Page 5 of Ruthless Game

Jack: And you’re absolutely certain you want to take this route?

I swallowed. There was a small voice in my head, warning me like Jack was—that once I started in this direction, there’d be no reversing.

But that was the boy in me, and he was long dead.

Lawson: Absolutely

Jack: Give me a bit.

I left the locker room and arena, getting in my truck and driving back to the hockey house. As I parked outside, a text came in.

Jack: Her brother, Jeffrey. He’s been using performance enhancing drugs for hockey.

He’s also been bribing his professors for better grades.

Shocked, I stared at my phone. Jeffrey had always been the golden boy: excellent grades, never used drugs. The perfect son to his parents, like he didn’t take everything he’d been handed for granted.

Apparently I was wrong about him.

Lawson: How do you know this

Jack: None of your business. But if the NCAA finds out …

Lawson: … His hockey career is over

Jack: So is his college career.

And his parents would disown him.

That was my way in. Emma would do anything to protect her brother, even get on her knees, her back, sit on my face, let me choke her with my cock, and finally, finally, fuck her.

Lawson: Thanks man

Jack: Don’t mention it. Seriously. If Aviva knew I was helping you fuck over some girl so you could fuck her, she’d have my balls.

Oof. My dick agreed with this protective measure, even though a part of me replayed Jack’s words.

There’s no going back.

I didn’t like being an asshole. Unlike most weird, intense goalies, I was an easy-going, likeable person, a decent guy. But there was so much pent-up rage when it came to Emma, I didn’t care that I was abandoning my own moral compass. Not if it meant I could still play hockey.

And no longer be haunted by her.

I pulled up the flights app on my phone. My brand sponsorship money would cover my round-trip ticket to the UK—as well as a one-way ticket for Emma from the UK to New York.

I was bringing Emma home. And keeping her here until I was done with her, and she was nothing but a broken, sobbing, naked and soaked mess.

And I’d finally be free.

2

Lawson

(Then)

“You best fucking behave. Don’t make me look bad,” my father threatened from the front seat of his shitty old truck as we pulled up to the huge yellow house with the green shutters that I’d be living in for the next two hockey seasons.

I was done with his stupid threats, his drunken swings. Getting into Gehenom’s high school hockey program meant better support and more visibility to scouts. Just as important, being taken in by a host family was my first glimpse of freedom from the waste-of-space, wannabe-tyrant who also happened to be my sperm donor and the person who was supposed to sign my report cards.