Chapter 21
21
Jack
I was starting to think of life as Before Aviva and After Aviva. Before Aviva, I rarely got angry. Micah said that anger was a wasted emotion, and I agreed. But ever since I’d met her, anger had become an unwelcome companion. Before Aviva, I never felt possessive or territorial. Now, my body was consumed with the need to mark her, brand her, prove to the world—and her—that she belonged to me.
And make sure creepy fucks like Dylan Johnathan kept their goddamn hands off of her.
Somehow, even with my mind as fucked as it was, we managed to win the game. As the team celebrated, I looked up at the stands. Aviva was gone.
Hell no.
I followed the team back into the locker room. I saw her everywhere; on her knees in front of me, on the bench as I ate her. Would I ever be able to be in here without remembering that first time with her ?
Fuck. I missed her. I’d changed partners in psych class partially to punish her, and mostly to get a response out of her. I barely had, of course, because Aviva wasn’t the type to let something like embarrassment or rejection distract her from what was important to her. Namely, her brother.
What would it feel like, to be that important to her?
“Jack.” Isaac shoved me. “Wake the hell up.”
“She was sitting with him, ” I said.
“I know. The whole fucking school knows, plus everyone from Tabb will hear about this soon. You know Mason and Emory can’t keep their damn mouths shut. We’ll handle Dylan Johnathan. But you realize everyone now knows you have a weakness, right?”
“Bullshit.”
He shook his head. “You literally yelled mine in front of the whole arena. You may as well have stood with your back to a firing squad. You’re fucked. And if you’re fucked, it means we’re all fucked.”
I rubbed my face in my hands. He was right.
“So what the hell do I do?”
“Go fuck her until she can’t see straight and you get your equilibrium back,” Judah said, coming up behind us and slapping me on the shoulder.
Isaac groaned. “I was going to suggest apologizing. ”
“I don’t even know where she went,” I growled.
Judah laughed. “You might want to do something about that in the future. For now, you don’t have to worry. We asked Mason to stall her.”
“He agreed?”
Levi gave me a pointed look. “Says he owes you.”
He did. I was the reason he and Leslie were together, after all. And I’d delivered some much-needed advice at the right time. The least he could do was keep Aviva right where I wanted her.
“Feldman!” Coach stomped into the locker room. “My office. NOW.”
Shit.
Levi cleaned off his glasses before putting them back on and staring at me. “How are you going to handle this?”
I groaned. Some of my anger had left me. “No idea.”
I followed Coach into his office, closing the door behind me, aware the rest of our team could see me.
“What the hell got into you, Jack?” Coach asked.
I shook my head. I could feel how disappointed he was in me, and I hated it.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He snorted. “Well, that’s great. I can tell the scouts who were here to see you, the administration, ‘sorry, no idea what happened, or why our usually level-headed star player almost beat up his own goalie and then threatened a tenured professor.’”
“He’s not tenured,” I muttered. And he wouldn’t be getting tenure when I was done with him.
Coach shook his head. “What has gotten into you? Is it that girl? How many times have I told you not to let a girl get in the way of your goals and dreams? You’ve worked too hard for this, Jack. Your whole team has. I have. Don’t let us all down because you want someone. There will be plenty of that later. Trust me. ”
I swallowed.
He sighed. “I’m only doing this to help you. Now, go shower and clear your head.”
With that, he pointed to the door, and I exited without saying anything else .
Oh, I was going to clear my head alright. And I knew exactly how.
I quickly showered and dressed. Before I left the locker room, I texted in a favor, then grabbed something out of Dave’s locker and some stuff out of my hockey bag.
Outside the locker room, Aviva stood with Tovah, both looking bemused as Mason, his fiance, Leslie, and her best friend, Lucy, stood in front of her, Lucy chattering away as Mason smirked and Leslie placed a soft but restraining hand on Aviva’s arm, keeping my princess from running off.
Mason caught my eye, and nodded. Once.
I nodded back.
Debt paid , the motion meant.
