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Pucking Stepbrother (Devils of Sable Lakes #1.5) Chapter Four 80%
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Chapter Four

Nate

The college is easy enough to find, and as I drive through the fifteen- foot wrought iron front gates with the university crest in the center of the arch, it becomes apparent that everything in this town is pretentious. I ease my Dodge along the cobblestone drive up to the student parking and find a spot next to a brand-new dark purple Range Rover. Talk about opposites. After killing the engine, the deafening silence has me on edge. All I want to do is turn the car back on and drive the hell out of here, but I have nowhere else to go.

My hands grip the steering wheel, and it pulls at the dried cuts along my knuckles. Thoughts of my little sister circle through my head and knowing she’s safe for a while makes me less anxious, but I know that fucker will be back out soon, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. Sucking air deep into my lungs, I grab my phone and climb out of the car. A few days, I think to myself. Only a few days of this charade until I can get the fuck out of here.

Making my way to the main office building, I walk past the row of deep purple Range Rovers and wonder if there was a good deal on this color at the dealership. Climbing the stairs, the door to the office swings open as a faculty member exits and I grab it before it closes. I let the door slam shut behind me, and the receptionist looks up disapprovingly over her glasses. Her scrutinizing glare makes my anger spark as her gaze brushes over my exposed tattoos.

“Young man, we enter and exit buildings with some manners in this establishment,” she scoffs. “Now, how can I help you?” She pushes her glasses back up her nose and stares at me.

“I need my schedule.”

“A please will get you far in life. Your name?” Standing up out of her leather chair, she disappears out the back of the office.

“Nate Huntington.”

Returning with papers and a tote bag with the school emblem on it, she hands them to me over the desk. “Here you go, young man. Your login information, campus rules and a map are in here as well. Attend the Great Hall for orientation and enjoy your first day.” She dismisses me.

With the papers in hand, I head back outside, to start this shit show of a day. Glancing at the map, I work out which way to head for orientation and make my way there. Thoughts of just walking straight back out to my car and taking off again cross my mind, but I need to do this for my sister. I need to get it together, so I have a stable home for her to move into.

The Great Hall is a fucking gothic style church looking building with its ominous towers and slate gray stone fa?ade. Did the college pluck this from the hills of Romania and deposit it here? Raising my eyebrows and craning my neck as I walk through the ten-foot-tall wooden double doors, the space opens into a stunning architectural masterpiece. Carved pillars reach into arched windows decorated with stained glass. The dark polished floorboards gleam under the wrought iron candelabras and the soft glow of the lighting makes this place seem ethereal with a dark undertone. I know bad shit goes on in here, I can feel it crawling under my skin, scratching at me to let it in.

Students are already seated in the rows of pews, and I silently sit myself down in the very back row next to some random.

“Hey, fucking dope looking tatts, man.” The guy next to me speaks in a hushed tone, admiring my ink.

I glance at him. “Thanks. I’m Nate.”

“I’m Parker. Welcome to this hell hole, where the ice hockey freaks are gods and the rest of us are mere mortals.” He straightens up when the Dean clears his throat into the microphone.

The speech is short and sweet seeing as we’re all late comers. The dean drones on about the rules a little too much for my liking, this place seems stricter than the high school I just graduated from. I didn’t fit in there and I sure as hell know I won’t fit in here with all these regulations.

“See you around.” Parker nods before he stalks out of the hall.

“See ya.” I smile in return before I too head back outside.

Studying the map, I notice the sports stadiums are not far and my interest piques after Parker mentioned ice hockey. As I make my way down the long winding path, memories of being on the ice come crashing into me, making me pause for a moment. Heading further along, I’m convinced I’m lost when I turn the corner and there, a few yards in front of me, sits Sable Arena ice hockey rink. The not so subtle Sable Lakes Kings with the signature crown logo sits smack bang center and nearly takes up the whole top half of the building. This arena is a monster compared to what I’m used to back home.

Stalking forward with apprehension, I know I need to stay the fuck away from the ice, but it’s like my legs have taken on a mind of their own when I find myself entering the glass doors into the foyer. My mouth pops open at the sheer grandeur of this arena, with its massive screens overhanging the rink and the grandstand of purple and yellow seats. The foyer is filled with endless cabinets of trophies and photographs of past players and teams. The deep purple stains everything in this place, from the carpet to the signs for the restrooms.

