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Feeling myself getting too worked up, I release his junk and the guy instantly relaxes, grabbing his dick and groaning in pain, but I’m not quite done. “Hey,” I snap, watching his head raise back up to meet my irritated stare. “What’s your name?”
His face twists in annoyance but seeing King standing right at my back, he lets out a defeated sigh. “Sam.”
I laugh to myself. “Of course it is,” I grumble under my breath before giving him a wide smile filled with a false innocence. “Well, Sam. I hope you rot in the deepest pits of hell.” Then without even a second of warning, my hand curls into a tight fist and I throw it forward, feeling my brass knuckles slam against his jaw and rebound with a perfect arch.
King adjusts himself behind me to avoid getting my elbow to his face, but the way he moves so effortlessly tells me that he saw it coming a million miles away, and I kinda love that about him.
Sam crumbles to the ground as his friends laugh at him on the floor. I step over his foot and move back to start collecting all of my spilled textbooks when King drops down first, beating me to them and scooping them into his arms. “Are you good?” he asks, scanning over me and lingering on my fist, making sure I didn’t break anything in the process.
“I’m fine,” I tell him as he walks with me to my locker.
“You’re not fine,” he tells me, taking another few steps before pulling up short at my locker and entering my code—the code I was positive that no one knew. He shoves the books in and grabs my bag before handing it over. “You’ve been getting bullshit comments like that for two weeks, ever since Sara opened her big fucking mouth. Everyone knows it was a lie. Sara even admitted to it being a lie, so why the hell did you react?”
I let out a sigh and shrug my shoulders as I fall into his chest. “I don’t know,” I groan, hating how frustrated it’s making me. “There was just something about his forcefulness. He was an ass. I haven’t hit anything for weeks and I’ve been itching for that adrenaline. When I saw his stupid face, I couldn’t help but think it would make a really great punching bag.”
“Fuck, babe,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight. “We need to get you a punching bag stat.”
I roll my eyes as my stomach growls for something to eat. “No. We need to get me a fucking burger, and a big one.”
“Anything else, my queen?” he grumbles, giving me a dorky grin and ushering me toward the cafeteria with an exaggerated wave of his hand.
I follow his lead and bump his side with my hip, unable to help the twisted smirk that settles over my lips. “A four-way in the school parking lot wouldn’t go astray,” I comment, thinking about the failed one that was attempted last night, only for Lady Dante to come in and start humping Grayson’s leg, thinking it was more of a group activity. Well, it was, but not the kinda group Lady Dante clearly had in mind.
A wicked grin cuts across King’s face as he glances down at me to show off that gorgeous sparkle in his ocean eyes. “I can make that happen,” he says before his gaze takes on a seriousness that has butterflies swarming in my stomach. “I … uhhh.”
My eyes narrow. “Spit it out. You’re making me all anxious and nervous, and when I get nervous, I get sweaty. I’m in leather pants, King. I can’t afford to get sweaty.”
King’s face scrunches up, hating to bring up whatever the hell is on his mind. He lets out a sigh and grabs my hand before pulling me into an empty classroom and closing the door behind him. My brows furrow and I watch him closely as he instantly begins pacing the room.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, but every time I got the nerve, I chickened out like a little bitch.”
My gaze narrows. “King,” I warn, using my don’t fuck with me voice. “You have three seconds to spit it out before I walk back into that hallway and tell everybody that you let Lady Dante fuck you.”
His mouth drops. “What? No. You wouldn’t do that. Besides, that was Grayson, not me, and she was only humping his leg. The poor dog didn’t even get to finish before Gray kicked her off.”
“King …”
“Alright, fuck,” he groans, looking like he’s about to be sick. He takes a shaky breath and I can’t help the grin that tears across my face. All this time, I thought Hunter King was superhuman. I didn’t realize that he was capable of feeling nervous. He’s always been so confident in what he wants, so forward, and able to throw himself headfirst into what he wants. He doesn’t hesitate, but this guy right here—he looks as though talking to me now is the equivalent of getting his balls waxed.