“Butterfly,” Mason said, grabbing his fiance’s hand where her ring glittered in the hallway’s bright halogen lights. My eyes caught on the ring, and some inexplicable, undefinable emotion slammed into me as hard as I’d slammed into the boards earlier.
An image came to me—a big, glittering diamond on Aviva’s finger.
A mark.
A brand.
A claim.
Jesus fucking Christ, what was wrong with me? I wanted to own her pussy, I didn’t want to marry her. Coach was right; she’d dug her way into my head. I needed my equilibrium back. My power back. Control back.
But I forgot all about power and control when Aviva turned toward me, fire making her brown eyes turn gold. I expected a deer in headlights look; instead, she raised an eyebrow, daring me.
But of course she wouldn’t look like a deer in headlights. Aviva’s strength, her ability to hold her own in front of me, no matter what I did to her, was one of the things I lo?—
What the fuck?
I stuttered over the word that had appeared in my brain. I loved nothing about her. I wanted her submission and my power back, and I was going to get both.
“Aviva,” I growled.
Aviva raised her chin.
Walking forward, I grabbed her around the wrist.
“Leslie, Lucy, Tovah. Mason. If you’ll excuse us.” To Aviva I said, “We’re leaving.”
“Uh, no you’re not,” Tovah argued. “She’s not going anywhere with you Jack Feldman, I swear to god?—”
“It’s fine, Tovah,” Aviva interrupted, not taking her eyes off me. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“You better be,” Tovah muttered.
I ignored their conversation, grabbing Aviva’s elbow, then dragging her down the tunnel, back to the rink.
“Jack!” she protested.
I drew up short. The fucker had squeezed her elbow; I could still see it. “Did he hurt you?”
Her eyes widened. “Who?”
“Dylan Johnathan.”
“Oh.” She exhaled. “No. He—no. Is that all?”
I thought it would relax me, hearing that she was okay.
It didn’t.
“Come on.” I started dragging her again, this time by her hand.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Teaching you a lesson you won’t forget.”
The ice was dark and empty, like I’d asked. Even without my skates, I moved easily. Aviva didn’t. Although I had my hand on her wrist, she slipped and stumbled, until I had no choice to scoop her up and carry her across the rink to the single goalie net left. Beside it was my stick. I’d used this stick for a number of checks, assists, wins—even in fights. But I’d never used it the way I planned to tonight.
Depositing her on the ice, I turned her so she was facing the net, ripping the netting and wrapping it around her wrists until she was trapped, a fly in my web. They’d have to replace the net, but I didn’t care.
I unbuttoned her jeans, lowering them and her black panties to her ankles, trapping her even further. Seeing her, bare, helpless to do anything but take what I gave her made my cock go stiff and hard, so quickly it almost hurt.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” she started.
“Quiet.” The word smacked against the ice, echoing in the huge arena.
Shocked, she shut up.
I stroked my right hand up her hips, the sides of her ribs, to the front of the jersey that still pissed me off. Locating the Swiss Army knife in my pocket with my left hand, I opened it, gripped the front, and started cutting.
That got her talking again. “Jack, what the actual fuck, I swear to god I’m gonna?—”
Nope, couldn’t have that. I quickly sliced through the tough polyester, all the way down, careful not to cut her pretty skin, until it hung open over her arms.
Bending down, I sliced through the leg holes of her panties. Once they were free, I balled them up and shoved them in her mouth. She tried to talk around them, to spit them out, but I’d stuffed them so deep, all she could do was mumble around them.
Much better.
Returning to my original task, I finished cutting the jersey, slicing through the sleeves, until it fell off her body, revealing another high-necked tank top. Mostly satisfied, I picked up the pieces, walking around to the other side of the net, facing her.
Time for the next step.
Anticipation filling me, I stood in front of her and slowly sliced the jersey into ribbons. The knife slipped, cutting my thumb. Blood dripped onto the jersey, and my thumb burned where I’d cut it, the copper scent making me slightly nauseous, but I didn’t care. My eyes were on Aviva’s, which flashed a brighter fire than they had before.
