asks, grinning broadly as she walks over and flops down on my bed. "If you were doing the deed, I'd be scarred for life. But I didn't hear any uhhhh-uhhhh-uhhhh."
I slap her hard on the arm. "That is not what I sound like."
"Stop getting distracted. Did you do it or not?"
"I'm not kissing and telling!"
Sable looks at me like I have three heads. "I tell you about my sexual misadventures."
"Yeah, because you never learned appropriate boundaries as a child and you think that talking in great detail about your sexual conquests is totally normal."
"My sexual conquests," Sable says. "I like the way that sounds."
"Speaking of which, how's Tank?" I ask.
Sable sighs and leans back with her head against the wall. "Jonathan is…good."
"Jonathan?" I ask, laughing.
"That's his name. His actual name, not his nickname."
"Since when did you start learning the names of the guys you bang?" I ask. That sounds like a bitchy thing to say, but it's not. Sable prefers to refer to the guys she dates by a moniker other than their names – The Artist, or The Drummer, or The Jackhammer. "I've never heard you call anyone by his name."
Sable shrugs. "I like his name."
I sit up straight in bed. "You like him."
Sable rolls her eyes. "I do not," she says. "I like banging him."
I narrow my eyes as I point my finger at her. "No, no, no, this is not the I-like-sex Sable I know and love. This Sable is all weird."
"Oh, shut up," she groans, her cheeks pink.
"You're blushing again."
"So what? I think Jonathan is cute and I like hooking up with him."
"You liiike him," I tease, dragging out the word.
"Shut up, Virgin."
"Not anymore."
"Hah. I knew it!" She bolts upright in the bed, turning to face me and crisscrossing her legs. "You have my undivided attention. Tell me absolutely everything in exacting detail."
"We did it," I say. "That's it. I'm not a virgin anymore."
Sable screws up her face. "Oh. I see. Well, don't worry about it. You know, it's not necessarily fireworks and magic the first time anyway."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's okay if it was disappointing," she assures me. "I mean, it's a lot of pressure, twenty-three years of waiting for the big moment. So it's naturally going to be hard for it to live up to the expectation."
"It wasn't disappointing," I tell her. "It was… really good."
"Why did you make it sound like it was disappointing?"
"I didn't!" I protest. "I just said that I lost it and that's it."
"Where did he take you?" Sable asks. "Did he make me proud?"
"Make you proud?" I ask.
"He was worried about the whole deflowering thing."
"What??" I squeal. "He talked to you about it?"
"Not exactly," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "He wanted a little advice. It was so sweet."
"He needed advice on how to do it?" My voice goes up approximately three octaves. It's one thing for Sable and I to deconstruct our sex lives or lack thereof, but another thing entirely for Colton to talk to her about how to deflower me.
Sable cocks her head to the side. "No, he was clear on the mechanics," she goes on. "I mean, at least I hope he was."
"Yes," I mumble, my teeth gritted. "We were both clear on the mechanics, thanks. What exactly did he say to you about it?"
"He wanted to make the experience… special," she explains. "Romantic."
"So you told him what to do?" I ask. I feel a sudden pang of disappointment that he asked Sable for advice. Here I was, thinking that he had come up with the back-of-the-truck thing all on his own.
"Of course I didn't tell him what to do," she says. "I just told him you weren't a flowers and dinner kind of girl and he should think outside the box."
"That's all you told him?" I ask. "And who says I'm not a flowers and dinner kind of girl?"
"Come on," Sable whines. "Don't deny me this. How did he do it?"
"Missionary style."
"Hilarious. I don't want to know the position. Did he think outside the box or not?"
I exhale heavily. "He brought me out into the country," I tell her. "In his truck. That sounds a lot lamer than it was."
"So you did it in the back of his pickup truck?" Sable asks, wrinkling her nose like she smells something bad. "When I suggested he think outside the box, I kind of meant a suite at the Four Seasons or something."
"Ok, I'm not telling you anything else."
"No! Keep going! I'll zip my lips. Promise." She makes a fake buttoning gesture and gives me a patiently waiting look.
I roll my eyes. "I'm not telling you any more," I say. "It was outside under the stars and it was very nice and he did well. It was outside of the box. And it was romantic."
Sable grins broadly. "Good. I'm glad neither of you got poison ivy on your junk."
"You're such a bitch."
"Did I wish poison ivy on you or did I literally just say I was glad that neither of you came home with junk-rashes?"
"So Jonathan is your boyfriend, now, right?"
"That's a low blow, bringing relationship labels into this conversation," she says. "We're having fantastic sex and that's that."
"Sure you are."
"Look at you. One time having sex and now you're an expert on no-strings relationships."
"Not one time," I confess, my face warming at the thought of Colton taking me up against the side of his truck.
"You hussy!"
"Was that pride I heard in your tone?"
"My little baby is growing up," Sable sings, wiping a mock tear from her eye. "Colton's not going to know what hit him."
* * *
Sable was right.
It's like a switch got flipped the night Colton and I had sex. I mean, I don't know how I've gone twenty-three years without sex. I thought I had a good idea of what it entailed – it's not like I'm a prude. I had sex toys and my fingers and, really, they worked just fine.
Now, I'm learning "just fine" is nothing compared to Colton King's cock.
Virgin girl goes cock-crazy once she gets a taste. Virgin girl gets debauched and becomes a very bad girl. It's an eye-roll-inducing cliché. Except here I am, practically begging for Colton's dick constantly. I'm a walking ball of need and want and desire, perpetually aroused, wanting Colton to bend me over and take me anywhere, anytime. It's like I'm making up for lost time, trying to cram years of pent-up frustration into one summer of sex.
