Page 5 of Vampire Pack

They were bad.

I could definitely feel that.

"You aren't fine."

"You're right. I'm not fine; I'm furious. You nearly killed two men for targeting me, and then you spent the end of the game screening me. I'm the fucking goalie. It's not your job to shove your enormous body in front of me like a fucking brick wall when I'm supposed to be⁠—"

He cut me off by catching my chin in his hand, and kissing me.

The kiss wasn't soft, or sweet, or gentle.

It was fury meeting fury. Rage meeting rage.

Heat meeting heat.

I should've pushed him away. Part of me knew that.

I'd been ignoring that part of me for five fucking years, though.

I was already slick between my thighs, anticipating what we both knew was coming next. He was hard against my lower belly.

So I kissed him back, just as brutally as he kissed me.

He walked me backward, until my shoulders met the lockers. The collision was gentle. Much more gentle than usual, for us.

I ripped my mouth from King's and growled, "Don't treat me like I'm made of glass."

"Then don't get hurt."

I yanked his mouth back to mine.

Our tongues moved together.

His hands were on my hips. Then on my ass.

I had his athletic shorts shoved down his thighs before he did the same with my leggings.

He dragged the thick head of his cock over my clit.

I hooked a leg around his hip, and he lined us up before I sank down over him.

The familiar stretch was fucking blissful.

The way he drove into me was even better.

Grabbing the backs of my thighs, he hauled me off my feet and pressed me into the lockers just a little harder, retaking my mouth. A cry of pain escaped me, and he snarled against my lips.

"I'm fine," I snarled back.

"You're not fine." He fucked me slowly.

Too slowly.

It set every nerve I had on fire. Made me burn, and arch, and dig my fingers into his shoulders.

"Don't treat me like glass," I said again, a little more breathless.

"Don't fucking get hurt," he gritted back.