Page 145 of Vicious Saint
I find Riggs and Leviathan at the back of the locker room, still half in uniform as they begin whistling and egging me on.
I flip them off all the way to the recovery room, where I enter with another violent swing of a door.
There Saint is, back to me in a huge, steaming walk-in shower, scrubbing his shoulders with a fucking loofa. “Now, now, Jimi. How many times do I have to tell you? If you wanna see my cock, all you have to do is ask.”
I pick up the nearest hard object, a football, and launch it.
“Fuck you.”
It strikes him on the back, but might as well not have, because he barely flinches. “Definitely what I prefer you to be doing.”
With determination leading my strides, I march over, kicking off my slides right before entering the shower. Steam blinds me, and my hair is already drenched from the showerhead.
Saint turns, throwing a very large wrench into my murderous plans.
Wrench equals cock.
I’m so taken aback by his size I have to catch my breath.
Long, veiny, thick.
And the crown at the tip? A perfectly proportioned lollipop.
The bitches here aren’t liars, I’ll give ’em that.
Saint’s dick is a work of magic.
His morality on the other hand...
Saint looks down at me, lips parted, dark hair stuck to his forehead as water cascades down his body. “I’d ask the famous question…but the look on your face is pretty obvious.”
Consider his pure arrogance my oxygen.
“Why’d you hurt Stevenson again?”
“He was touching you.”
“So what?”
“So what?” He drills me with a glare, still scrubbing. “You’re a Lavell now. That comes with commoner restrictions.”
The high temp from the shower’s no match for the blood beneath my skin. “First of all, I amnota Lavell. My mother is.”
Saint’s reddening face doesn’t stop him from eyeing the soaked cleavage spilling out of my sports bra. “Consider yourself privileged by association.”
“And Stevenson isnota commoner.”
“Fine.Loserby association.”
I shake him, hard, anger turning to outrage when he doesn’t try to fight back—because every bit of it surging my insidesneedshim to fight back.
Or else I know I’ll end up doing something stupid.
“Why’d you have to go and be an asshole again?! Huh?”
“You can’t provoke a lion, Jimi, then expect him not to attack.”
Once again, my emotions go haywire, but this time, instead of blinding rage, it’s hurt. Disappointment.
