Chapter 13
13
Jack
“ W hat the hell’s gotten into you?” Isaac huffed at me as we skated lines.
“Not fucking talking about it,” I muttered.
It was a week after the night at The Stacks when I’d threatened Dick Doyle, gotten into it with Aviva, and then called her a cumdumpster in front of everyone. Since that night, I’d thought about texting her—I’d already tracked down her number—but I’d been too busy with hockey practice and training. And, honestly, I felt a little dickish myself for going from forcing her to give me her virginity to humiliating her publicly, all in the same day. And although there was a part of me that wanted to blame her for it, since she’d been the one who’d pulled away when I’d softened toward her, I knew that was just victim blaming. Everything I’d done to her was on me.
The louder, stronger part of me was satisfied as fuck that I’d been first. Just like I’d told her, her virginity was mine, her pussy was mine, her whole body was mine—she was mine, period.
And I protect what’s mine.
But I hadn’t done a very good job of that, had I?
“Jack,” Isaac said harshly, pulling me out of my brooding.
Coach blew his whistle. “Feldman! Jones! What the hell are you two old ladies doing there, gabbing away?”
“Sorry Coach,” I said, immediately ashamed of letting him down—even for a second.
Coach had us doing a bag skate for the past hour, because he was paranoid that we weren’t ready for our first game of the season, which happened to be against Tabb. The game wasn’t for two weeks, but none of us were willing to start our season with a loss, least of all me.
“You’re full of shit,” Isaac said, usual dimples missing in action as we skated back and forth across the ice. “You’ve been distracted and moody—moodier than usual. And erratic as fuck. First you call that girl a,” he scowled, “a cumdumpster, which is one of the douchiest, foulest words in the English language?—”
“I don’t think it’s actually a word,” I interrupted, trying to seem casual even as my insides knotted. I refused to feel bad about it.
“Whatever,” he scoffed. “When you said you wanted to go to The Stacks that night, I was surprised because that’s not our spot. But nowhere as surprised as when you staked a claim and humiliated her in front of everyone. And then your mercurial ass warned us ‘if any of you call her that, I’ll make sure you ride the bench the entire season.’” Isaac imitated me.
I had done that. The idea of any of these bastards calling Aviva that made me sick .
“And since then,” Isaac continued, “you’ve barely spoken a word to any of us. So once again, I ask, what the hell has gotten into you ?”
I groaned. “Have you ever fucked a virgin?”
Isaac almost tripped over his skates. “Shit. Really?”
“Really,” I said.
He wiped sweat off his forehead, picking the pace back up as we sped back and forth from line to line. Football and basketball players thought they were the only ones who had it bad when they had to run suicides, but try doing it on skates. And nothing, absolutely nothing, was as brutal as one of Coach’s bag skates.
My body ached, my chest heaved, and I welcomed the exhaustion and pain. Anything to distract me from her. Every night, I’d gone to sleep imagining her smell, her taste. Every morning, I woke to the memory of her in my arms, her virgin cunt clenching around my cock. I felt guilty and angry and fucking confused as hell. No one had ever twisted me up like this before. No one had ever made me feel like this before. Obsessed, possessed, out of control. Like even I had no idea what I would do next.
Isaac was quiet for a moment. He got like that sometimes. Publicly, he was the life of the party: affable, charming, easygoing, talkative. Privately, he was quiet, studious, and not nearly as much of a fuck boy as he pretended to be.
Finally, he said, “I’ve never fucked a virgin because I don’t want the responsibility, and I don’t trust that I’d be careful enough. Treating her right—that’s important. And I’m taking it from last week’s show at The Stacks that you didn’t treat her right.”
“Not at all,” I admitted. “Although I didn’t fucking know. If I had…” I trailed off .
One of the assistant coaches blew his whistle. “Take five, get some water. And then get back to it.”
Groans all around. Isaac stopped skating but ignored them, focused on me.
“If you had, what. You would’ve been nicer to her?” he raised an eyebrow.
I ripped my gloves off, and then peeled my shirt, suddenly overheated. Because I wouldn’t have been. I still would have fucked her as hard, still would have subjected her to humiliation after she’d rejected my softer side.
“Fuck, man,” I groaned. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. And you don’t even know how it started, what she tried to do to us.”
Isaac had picked up a bottle of water and was about to chug it, but he paused.
“What she tried to do to us ?” he asked.
The same assistant coach blew his whistle again. “Alright, scrimmage time. First line against second line.”
More groans, this time from the younger guys on the team. The rest of us were used to being worked so hard.
And as team captain, it was my job to get their heads in the game.
“Listen up, all of you,” I said, shoving Aviva to the back of my mind and skating out in front of them. “We’ve got two weeks until the season starts. Now is not the time to be tired, to groan, to call home and whine about how hard Coach and the team is working you.”
I turned a circle on my skates, careful to look each player in the eye.
