, those wide blue-marine eyes, and captivating cleavage, and I wonder if she’s as virtuous as her name implies.
I groan loudly at the thought of her virtuous mouth taking me in side and then sliding into her perfect body. Fuck, just shoot me now. My dick throbs in pain, straining against my shorts.
Hoping to rid myself of these unvirtuous thoughts, I decide to go for a quick run. I’m already dressed in my jogging shorts, T-shirt, and running shoes. Plugging my earbuds into my phone and slipping them in my ears, I head out the front door, stretching out my calves and quads before I leave the porch and hit the pavement.
Our house is only a few blocks from campus and away from the lively areas along frat and sorority row. I usually prefer to run through the quiet neighborhood streets instead of the crowded sidewalks around the quad, but something pulls me toward the school. Specifically, toward the street Brin lives on.
During our introductions of one another, Brin mentioned she’s in the Sigma Kappa Alpha sorority house. The big, white, three-story one with the ivy-lattice exterior and the cute window boxes decorated with flowers.
My feet move with purpose as I pump my arms and legs, increasing my blood flow as I loosen up with every step I get closer to Greek street.
As a hockey player, I have always been in the company of other guys, so the idea of joining a fraternity never appealed to me. That’s not to say I haven’t gone to my fair share of frat parties, but it’s not high on my weekend priority list during the season. But tonight I make a conscious effort to run down that street and past her sorority.
The timing is unbelievable because the moment I pass the house directly next to the Sigma house, I notice two girls walking down the front path toward the street. They’re giggling over something one of the girls has in her hands.
I slow my pace and then stop the minute I recognize that one of them is Brin.
Her head suddenly pops up and our eyes connect, her sweet laughter ending abruptly the moment she notices me standing a few yards away. I draw in a breath that literally escaped my mouth when I saw her.
My eyes scan over her body and heat travels down to my dick. Brin has on a pair of short shorts and a T-shirt, with her hair pulled up high on top of her head in a thick ponytail, and she’s carrying a large paper bag in her arms.
I lift my hand in a wave and walk to the end of the sidewalk where they stand.
Coughing to clear my parched throat, I lamely say, “Hey. I was just out for a run.”
The other girl nudges Brin, who looks like she’s seen a ghost. Or a creeper. I notice the other girl whisper something to Brin in the form ofare you okay? but she doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“Hi,” she finally says, as her friend tips her head with a smile and addresses me with curiosity.
“Hey, I’m Lola. Aren’t you…” She looks at me, then at Brin, and then her gaze lands on me again with a hard look. “Aren’t you Preston Dahl? Number 17 on the Beacons hockey team?”
I shrug noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Lola giggles and cocks her head. “How do you two know each other?”
Brin’s chin drops to her chest, avoiding my eye contact. “Oh, um…we…”
“She’s my new English and Lit tutor.”
Lola’s eyes grow double in size and her mouth forms an O. Then she turns to Brin with an accusatory smirk and pokes her in the side. Brin’s head snaps up, her dark ponytail swinging behind her.
