Deuces Wild

Chapter 15

Carter

She’s mad…again. I’m in a constant state of horniness and she’s in a constant state of pissed-offness. I’m not saying she doesn’t have the right to be upset because I ripped her shirt, made her sleep on the sofa, call her Waif, and then didn’t get her lunch. In my defense, I forgot you had to pay for lunch. It was just…there every day when I went to the caf. I realize this way of thinking makes me out to be a bigger asshole than I am. Or maybe I am that big of an asshole.

I shake my head.

“Stop following me,” she mutters.

“No can do.”

She stomps forward and I follow until she nears the men’s locker room. Then I slam the door open and pull her inside. A pair of dumbasses are bent over the sink snorting something up their noses.

“Out,” I order.

“But our lines…” one of them whines.

I grab Wa—no, Mallory’s—wrist so she can’t escape and cross the room until I reach the sinks. Leaning down, I puff and blow their little mountain of coke into the basin.

“What the fuck, Carter!” screams one punk.

“Dude, this cost like two grand. It’s premium—“

“I don’t fucking care. You don’t do drugs in my locker room.” My rules are strict. No women, no booze, no gambling, no drugs. Those are the things you get suspended over and if you want to win championships, you can’t lose one member on your squad. Everyone has abided by those rules for four years.

“The season is over,” cries the first ass.

As if that matters. “It’s my locker room until I leave this hell hole. Now get the fuck out before I make you sniff the dirt off the shoes of the cleaning crew.”

“What crawled up your ass?” snipes the second punk as he straightens and wipes his finger across his nose.

“If you don’t leave, my size fourteens will be so far up your anal canal, you’ll feel my steel toe in your throat.”

“Just wait until you’re gone. We’re going to do whatever we want in here,” he mumbles, full of white-powdered bravery.

“But I’m not gone, am I?” I say quietly because I’m done with their shit and want them out of here so I can talk to Mallory about how that scene back in the caf was a misunderstanding and not done intentionally to humiliate her. These two pencil dicks are getting on my last nerve.

“I think you should go,” Mallory contributes. “I’ve seen him when he’s mad. Not a thing in the house survives. He once took a cat and threw it out a window. It landed on its feet, but can you imagine what a monster he is if he throws animals around?”

The coke-addled students’ jaws drop at this info and they scurry out to spread the news that I’m an animal abuser. If my reputation before was bad, this is surely going to put a nail in my coffin. The minute the door shuts behind them, I turn to Mallory with a dark look on my face. She takes a step back and I approach. We do this little dance until her spine hits the tile wall. I slap a hand next to her face and lean in.

“I don’t have a cat.”

“You could have had one at one time. You seem like the type.” She licks her lips nervously, as if she can’t quite believe she said what she said. Her soft pink tongue darts out to swipe along the plump flesh before disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. I want that tongue in my mouth. I want that tongue on my skin. I want it running over my lip. I want it tracing a path down my neck. I want it leaving a trail down to my dick. I want it on my dick. Fuck. The blood in my head pools in my groin. My jeans grow two sizes too small. I dip down even closer until there’s almost no space between us, needing her to understand a few simple facts.

“The only thing I’ve ever given a shit about in my entire life is football. Football and cats don’t co-exist so I’ve never had a pussy. Not once in my life,” I say with deliberation.

Her eyes widen. “I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. The truth is the truth.”

“The minute you walked into school, half the female population were swarmed around you,” she scoffs.

“And I only had eyes for you.” I can’t wait another minute. My mouth dips and lands on hers, resting gently because I don’t want to scare her off. She inhales sharply but doesn’t draw away. I deepen the pressure, feeling her lips give way and her tongue creep out to slide against the seam of my mouth. My knees nearly buckle at her first touch. I reach up and tug on her chin and her mouth opens for me. I invite myself in, sweeping through the barrier, tasting her in all of her glory. She’s sweet and warm, like hot cider on a cold day. Her hands come up to clutch my shoulders and even that small touch nearly does me in.