“If you’re worn out this early, you won’t make it through the season—and you don’t belong here. Get off the ice, turn in your jersey, and go play club hockey. Got me?”
Not a single one of them moved .
Good.
“Good,” I said out loud. “So you’re all here, and you’re agreeing to work. To commit. To put your all into the game, and the season, because your team is depending on you. Let’s play.”
Cheers broke out as I suited back up, relieved. My Aviva-related distraction hadn’t impacted my ability to lead my team, at least.
We lined up for the scrimmage. As Isaac skated past me to take his spot for the face-off, he patted my shoulder with his glove—hard enough that I could feel it through the pad.
“Nice work, captain. But the Aviva conversation? Isn’t over.”
After our line won the scrimmage, we headed back into the locker room. My throat went tight as my gaze fell on the cubby where I’d cornered her and put my hand around her neck, the bench where I’d tied her down and eaten her sweet pussy. She was everywhere, always; I couldn’t get away from her if I tried.
I didn’t want to get away from her. Ever since I’d spotted the blood on the condom and realized what it meant, I’d had the insane idea of permanently handcuffing her to me.
“Jack,” Isaac said.
He, Judah, and Levi crowded around me, Levi wiping off and putting his glasses back on, Judah pulling the elastic out of his hair and shaking it loose.
“Okay, Jason Momoa,” Levi mocked his twin.
“I’m hotter than Jason Momoa,” Judah protested. “Hotter than you, too. ”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “We’re identical twins, idiot.”
“I’m still hotter.”
Before they could start a slap fight, Isaac interrupted. “Stop it, you two. Jack here has something to tell us.”
Scratching my neck, I sighed. “It’s about Aviva.”
Judah snorted. “Of course it’s about Aviva. She’s the only girl you’ve ever staked a claim on, publicly, or threatened your teammates over.” He chuckled. “What, you like her or something?”
I shook my head. I didn’t fucking like her. “The opposite.”
“Sure doesn’t seem like the opposite.”
Isaac held up a hand. If I led by example and kept everyone in line and motivated, Isaac led by the nature of his calm focus and “good guy” status.
Judah and Levi shut up.
“Jack, why did you say ‘you don’t know what she tried to do to us’ earlier?”
I sighed. “You’re going to hate her for it as much as I did.”
As I started to tell them about what had happened between catching her in the locker room and now, they kept interrupting.
“Wait, so does she know how involved we are with Vice and Vixen?” Levi asked.
I shook my head. Of course they’d be concerned; Judah was the muscle, and Levi was the threat. “No, it’s not about Vice and Vixen, although I thought that originally, too. No, she’s Asher’s sister.”
“Shit,” Isaac said. “That’s fucked.”
“And,” I added, lowering my voice, “she was trying to frame Coach for,” I swallowed, the words almost getting stuck in my throat, “sexually abusing Asher. ”
“What the actual fuck,” Judah said.
Levi’s eyes narrowed and darkened, but he let his brother speak for him.
“What a fucking bitch,” Judah continued.
I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that Judah was my friend, and that punching him for calling Aviva a bitch was a bad call. Instead, I continued with my story, filling them in on blackmailing her for sex, and then blackmailing Professor Dylan Johnathan into letting me switch into the Deviant Psychology class so I could be?—
“Closer to her,” Isaac said.
“Keep an eye on her,” I corrected.
“Not sure making a virgin fuck you is ‘keeping an eye’ on someone, but your definition may be different than mine,” he said.
“I don’t understand what the hell you have over that guy,” Judah said.
“He’s one of Vice and Vixen’s number one buyers,” Levi told his brother.
And the second I got wind that his recreational sharing of it wasn’t consensual by both parties, I was going to kick his ass. It made me a hypocrite, but I didn’t give a fuck. As I’d once told Mason Calloway, there was a difference between drugging a girl to get your rocks off like a fucking incel, and using Vixen to get her to acknowledge how she really felt about you.
Which gave me an idea.
I finished my story, catching my friends up to now and then filled them in on my new plan.
“That’s fucked,” Isaac stated.
“It is.” Judah flashed a grin. “I like it. Let’s all show that bitch who she’s messing with.”
Don’t punch your friend in the face , I reminded myself .
“No,” Isaac said. “Jack, you do something like this—you can’t come back from it. Not with her, and not with yourself. Trust me. ”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but was distracted when Levi opened his mouth. “In fact, I think we should all have a turn with her.”
Judah laughed. “Sounds fun.”
None of you are fucking touching her. Not unless you want me to rip your hands off your bodies.
Isaac was right. What the hell had gotten into me?
But all I said was, “Maybe. If you fuckers behave.”
“Oh, we’ll behave,” Judah said, slapping his brother’s hand. “We’ll behave so hard, she won’t walk for a week.”
He held his hand up for Isaac, who refused, instead staring at me, not a dimple in sight.
“You sure about this, captain?”
“Positive,” I said, swallowing.
Because I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure about anything, not anymore.