“This is what will happen if you ever wear someone else’s jersey again. From now on, when you come to my games, you wear my jersey, and only mine. Disobey me, and I’ll slice up something worse.” Like the player whose number she wore. “Got me?”
She yelled something through her balled-up panties, but they were an effective gag.
I let the warning sink in for a moment as the tiny pieces of nylon and polyester fluttered to the ground. She fell silent, watching as they gathered in a pathetic heap. Finally satisfied, I flicked the Swiss Army knife shut and dropped it on the ice.
Time for lesson two.
Picking my stick up off the floor, I tested it, taking a few practice swings. I’d never used it for this purpose before, so I had to make sure I got the angle and momentum right. I wanted to bruise her, not break her.
That was new. Before all I’d wanted was to break her.
Shaking my head, I zeroed in on my target. Her ass was round and juicy, framed by the dimples on her thighs. Pale, pink, and just begging for what came next .
“This is going to hurt, princess,” I warned her, and then swung.
Thwack.
The blade heel made direct contact with her ass. The sound it made was satisfying, but nowhere near as satisfying as Aviva’s shocked scream.
I pulled back and swung again.
Thwack.
Another shriek, partially muted by the gag.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
My cock, already stiff from seeing her bare body, grew so hard it hurt. Seeing her cheeks turn red, hearing her cries and screams, was maybe the hottest fucking thing I’d ever experienced in my life so far—and I’d seen her gagging around my cock.
Thwack.
Thwack.
“Jack, no, no, stop, please—” she tried to beg around the panties.
“Fuck,” I groaned, pausing to adjust myself. “Keep begging, princess. See where it gets you.”
Thwack.
Thwack.
I got lost in the moment as her screams echoed in the cavernous arena, grounded by the cold scent of ice, the sense of invisible spectators witnessing her punishment. Everything about this girl was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced, and I was going to take her so much further into the dark, neither of us would ever find our way out.
Pausing again, I stepped closer, inhaling the scent of apples, honey, and … wet pussy. Caressing the heat of her reddened ass, I shoved my hand between her squeezed-shut thighs and slid my fingers over her cunt.
“Soaked,” I groaned into her ear. “Who knew you were such a slut for pain, princess? Don’t worry, there’s more coming.”
She shook her head wildly, rejecting the truth. I drew circles around her clit, part punishment, part reward.
Before I could think better of it, I dropped a kiss on her spine before backing up and continuing our session. I didn’t think she could take much more—her begging had turned to hiccups and sobs, and her ass was so red, I was almost concerned. Almost.
“Every time you try to sit for the next week, you’ll think of me, won’t you, little thief? Remember that you’re going to wear my jersey from now on, and my jersey alone?”
Thwack.
She sobbed some more.
“Say you’re sorry, Aviva.”
She shook her head, her shoulders rigid and straight.
Thwack.
“Say it, or we’ll go all night, until the Zamboni driver shows up in the morning and sees you like this.”
I raised my stick again, ready to continue?—
She mumbled something through the panties. It sounded like “I’m sorry.”
Good enough.
Dropping the stick, I fished the small bottle of lube out of my pocket, because one could never be too prepared. When I reached her, I reached around her hip, playing with her pussy for a bit, gratified by her helpless moans and the way need and lust ran down her thighs and my fingers. Sticking them in my mouth, I licked the taste of her off them, temporarily tempted to eat her out. But I had bigger, better plans.
Pulling down my sweats, I popped open the bottle and squeezed lube onto my hand. I fisted my cock in my hand, spreading the lube everywhere.
“You’re lucky,” I told her. “I considered fucking this virgin ass without aid. Say, thank you, Jack .”
She turned her head toward me, eyes wide with anger, fear—and yes, need. She wanted this, my greedy, slutty little thing. She’d never been taken this way, but she wanted to be taken by me.
And even if she didn’t…
I squeezed more lube on my fingers, before slowly pushing a finger into her virgin ass. Greeted by tight heat, I stretched her out as best as I could, then slid in a second finger, then a third. A low, desperate moan escaped her, music to my ears and my angry cock, that wanted to skip the preparation and be inside her now.