Making my way down the ramp and toward the ice, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. A feeling I haven’t felt in a fucking long time. I lean against the glass and watch the team doing drills as their coach shouts at them from the center. I’m mesmerized by the fluid movements and am lost in my own thoughts when a player slams into the glass where I’m standing. The shock of it pulls me from my memories as I stare down at him letting whoever this fucker is know that his stupid stunt didn’t affect me in the slightest.

He pulls his helmet off and I realize it’s Asher when he slams his fist into the barrier aiming for my head. “Fuck off, freak,” he growls at me.

Winking at him and blowing him a kiss before he skates away garners me a flick of his middle finger and a poisonous glare. How cute. Of course, my asshole of a stepbrother is on the ice hockey team. That explains his bulky muscles and his no one can fuck with him attitude.

I decide on staying and watching practice. Knowing it will make Asher murderous, but also because as much as I don’t want to admit it, I miss being on the ice.

I sit down and pull out my phone, noticing I have a message from Charlotte. Rubbing my hands over my face before I open the text message, I’m hoping it’s not bad news about my little sister.

Charlotte

He’ll be in hospital for a while.

Me

Is Eb okay?

Charlotte

She is. He didn’t touch her. She misses you.

Me

Can you keep an eye on her, please?

Charlotte

Of course. My dad wiped the evidence, so you’re clear.

Me

Why can’t he put that fucker away for life?

Charlotte

You know it doesn’t work like that. Where are you?

Me

It doesn’t matter.

Charlotte

I miss you.

I don’t respond to her after that. I don’t need her thinking she’s something more than a hole to fuck and the way I am at the moment, she deserves better than what I can offer. My attention is snatched to the cheers and claps that echo across the rink as the ice skaters enter for their practice.

I ignore everyone’s enthusiasm and go back to scrolling on my phone, deciding hiding away here all day is a better option than going to orientation classes. I’m preoccupied playing a mind-numbing game on my phone when I feel the presence of someone standing behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Asher and a few of his teammates hovering over me.

“Got something you want to say, trailer park?” Asher’s harsh voice causes goosebumps to spread over my skin.

“Nope.” I turn back around, disinterested, and focus on my phone.

“I see that being talkative doesn’t run in the family. That mom of yours is always running her gold-digging whore mouth,” he chuckles, as the audible shock from his teammates echoes around me.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I reply, not giving a fuck what he says. It takes a lot more than that to rile me up. Fucking amateur.

“I heard your little half-sister likes big dicks in and around her mouth,” he laughs.

His words cause anger to ripple through me as my head pulses with adrenaline. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I try to control my seething rage, but I can’t stop myself. I stand and face the prick as he sizes me up, probably thinking this is going to be an easy fight. But this ice hockey playing, wannabe tough fuck doesn’t know that I fight dirty.

Without waiting for him to move, I take a swing and clock him on the side of his face. The instant ache in my knuckle’s rushes through my arm and into my shoulder as his head flings back and one of his teammates manages to catch him before he hits the ground. Coiling my fists, I watch his features morph into rage. His muscled arms wrap around me as he tackles me into the seats, making my back slam against the hard plastic. I let out a groan and I manage to dodge his fist, causing him to punch the plastic chair with all his force.

The fight is over before it starts. Asher is hauled back off me by his coach and told to walk it off. The coach holds out his hand to help me up, but I manage to get up on my own, brushing myself off and pretending like my whole back isn’t aching like a motherfucker

“Mr. Huntington, I’m coach Lenox. It’s a pity we meet under these circumstances, but here we are.” He drips with authority in his sharp suit, chiselled jaw, and don’t fuck with me glare. He looks younger than my dad and has slicked back dark brown hair and a set of dark eyes to match.

“Here we are.” I stare at him, waiting for him to send me out of the stadium.

“I don’t know your circumstances, young man. But I know you’re one of the best players from the southern district schools. I looked up your stats and I have to say I’m impressed.”

“Okay.” I try to pretend like this isn’t making me uncomfortable in front of the remaining team members.

“Practice is at seven in the morning sharp. I expect you to be there, you can borrow gear for all I care.” He places his palm on my chest as he takes a step away from me. “Don’t be late.” He gives me one tap before stalking away.

“Hey man, I’m Theo, the captain.” A blond guy holds out his hand for me to shake.

He has tattoos to rival mine and I instantly know I’m going to like this guy. “Hey. Nate.” I nod and shake his hand.

“I hear you’re now a part of our frat.” He looks at me carefully.

“Apparently. Seriously, dude, I’m only here for a little while until I get my shit sorted. I won’t cause you all any grief.”

