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I want to bring her into my truck, tear the clothes off her curvy body, and sink my hard cock deep into her wet pussy.
I take all of that desire, lust, and the intense need for more, and channel it into rage.
“I’ll see you after practice,” I say as I struggle to tear my eyes off of this beauty. It hurts to look away. I add the frustration and irritation I’m feeling into my rage as I start to jog over to the football field.
This is going to be fucking fun.
I can’t wait to break each one of these fuckers for what they did to my girl.
Shit, their faces when they see me… classic. I have to hold in a laugh as I see one face dropping after another while I jog onto the field. All of the smiles disappear. All of the cockiness evaporates. They know this isn’t going to be a regular practice. They know they’re about to march through hell.
There won’t be any mercy from me. Only pain.
It’s payback time for fucking with my girl.
“Oh, yes!” coach Bradley says, rubbing his hands together with glee when he sees me. “Gather around, guys. We have a special visitor today.”
The boys reluctantly shuffle over, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else in the world. I want to tell them that they won’t have to be here for long. Soon, they’ll be in the hospital.
“This is the great Elijah ‘The Beast’ Stoll,” coach Bradley says as he presents me like a trophy. “The best defensive player in the history of Jacksland High School. I had the honor to coach him and now today, you have the honor to be coached by him.”
I’m cracking my big knuckles with my chin in the air as I look them over, wondering which ones tormented my girl. They look terrified. They look pathetic. By now, they all must have heard what I did to Malik and heard that I’m dating their favorite victim. They can see the desire for payback in my eyes. They know this is going to hurt.
“Beast,” coach says, “want to show these boys how to tackle?”
I roll my head from side to side as my eyes narrow on them. “More than anything.”
“Cooper,” coach calls.
“Not him,” I say, raising my hand. Cooper wasn’t on the list. I’ve memorized all five names and now I need to put faces to those names. “Andrew Cline.”
“Shit,” a big blond guy in the back mutters. My eyes dart over to him and I let out a low growl. I wonder if this is the fucker who spray-painted the word ‘WHORE’ across Ali’s locker. Maybe I should break both of his hands just in case.
“Let’s go, Andrew,” the coach says, waving him forward.
Andrew is big, but I’m bigger.
His face goes pale as he lines up and gets into position. I drop my hand in front of him, digging my fingertips into the grass while I wait for the coach’s whistle.
My furious eyes are fixated on his. He’s already sweating and breathing nervously as he waits.
“This is for Ali,” I whisper to him. “You look at her again and I’ll cut your throat in your sleep.”
His panicked eyes dart up, looking at me for the first time. “I didn’t even—“
The screech of the whistle cuts off his pathetic excuses. I go. Hard. I slam my shoulder into his chest and use my momentum and power to tear through him. He flies back with a grunt. I channel all of that burning rage and carnal power into the hit. He falls hard on his back, the wind ripped out of him, and I keep going. I slam my body down onto his and shove my thick forearm into his neck.
“This is just the beginning, motherfucker,” I hiss into his face before pushing my forearm into his Adam’s apple on the way up. “It’s going to be a long fucking practice for you.”
He’s groaning and writhing around as I stand over him with my body flexed. I stomp on his balls on the way back to the group.
The coach winces. “Jesus, Elijah.”
I shrug. “What? He’s got a cup on.”
Andrew rolls onto his stomach, clutching his dick as he howls in pain.
“Who’s next?” I grunt.
They all take a step back.
“Okay, okay,” the coach says as he grabs my arm and pulls me to the side.
“Take it easy,” he whispers. “They have a game on Friday.”
“No pain, no gain,” I say, echoing the coach’s own words that he used to always say when someone was hurt.
“Right,” the coach says uneasily. “Let’s try some drills. Offense, line up in a shotgun. Defense, nickel formation.” He blows the whistle and everyone jogs onto the field. Except for that prick, Andrew. He’s still tending to his swollen balls.
“Wait! Beast!” coach Bradley calls out as I jog onto the field. “You gotta wear a helmet and shoulder pads. School rules.”
