Untouched(20)

“I saw that hickey you left on her neck. Nice way to mark your territory, Anderson.” I hear a slap on the back.

“Oh yeah. Gotta let everybody know she’s claimed property. Can’t let anyone get that cherry before I do. She fucking loves it when I suck on her. She likes it everywhere, if you know what I mean.”

My eyes go blurry and I blink a few times, trying to remove the red from my vision. I’ve had all I can stand, so I stomp around the lockers to the other side. When I round the corner, everyone looks at me, but my eyes are locked on Croy.

“Anderson! On your feet!” My voice echoes through the locker room, and he pops up off the bench looking like a scared little shit. Good. He should be scared. I want to rip his lying face off, but I control it. I can’t go to jail, because then I’d be without Megan, and he’s not worth it. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk in here again. Do you understand me, boy?”

He nods his head nervously, but I wait for a response. “Yes, Coach Burns.”

“I want you back out on the field. You’re running laps with Coach Evans, and once he feels like you’re done, you’re going over the playbook front to back. Then you’ll come in early to go over it with him. We clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He looks defeated as he walks past me, back out of the locker room, but I don’t give a flying fuck.

I turn to the other players, and slam my playbook on the bench. “I don’t know what kind of locker room crap your last coach put up with, but that’s done and over. If I hear anything like the conversation I just heard ever again, you’ll all be warming the bench come game day.” They all look at me with wide eyes, but I’m beyond enraged. I know it’s because they were talking about Megan. This kind of talk always happens when guys get together, not just in locker rooms. But I’m blinded by my anger, and I don’t care. “Everybody clear on this?”

“Yes, Coach Burns,” they say in unison.

I pick up my playbook and storm into my office, throwing it down on my desk. She’s gotten so deep under my skin that the mention of her name is all it takes to send me over the edge. That little fucker claims he gave her that mark. That mark is mine. She’s mine. I laid claim to that body first. I am the one who broke in her pussy nice and sweet. She’s only had me inside of her. Not some skinny little fucker just trying to get a nut. I’m working myself up, but I can’t stop it. I check my watch and see that her last class is done for the day. I looked up her schedule on the school computer system, memorizing it, and I know she should be nearly home. I grab my keys off my desk, having already made up my mind.

I bust out of the locker room and out on the field, and I see Coach Evans running Anderson. I give him a chin lift as I approach, and he walks over with his arms folded. “How many does he need?”

“Enough to make him remember what happened in there, but not enough that he can’t play tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.” Coach Evans turns back to the field and watches Anderson make a lap.

I go out to my truck and slam the door, cranking it up and hitting the gas. I’ve got to get to Megan. I’ve got to see her right this fucking second to calm this beast inside me.

I take the back roads to get to Phil and Janet’s house, driving as fast as I can. When I pull up to the driveway, I thank God neither of them is home. They shouldn’t be back for a few hours, but one can’t be too careful. I jump out and pass Megan's red Honda in the garage as I jog into the house to look for her. I blow through the kitchen and living room, taking the stairs two at a time. When I get to her door, I don’t bother knocking, I just push it open.

She’s standing there in a loose t-shirt that reads, ‘I run because Gandalf told me to’ and baggy cut-off shorts. She has a pencil through a messy bun in her hair, and her big glasses are nearly falling off the end of her nose. She’s more gorgeous every time I see her, and right now, I want nothing more than to take what someone said isn’t mine.

Kicking the door shut behind me, I reach back and lock it, just in case. She slowly backs away from me, until the backs of her legs hit her bed. I stalk towards her, my steps careful. I want her to see me coming. This isn’t sneaky and this isn’t a surprise; I came here to take her.

“Chris, what’s wrong?”

“That little prick Croy Anderson was spreading rumors about you two today, and I happened to overhear him.”

I take another step, and she tries back away further, but she’s run out of room.

“What did he say?” she asks, her eyes widening.