Page 73 of Wrong Pucking Player

Wait… what?

“Oh. No. You don’t need to come here. Winchester is here. Staring at bestie like a hawk ready to dive and steal his prey. You don’t need him getting upset with you ‘cause he couldn’t get pussy tonight. Got enough for one more shot, then I’ll begin the trek home. Don’t come here. It’s packed for your big goalie ass. Go to sleep or something. Take Melatonin Gummies. They’re good for you.”

What am I even saying?

“You should take lots of multi-vitamins now that you’re gonna be a goalie on that ice. Make all the girls attracted to you and shit. Shame you don’t do girls. I’d climb you. Ride and dine. Yup yup. Lick it all up and throw away the key. Why don’t I have a key to your apartment?”

I press send and stare at the text.

Fucking hell.

I’m drunk.

No.

I won’t admit that.

Time to disappear into a corner or something.

I do want one more shot.

“Can I get one more shot?” I ask and take my final bill out.

The bartender nods and is back in a minute with two shots.

“One’s on me,” he says with a wink.

Wait. He’s actually making a move on me?

I want to laugh because it seems unreal.

“Thanks,” I give him a seductive smile and place my bill on the table.

“You going to be here later?” Bartender asks. “I’m almost done with my shift. We can go get some air on the patio with some drinks?”

More like fuck in the corner of the patio…

God, that’s tempting.

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” I assure him as I’m already taking down a shot.

Maybe I can finally get laid. Being around Armani and Wyatt has been making me far too horny. My pussy needs some loving.

“Good,” he begins as he checks me out in my tight, teal blue dress that hugs me kinda nicely. I originally opted for black, but after seeing Armani, I decided I needed some color in my life.

To say stop hiding like I’m some hideous beast and enjoy the outside world by looking sexy, hot, and ready to mingle.

Guess it’s working.

Before he can take my bill, another is placed in front of mine. We’re both staring at the hundred-dollar bill before we’re simultaneously peering over to the culprit.

My reaction time may be much slower now that I’m drunk, but what happens next makes my heart skip a few beats and my pussy ache excitingly in response to what transpires in five long seconds.

A hand firmly gripping my right upper thigh.

Lips pressing firmly against mine.

My eyes widened to take in the dark expression that scrutinized me.

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