“You better not,” he chuckles and then looks at me like he might gut me if I step out of line. “Just kidding. Look, I know you and Asher are now stepbrothers and he can fly off the handle all the fucking time, but if you abide by the house rules, I really don’t give a fuck if you two are at each other’s throats constantly. Just keep me out of it. Deal?”

“Yeah, man. Deal. Thanks for accepting me. I know the ins and outs of becoming a member and living in the house. I won’t break your house rules.”

“We’ve only allowed to reside there on one condition. You survive the entry tests.” He winks at me and his team mates all holler and punch the air.

“Great. Looking forward to it.” I raise my eyebrows in anticipation of what torture they’re going to inflict on me.

“Don’t be late for practice. Coach doesn’t take no for an answer, if you know what I mean.” Theo punches me in the arm, hard enough to send a warning, and stalks off with his teammates trailing behind him.

“Fuck,” I groan and drop back into the seat. The last thing I want is to be on the ice hockey team, but maybe the distraction will be good. Getting pummeled and used at the team’s punching bag might make my time here go a little faster.

I’m mentally and physically exhausted; all I want to do is crawl under a cover and sleep for a week. I must doze off thanks to not fucking sleeping properly the last few nights and I’m jolted awake by being flung back into the chair and held down while my wrists are tied behind me.

“Wakey, wakey, big boy.” Asher’s voice fills my ears, and his ice hockey helmet covered face comes into view as I struggle against the restraints. His face hovers inches from mine and I can’t help but think about how good his full lips would look wrapped around my cock.

Trying to move my legs to kick him away from me, I realise the sneaky fuckers have already tied my ankles to the chair while I was asleep. “Fuck you.” I spit at him.

A depraved grin spreads across his face. “Nuh-uh, that’s not how we treat our siblings.” He stands at full height, and I notice he’s in his shoulder pads and hockey training pants still and no shirt. Saliva pools in my mouth at the sight of his muscles as he flexes his biceps in front of me.

“What the fuck do you want?” I jerk my legs and arms again in the hopes I’ll loosen the ties, but it’s useless, the restraints are too tight. Glancing around, I see that a few of the team are watching and there’s a few guys I’ve never seen before standing around watching.

He straightens and taps his finger on his helmet as though he’s thinking this through. His zipper is at my eye level, and I can’t help but stare at his bulge through his tight pants. Licking my lips as thoughts of bending him over the railing circle through my depraved mind, I watch in fascination as he adjusts himself in his pants and bends back down to look me in the eyes.

“Is that what you want, trailer trash? A dicking from the elite?” He gropes his dick in his large hand again and squeezes his bulge in front of my face, cocking his thick eyebrow, watching my reaction.

My dick hardens in my pants at the sight of his hands on himself, and I allow my gaze to roam over his muscled body until it collides with his caustic glare. Narrowing my eyes at him, knowing fully well his glare hides his true needs. “You’re too scared, puck boy.” I tease, testing what will finally make him snap.

Gripping my hair in his fist he throws my head back aggressively, my shoulder blades arching backward over the back of the chair, sending shooting pains through me.

“Move him onto the ice,” he winks at me and steps back as three of the guys I’ve not met yet rip the chair I’m tied to from the bolts in the floor and carry me down onto the ice. They place me in the center under the big screens and walk back off the ice and out the exit.

Watching as the ice hockey captain grabs Asher at the nape of the neck, bumping his forehead to Asher’s helmet, before stalking out of the building with the rest of the guys, has me on edge. The lights switch off in the whole of the stadium, apart from the one spotlight above me. The amber glow barely illuminates the area around me, and I squint to see if Asher left with them.

“Fucking piss weak hazing, you amateurs,” I shout into the cold air. I can feel the cool of the ice slowly permeating my clothes and I know all too well that the thermostat has been turned up to ensure the ice is kept frozen overnight. Fucking great.

I hear a chuckle behind me, and I crane my neck to see Asher approaching with a hockey stick. “Piss weak, hey?” He drops the puck onto the ice and smashes it at me, the brutal force of it hitting me in the side of my leg.

“Is that all you got? I can stay here all night, baby.” I smile through the pain.

Retrieving the puck, he saunters back to me, never missing his foot holds on the ice. You can tell when a player has grown up in the rink and I know for a fact this privileged fucktard would have had the best of everything growing up. The most expensive gear and the best coaches, but one thing he doesn’t have is the mongrel to be the best and the brutality to win no matter what.

Leaning down, he grips my jaw in his large hand and squeezes hard until my mouth drops open, shoving the puck in as far as he can. “No more talking.”