“It’s time, princess,” I told her as I lined my cock up with her delectable, untried asshole and slowly pushed inside.
Heat and pressure from her tight hole greeted me—and a feeling so insanely good, I forgot how to fucking breathe. I could usually take or leave anal, but as I continued to push deep inside Aviva, as she cried out around her panties, half in pain, half in pleasure, I decided that I was going to take it.
And take it.
And take it.
I was the only one. No one had ever had her this way before. Not that jackass Tom she’d dated, not anyone else. And no one else would ever have her this way. Not Dave Lawson, and certainly not Dylan Johnathan. Me. Only me.
Her asshole resisted my slow slide inside. It wanted me gone as much as its owner did. But that wasn’t right. I was its owner now. I was her owner now. And like Aviva, her ass would stop fighting me at some point, would discover how good it felt in to give in to me.
“Never,” Aviva groaned against the panties.
At first, I thought she was saying no, but then realized that I’d spoken out loud. I was so caught up in how good being inside her sweet, tight ass felt, I’d lost control of my words.
Oh, well. She might as well hear the rest.
Gripping her hip to hold her in place, I narrated all of my thoughts to her, no matter how filthy or cruel, tender or vulnerable. I told her how good she felt, how hot, how tight.
How her ass gripped me so hard, it was almost painful.
How I wasn’t even the whole way inside her, and I already wanted to come.
How I was going to fill her slutty ass with so much come, it would drip out of her for days.
How everyone would smell it on her and know exactly what had happened—and that she liked it.
How obvious it was that she liked it, my little pain slut; I could hear it in her moans, feel it in the way her body trembled, see it as her pussy grew sloppier and wetter the deeper I got.
How knowing I was the first one here was so satisfying, I didn’t have a word for it, only a feeling in my bones and chest, a feeling that made a home for itself, permanently.
How I was going to be the motherfucking last person she’d ever feel here. How I’d kill anyone else who even tried.
How I couldn’t imagine ever fucking anyone else, not after I’d had her.
How she was it for me .
I barely heard a word I said to her. I was listening to her moans, not the nonsense spewing from my mouth.
Finally, I bottomed out, my balls resting against her pussy.
“You’re mine, you fucking lying thieving beautiful brilliant sweet perfect little bitch,” I told her in one shallow breath. I needed more, to thrust, to feel her bare skin against mine. I ripped my hoodie and tee off my body, not giving a fuck where they fell, so I could layer my chest against her back.
I ripped the panties out of her mouth, too, needing to hear her as I pulled back and thrust back in.
“I hate you,” she said on a guttural moan.
I kissed her neck, shushed her. “I know, princess, I know. I hate you, too.”
“I hate how much I want you. How I can’t get you out of my head. How you’ve burrowed so deep inside my skin, I’m worried I’ll never get you out. I hate that when you do let me go, you’ll still haunt me forever, and I hate how much I’ll always wish you’d kept me.”
Triumph filled me at her words, at the proof that I wasn’t alone in this insane obsession, this need to be close to her forever. I stroked her hair. “I’ll never let you go.”
I released her, moving one of my hands to grip her soft belly. My other traced down the silky curls covering her pussy until I reached her clit. As I began to stroke figure eights on her clit—the eternity symbol—I continued thrusting, picking up my pace to match her guttural moans as she fought the ropes around her wrists, the jeans around her ankles. Fought, and lost.
And then finally, finally, submitted. She stopped fighting, relaxing into my arms, her moans no longer angry, but begging .
“Doesn’t it feel good to give in?” My voice was deep. I was hanging on for dear fucking life, my balls like rocks, spine hot with the need to come.
“Yes,” she moaned.
God, hearing the word yes from her made my cock so fucking hard, harder than I’d ever thought possible.
“You’re going to come for me, Aviva. You’re going to come, and I’m going to come, too, and fill you all the way up, mark you, own you.”
“Jack, oh god, Jack,” she cried.