I've become one of those girls who get a little bit of cock and lose their damn minds.
Except with Colton… it's not a little bit of cock. It's a hell of a lot.
He seems to have a sixth sense, seems to know exactly how to touch me – the right place, the right intensity, the right position – to send me hurtling over the edge so quickly.
And Colton has been only too happy to oblige my crazy sex drive.
In fact, he obliges over and over again.
In my room in the apartment – on the bed, on the desk, on the floor, against the wall. On the sofa, the kitchen counter, on the floor just inside the doorway of my place. In the tutoring room. In the truck at the lake. In his room while I pretend to be helping him study, but I think his roommates know exactly what's going on.
I'm on a sex-induced high, and I don't want to come down from it. The problem is, I have the nagging feeling that it's just a matter of time until it all comes crashing to the ground.
29
Colton
"You have a thing for her." Drew says it into the phone to me, and then repeats it in a whisper that I can totally hear.
"Are you kidding me, Drew? Is Beth right there in the room with you?" I ask. I should have known. Drew and his girlfriend have been joined at the hip since they started dating in eighth grade. They even picked the same college to attend to keep from being separated.
 
; "I'm totally leaving," Beth says. I can hear her loud and clear on the phone now. I hear her stomp on the ground.
"Am I on speaker? Have I been on speaker this whole time?" I ask. "Beth, I came up with that fake-walk-away bullshit when we were twelve, so don't even try it."
"He just put you on speaker, Colt," Beth says.
"Both of you are dead to me."
"Don't be mad, Colt," Beth says. "I made Drew tell me."
"What all did he tell you?"
"That you devirginized a virgin," Beth answers. "And that you like her."
"Goddamn it, Drew, you have such a big fucking mouth," I say. "The virgin thing was between you and me. And I don't like her."
"It's so sweet, Colt," she says.
I groan. "That's awesome, Beth," I say. "I'm glad you think my sex life is sweet. Take me off speaker, Drew."
"I love you too, Colt," Beth calls.
"Tell me why I still talk to either of you," I say.
"You're stuck with me," Drew says. "And Beth –"
"She's practically your conjoined twin."
"You should have asked me, Colt," Beth says. "I could have given you the girl's perspective on the whole devirginizing thing, since Drew took mine."
"I'm not talking to you about how my brother deflowered you," I say. "And I don't have a thing for Cassie. We're friends. And she's tutoring me. And if either of you say anything to mom, you're dead. I mean it."
"Mom already mentioned it to me," Drew says.
"How does mom know I fucked Cassie?"
"She just said you were hooking up with a girl she met," Drew tells me. "She didn't say anything about fucking, thank God. I don't want to talk to mom about you fucking your girlfriend."
"She's not his girlfriend, Drew," Beth prods.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"But you want her to be your girlfriend," Beth says.
"I thought you were leaving the room, Beth."
"Don't get on him about it, Beth," Drew warns. "He's sensitive. He has feelings now."
"Fuck both of you guys."
"Wait, wait!" Beth exclaims. "For real, how long have I known you? Since we were in first grade?"
"Yeah, unfortunately."
"So, I can't remember you ever being so preoccupied with a girl."
"I'm not preoccupied."
"He's preoccupied with her vagina," Drew clarifies, and I hear Beth slap him.
"I'm getting off the phone now," I say loudly.
"Colt!" Beth yells. "Wait, for real."
I exhale heavily. "What?"
"I knew you had it in you," she says.
Drew laughs. "He's trying to put it in the girl," he says.
"Shut up, Drew," Beth shouts. "I'm being serious here, for real. I always knew that if you found a girl you really liked, the whole player thing would go out the window."
"No one's talking about finding a girl I like or about ditching the whole player thing," I protest. "I'm twenty-one. And I'll go pro next year. Everything's going to change. I'm not in a relationship. I'm going to be a ba-jillionaire and fuck a thousand models in my big-ass mansion on top of my piles of money."
"Don't be a jackass," Beth says.
"You two are the jackasses hassling me about a girlfriend," I protest.
I'm edgy and irritable at Beth's suggestion that I've somehow fallen for Cassie. Just because she's the only girl I want to sleep with doesn't mean this is going to last forever.
"I'm just saying that you're soft on her," Beth says. "That's not a bad thing. You're a good guy at heart, Colton. You just don't want to admit it."
"I'm hanging up now."
30
Cassie
"Another A."
I jump at the sound of Colton's voice behind me, my heart skipping more than a few beats. "Shit, Colton," I breathe, whirling around and slapping him hard on the chest. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I almost dropped my groceries."
"I'm trying to collect my reward for hard work," he says, lifting bags from my hands. I turn around and manage to put the key in the apartment door before he grips my hip with one hand and pulls me against his cock for emphasis.
As if I weren't already clear on what he meant by reward.
"Cut it out! Someone is going to see you," I hiss, even though when I look around I can see clearly that the hallway is deserted. I swat Colton's hands off my hips, but he doesn't let go, spinning me around the second we get through the door and pressing me hard up against the wall. My body responds immediately to him, the way it always does, my breath hitching in my throat and warmth coursing through me, radiating to my core.
"Reward me, Teach," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. He kisses me just under my earlobe — the most sensitive place on my neck – and his teeth drag across my skin as he kisses his way lower.
"Were you just sitting outside my apartment in the dark waiting for me, you creep?" I ask, hardly able to get the question out as he runs his hands over my breasts.
"Maybe I was. With binoculars," he adds. His hand runs up the inside of my thigh and straight to its destination between my legs. "Where are you coming back from in this little skirt? You have a little bit of a Catholic schoolgirl thing going on in this outfit, you know."