Page 12 of Ice Me Out

“I don’t think so. Guys, take care of these two pretty boys,” he laughs. “I’m gonna take this pretty piece of meat to the bathroom and warm her up for you.” His hips move suggestively, grinding against Bex’s ass.

I know I don’t have exactly the best reputation on campus. I know my name is written on some of the campus’s gossip sites in unflattering terms. People can say whatever the fuck they want about me. I never promise what I don’t intend to deliver, and most of all, I respect the word “no.”

Consent is non negotiable for me. The second a woman says no, I walk away, no questions asked.

Watching someone treat and call a woman a piece of meat makes me fucking furious.

I move so fast that one of the two guys behind the one who’s manhandling Bex doesn’t even know what hit him.

My fingers tangle at the base of his greasy ponytail and I shove his head down against the table he and his friends claim they have a right to.

The noise of his nose breaking against the wood is more satisfying than smashing an opponent against the boards during a game.

I pull his head up for a second, just to check my handiwork. Blood is flowing from his nose, but I don’t feel the message is sufficiently clear. I lower his head again with all my force. I hope he gets a few wooden splinters too, fucker.

While I’m taking care of this guy, I’m confident that Connor is dealing with his friend.

We’ve been playing hockey together for three years, and I know he always has my back.

I let go of the greasy ponytail, leaving the man to crumble on the ground in a bloody, whimpering heap. He’s alive. That’s a lot more than he deserves.

As I predicted, Connor must have hit the second guy in the face, because the second I turn, I see the asshole holding his nose with his cupped hands. Blood is trickling through his knuckles.

The piece of shit is so focused on the pain in his face that he leaves himself completely exposed to Connor’s right hook right in the softest part of his stomach.

With two of our problems dealt with, we turn to the motherfucker who’s still holding Bex against his chest.

The bastard knows he should have kept his grubby hands to himself. He’s pale as a sheet and the second my eyes land on his, he takes a step back, letting go of Bex.

She runs into my waiting arms and maybe I should focus on comforting her. There are tears in her eyes and she’s visibly shaking.

“You’re safe, baby.” I say, stepping between her and her assailant.

Fury courses through me, and I charge the scumbag. He isn’t getting away in one piece after what he did.

Connor is right behind him and puts him in a chokehold.

The first hit to his jaw makes blood fly out of his mouth, mixed with saliva.

I use his head like a punching bag, hitting twice in quick succession until his head slumps and Connor drops him.

The thud he makes when he hits the boardwalk should be satisfying, but I’m not done with him.

I drop on top of him, straddling his torso and slapping his face to bring him back to consciousness.

“Welcome back, motherfucker.” I grin. “Do you think I’m gonna kick your ass while you’re down?”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s too busy crying and shaking his head. I’m not sure if that’s an answer to my question, or a plea to let him go.

“Come here, Connor,” I call, getting back onto my feet. “Help me lift this sack of shit.”

My teammate does as I ask, after making sure that Bex is sitting down, safely away from the fight.

“Now,” I bite out, unable to hide the disgust on my face. “Stand up like a fucking man. I’m not done with you until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

The guy keeps crying and swaying, unsteady on his feet.

“Please, no,” He finally manages to beg.