He circles me once, twice, three times before he swipes hard into my ankle. The sheer pain explodes up my leg and I groan out in agony, biting down onto the puck.

“I’m supposed to carry out this hazing, but I think it’s a little too boring and not enough pain for the likes of you.” He slaps the side of my face, the noise echoing through the silence, causing the puck to fall from my lips.

“Do you have a vagina with how girly that slap was? My cock would do more damage.” I spit at him, anger combined with desire snaking through my veins.

Stepping forward so he’s right in my face, he drops the hockey stick and glares down at me. “Is that so, big boy?” He begins to unbutton his pants, pulling out his hard dick and fisting it in front of my face. “You’ll never have this, you fucking faggot,” he says coldly as his hand pumps faster. His dark gaze settles on mine, sparking a fire behind his blue eyes.

I can see his restraint slowly slipping as precum beads on the head of his dick. With his eyes closed and being lost in the feeling of stroking himself, I move forward and let my tongue come in contact with the tip of his cock, licking the precum off.

“Fuck,” a strangled groan escapes his lips, and he jumps back, startled and dazed. His eyes bulge as he glares down at me in disgust, but behind the anger in his hooded eyes, I can see tendrils of raw need and twisted desire as the war inside him rages.

“I know you fucking loved it.” A wicked smile dances across my smug face as I lick my lips clean and stare up at him, daring him to deny it.

Lunging forward he grips my hair and yanks me forward so the ties binding my wrists together pull and dig into my flesh. “Open your fucking mouth, big boy,” he growls, moving my face so I have to stare up at him before he presses the tip of his cock to my lips.

My eyes widen at his sudden ferocity, and it makes my dick twitch against my pants. I open my mouth slightly not expecting what comes next. Asher slams his dick into my mouth hitting the back of my throat. His fingers digging into my hair, making it pull at my scalp.

Hissed moans vibrate through his lips, and I gaze up to see every guy’s wet dream standing before me. The hot as fuck ice hockey player about to come undone from my mouth. Thrusting into my mouth in rough strokes, his movements are almost violent as his cock thickens with each stroke.

Wrapping my lips around his length, I let him assault my mouth as images of letting me do this to him willingly circle in my brain. I swallow his precum mixed with my saliva knowing he’ll like the constriction of my throat around the head of his dick. My hard cock throbs and presses against my pants needing release. He tastes so fucking good and like my pending conquest. Moaning as his thrusts start to quicken, knowing he’s close and about to hate me even more after this, I make sure I look up at him as he holds me still.

“Fuck…” He curses with his head thrown back in ecstasy as he slows his movements slightly.

My eyes lock on his as he looks back down at me, his hand still fisting my hair, and his legs beginning to shake. I slurp and moan as much as his thick cock allows me, allowing him to test my mouth, an unfamiliar feeling for him, I’m sure. I feel his body tremble as he picks up his pace again in long hard strokes.

The pain from his tight grip on my hair prickles my scalp and sends salacious desires straight to my rock-hard dick as I rock my hips in search of some release. My stomach muscles tighten as he thrusts between my lips making my cock throb in my pants and precum to ooze out and wet my boxers.

“Holy fuck,” Asher groans like a wild beast as I milk his release. He shoots streams of hot cum into the back of my throat, the salty taste coating my tongue.

He steps back away from me and bends over gasping for air, his semi hard dick bobbing in the icy air covered in my saliva.

Watching him, I lean back in the chair, waiting for him to come to his senses and unleash hell on me for making him succumb to his darkest desires. The grin that tugs the corner of my mouth is predatory when he finally looks at me again.

His breaths even out before he shoves his cock back into his boxers, his fingers trembling as he zips up his pants. White hot rage burns in his eyes as our gazes fight each other. Cocking an eyebrow and smirking at him when he steps toward me, careful not to touch me again.

“You breathe a word of this to anyone, and you’re fucking dead. I’ll have your ass in juvie before you can blink. There’s no one to save you here, trailer trash,” he growls at me. I love seeing the hatred and wonder in his stare.

Before I can try to flinch out of the way, his clenched fist collides with the side of my face sending a white flash of light across my vision. My head flings sideways, nearly tipping over the chair. An instant high-pitched noise rings in my ear, and the splitting pain rocks through my head as Asher storms away across the ice.

“Come and get it anytime!” I shout after him in a fog of neediness as he escapes and leaves me on my own, still restrained to the chair with a raging hard-on.

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