Hearing my name on her lips was the last straw. Any remaining control I had snapped, and I powered into her, skin slapping against skin, words tumbling out of me once again, abandoning the figure eights to start spanking her directly on her clit because you’re going to fucking come for me, damn it, this pussy was made for me, it’s mine, and it’s going to come so hard for it’s master ? —
With a shriek so loud it bounced off the walls, she came, her ass clenching around my cock so tight it ripped the orgasm right out of me. I roared my release, my relief, vision blurring until all I saw was her, just her, only her, would only see her for the rest of our goddamned lives, you hear me, Aviva? This is fucking it for you, for both of us, goddamnit what the fuck have you done to me ? —
—mine— I think she cried in response. You’re mine too, Jack…
Come poured out of me for what felt like forever, until finally I slumped over her, exhausted and satisfied. She slumped over too, against the net, and the entire contraption slid forward. My reflexes kicked in and I caught her around the waist before she fell headfirst into the ice. Reluctant to pull out of her, I stayed where I was as my cock softened, reaching around her to untie her wrists from the net and rub them gently to bring feeling back into them.
Aviva was quiet, trembling, probably cold from the ice because she didn’t spend time out here like I did.
Finally, I pulled out, watching with unreserved glee as my words came true, my come dripping out of her ass and onto the ice.
“Do you think the Zamboni driver will notice?” I asked her, not even to be a dick, but because my brain had abandoned my body and my thoughts had become pure nonsense, like I was high for the first time in my life.
Hell, maybe I was. Had I ever experienced anything like that before? I’d know, right?
I dragged her jeans up over her legs and her bare pussy, before locating my hoodie, dusting off the ice shavings, and pulling it over her head. Aviva, for her part, didn’t fight me, but submitted as I did my best to cover and warm her, before lifting her into my arms my favorite way and carefully walking us over to the penalty box. Sitting down on the bench with her in my lap, I cradled her in my arms, contenting myself with the smell of her hair and the way she burrowed into me, like I wasn’t her worst enemy, but her protector.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” I murmured. “I’ve got you, Aviva. I’m here, princess, I’m here.”
She settled into my arms, sighing, soft and sweet and overwhelmed. I kissed the tears on her face, my heart in my throat at how overcome she was, because after all, I felt the same way.
This woman was amazing, and she was mine.
What’s more, I was hers.
I felt her slowly relax as she cuddled closer. Satisfaction filled me that I could do this for her. My brother thought I didn’t understand aftercare? Bullshit.
I may have still hated her, but I’d meant every unhinged thing I’d said to her out there on the ice. I’d broken her, and I’d put her back together.
We stayed like that for a while, and I lost track of time, soothed by the feeling of her in my arms, the sensation of caring for her, protecting her from the world, from everything and everyone but me.
I could’ve stayed that way forever.
“Jack?” she finally said, voice sweet as she reached up her small hand and gently cupped my face.
I nuzzled into her soft palm. “Yeah, princess?”
The sting was as sudden as the sound.
She’d slapped me. Again.
Temporarily shocked, I released her. “What the actual fuck, Aviva?”
“What, you think you can force your cock into my ass and then cuddle me and I’ll be okay with it? That some soft words and touches erase every horrible thing you’ve done to me? Fuck you, Jack Feldman. Truly, go fuck yourself. Because you won’t be fucking me, ever again. I’m not yours. You don’t deserve me.”
Her words ripped right into me, shattering my chest, my bones, destroying that feeling from earlier, the one I hadn’t been able to name.
I knocked her from my lap, and when she thudded to the floor, I hated myself almost as much as I hated her.
“Sounds good, princess. It’s been fun, but it’s time for me to find a new toy. This one’s…used.”
I rose to my feet, determined to leave her there, to do exactly what I’d said. I stumbled more than walked off the ice, down the tunnel and back into the locker room, grabbing my stuff and heading to my car so I could get home and shower this whole fucked up experience off of me.
When I got to my car, I sat in the dark with my headlights off, waiting for her to leave, and then following her home to make sure she got inside her apartment safely.
I’d become a motherfucking simp for my enemy.
I hadn’t succeeded in breaking Aviva.
But she’d succeeded in breaking me.