“So you have your little piece of information,” he says, peering at me. “But are you going to tell your frat bros whatyoudid to me?”
I need to get him the hell off of me.
If he moves his ass a little lower, there’s a risk that he’ll feel how hard my cock is, just from this.
Hecannotknow he has that kind of power over me.
I struggle underneath him. “Get off of me.”
“Hey!” I hear Weston shout, and I see his arm come down around Niko’s torso, trying to pull him off.
Niko is uncontrollable, though.
He leans close to my ear again, talking so near to me that nobody can hear him above the bassy music.
“Do they know you fucking drugged me at our final game? Slipped that molly in my electrolytes because you just had to get your win? Made it impossible to play hockey, Ashford.”
He really still thinks it’s true.
It’s bad blood from nearly a year ago, and he’s still convinced I was the one who drugged him. Whoever the fuck dosed him with ecstasy during the final game of the season caused him tolosethe game, to me.
He acted like I was the one who did it.
Both of us knew I didn’t. I had no access to drugs. Even if I did, I would never drug anyone for any reason.
But… the molly also made him say things to me, after the game. Things I will never forget. And that’s just another reason he’s straddled over me now like he wants to rip me apart.
He finally removes his hands from my arms.
My skin stings a little where he was holding me down,and the pain feels like its own little prize. Maybe it means something’s deeply fucking wrong with me, but I’ve always welcomed certain kinds of pain, on the hockey rink, in the gym, or anywhere else. It can make me feel like I’m alive in some fucked up way, after being a wallflower for the greater part of my life.
Pain, pleasure… any of it.
I just always want more.
Niko manages to grip my wrist tight one more time before Roman’s hand closes around him, prying his hands off of me.
Weston’s hands wrap around his torso again and together they pull him off.
Niko’s gaze stays trained on me even as they hold him back.
“Are you okay, Ollie?” Weston asks, clearly panicking a little.
Weston’s been looking forward to tonight, after all, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the half-brother he never knew is like a rabid animal.
“I’m fine,” I tell Wes as I sit up, massaging the raw spot on my wrist and then reaching up to brush my fingers along my jaw.
Someone holds a hand out to help me up and I stand, pulling in a breath and trying to center myself.
“That isn’t going to fucking fly here, Niko,” Wes tells him.
I step out and tap his arm that’s still restraining Niko. “Weston, it’s okay. This is just leftover beef from when we used to play hockey.”
“Looked like a lot more than just hockey beef.”
Yeah.
It’s a whole lot more.
