Page 84 of The Striker
Shit. I don’t know what to say to that, not that he gives me much time to formulate a response.
He drags my leggings over my hips, his fingers hooking into the material of my panties and tugging them to my knees at the same time.
The cool autumn air kisses my backside, and heat burns through my chest.
“Gabriel Herrera, you are not screwing me outside behind the bleachers of our freaking university!”
His hands squeeze my bare ass, his hooded eyes never leaving mine. “Watch me.”
Panic courses through me, and I struggle in his arms. “Absolutely not,” I hiss, twisting free, but with my leggings still around my legs, I stumble forward onto my knees.
“This works too,” Gabriel chuckles darkly as he follows me to the ground.
“Gabe,” I blow my hair out of my face.
I hear the sound of his zipper and look back to see him pulling the hard length of his cock free.
“We are not doing this,” I tell him, my thighs clenching at the sight of him.
“Is this a hard line for you?” he asks, pressing the swollen head against my folds.
My brain short circuits, my breaths coming shorter and faster now.
Gabriel pushes an inch inside of me.
My mouth falls open. “Gabe—” My fingers curl into the soft grass, nails digging into the dirt.
“Is this a hard line for you, Cecilia? Tell me now.”
“I—” Fuck. I don’t know. It’s wrong, yet some part of me wants this. “We shouldn’t?—”
“I don’t give a shit about what we should or shouldn’t do,” he interrupts, his voice laced with anger. “I care about the fact that some asshole you went on a date with is trying to get back into something with you.”
“That’s not?—”
He doesn’t let me finish.
“And because you don’t seem to understand the seriousness of it, I plan on burying my dick so far up inside of you that the next time some asshole tries hitting on you, you’ll remember exactly who this pussy belongs to. Am I making myself clear?”
This is a volatile side of Gabriel that I should be wary of.
A possessive, division-one athlete side of him that refuses to lose no matter the game.
“Yes,” I force out, my voice breathless.
“Good. Now answer my fucking question. Is this a hard line for you?”
He’s mad. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. My core clenches, heat pooling between my thighs. And I don’t know what to make of it. I’m embarrassed by the desire I feel in this compromising position.
Without any real thought to what I’m doing, I press my hips back into him.
“No,” I admit, uncertain if any hard lines exist where Gabriel is concerned.
Anyone could stumble across us. All they’d have to do is walk over to this side of the field and they’d get an eyeful. But despite knowing that, it doesn’t stop me from giving in to him.
“Good,” he grunts.
A tendril of excitement and fear shoots through me. As much as I crave Gabriel’s touch, I don’t know what to expect when he’s like this. This is an entirely new side of Gabe. One he’s never shown me before.
