The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,58

about anything but two nights ago. Murphy poked fun at me earlier today, asking what it was like. He claimed he could hear her whimpers and moans, but I know he couldn’t. All he was doing was trying to get me to spill the beans.

Fucker!

I almost laughed out loud at the shocked look on his face when I told him I wasn’t going to tell him if I did anything with Blair. There had never been a time when I kept my mouth shut about a chick that took a ride on my cock, but Blair was special and nothing like the other girls. She meant something to me, even if I was terrified to admit it. I wasn’t going to shatter that intimate moment we had together by telling everyone and their mother about it.

When I reach the door to our session room, I banish the thoughts away. As I reach for the doorknob, I hear someone inside.

“Everyone says you’re taking cock as payment now. Lay down on the table, and I’ll pay you good and well.” The fucking douchebag on the other side says, and I see red.

Twisting the knob hard enough to rip it out of the wood, I shove the door open. It connects with the wall behind it, rattling the small room. Blair’s worry-filled expression is the first thing to flash before my eyes. My gaze drifts over her. All her clothes are in place, and it doesn’t look like the douchebag tried to touch her. Not yet. Thank fuck, I showed up when I did.

Turning my attention to the fuckwad in front of me, he has the nerve to fucking grin, actually grin, and I clench my hand into a tight fist. I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t. It could cost me everything, and yet, I’ve never felt so compelled to knock a fucker out.

“She fucking you too?” He laughs, and I snap.

Without thinking of the consequences and forgetting the worry in Blair’s eyes, I rear my fist back and punch the fucker right in his prick nose. Bone crunches beneath my knuckles and the sound is music to my fucking ears.

Shock shimmers in his eyes, which morphs into pain an instant later. Blair rushes toward me as he lifts a hand to his bleeding nose.

“You broke my nose, you broke my fucking nose,” he shrieks.

“Good, next time I’ll break your fucking legs. You don’t talk to her like that. Consider this a warning to any other assfucks that are thinking the same thing as you.”

“You won’t get away with this fucker…I’m gonna ruin you.” He shoves past me and into the hallway before disappearing. My blood is still boiling at his words, and I contemplate going to find him to rearrange his face some more. The Asshole needs a lesson in manners, obviously.

Blair’s hand presses against my chest, and she peers up at me through her black-framed glasses. I flinch at her touch but only for a moment. Merely looking at her seems to cool me just enough to take the edge off. Now I want to ravage her, consume her, touch, caress, and kiss every inch of her porcelain skin.

“You can’t do things like that, Cage,” she whispers but doesn’t look the least bit remorseful over what I did. Leaning down, I press my lips to her forehead and inhale deeply. She calms me, calms the beast wanting to break free.

“He’s lucky all he got was a broken nose. I don’t care what the fuck he does, who he tells, or how it comes back on me. I won’t let anyone say shit like that to you.” I stroke her hair, wanting to take her into my arms and hold her close.

I’m a fucking pussy. I know it. Blair has made me want things I wouldn’t ever think of doing with a chick.

“You could get kicked off the team or arrested,” she whispers.

I shrug. “I don’t care.” And I don’t.

Blair pulls away, her eyes bright. “You can’t do things like that, make rash choices without thinking of the consequences. I don’t want to be the reason you lose football or get in trouble with the law. You might not think so now, but you would resent me later for it.”

The fog around my head clears a little at her admission. “I made the choice, threw the punch, and I’ll own up to it. I won’t let someone say shit like that to you.”

Disbelief fills her features. “You have sex with me once,