Page 21 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

That just sounds weird coming out of his mouth.

He’s all brutality, even the air around him screams it.

Oddly, it’s what draws me to him. He’s a giant wolf with big teeth that will definitely bite me if all goes as I hope it will, yet I want to cuddle up to him in a way I never have with anyone.

Taking a chance, I loop my arms around him.

Luke freezes.

That’s different than the other day. Is it fear, or has he changed his mind? You don’t call something yours unless you desire it?

Right?

His chest rises and falls a couple of times. Then he relaxes, letting his body mold to mine. It’s fear then. But what’s he afraid of?

“Still haven’t heard the words I’m looking for,” he murmurs.

“Yes, Daddy. No paint guns.” What I’m gonna do with a full arsenal of nonrefundable paint guns is a problem for Future Me. “I’ll come up with something else.”

God, we’re bizarre. There’s so much fucking desire bleeding off us, you can taste it. Yet here we are cuddling in the middle of his office—there’s no other word for it.

“What did you tell Coach? He didn’t give me the ass kicking I deserved earlier.”

“I told him the same thing I told you.”

“Which is?”

A low rumble rises from his chest. It’s half laugh, half fucking purr. “That you’re mine, princess. I deal with you, not him.”

Shivers ripple down my body, my cock’s crying.

Hot hands climb up my bruised torso, ripping a hiss from me, finding my sensitive nipples. Circling. Toying. As if I’m just a plaything. A toy. He can use me or not. Torture me. Pleasure me. Leave me fucking wanting.

“P-Please,” I whisper, but it’s useless.

He ignores me, of course. Daddy’s gonna do what he’s gonna do.

And there’s still too much restraint there for it to go any further than this.

If light petting is all I’m getting, though, I’m gonna eat it the fuck up.

Show him that I can be good. Behave. Earn his damn cock if I have to.

He grips my face hard in one hand while he continues to pet me with the other. His fingers. Those fucking fingers. There’s a tender violence in them that I live and die by now. I want them to do everything to me.

“You like that, don’t you, princess? Having your nipples played with like you’re just a pretty doll.”

“Y-Yes, Da-Daddy.” My face is on fire, having to admit to that, but I’d be lying if I said any different.

“You’re not the captain of the hockey team to me. You’re nothing but a needy princess, desperate to be put in his place. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

He keeps teasing, stroking over the bruises, petting like he’s taming something wild. Or watching it break.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it? Not some big man, just my hungry little slut with a perfect set of tits and a cock that begs for my permission.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I writhe on the desk like the filthy slut he’s saying I am. “I’ll be so good for you.”

“You will, or this is never going to see the light of day.” His hand sinks to grip my miserable cock, straining behind the zipper of my slacks. “Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I get rewarded with his lips on my neck, whispering over my tender pulse point.

He sucks, and the tension breaks, shattering me into a thousand pieces.

I cry out, quickly muffling myself by latching onto his neck with my teeth, but I don’t bite down.

We’re still at school. God, how I wish we were anywhere else.

There’s a burst of pain, heat, and wet as he marks me, sucking blood to the surface of my skin where it’ll bloom into a bright bruise.

Pleasure curls low in my belly. There’s a very real chance I might come from this alone if he doesn’t fucking stop.

“Daddy, I’m gonna … gonna?—”

He pulls off, taking his neck from my teeth with him. “No.” Just one word in his “daddy says so” voice.

Now that I’m aware of the rules, he returns to my neck, and I’m trapped between heaven and hell.

“You’re … you’re mean,” I whimper.

An evil laugh beats from under his lips. “I’m just getting started, McKinnon.”

When he’s satisfied, he pulls away, but I feel so owned, unable to stop my hand from finding the saliva-slick spot he left there. It aches with a permanent memory of his lips. Fuck. What would the team think if they saw their fearless captain like this? Stripped, begging, branded.

“That’s better,” he says, brushing gentle knuckles over my tight jaw. “How you should be—wrecked and aching for Daddy.”

I do feel wrecked, even though he barely did anything. What’s it gonna be like when he finally does? He’s reaching for my t-shirt, and I know what that means—time for me to go. “Please don’t make me go.”

“You have class,” he says, ignoring my pleas and helping me stuff my arms back into my shirt.

“Who needs class? I’m gonna be an NHL superstar.”

He raises a thick brow as he tugs the shirt down, covering my paintball injuries, but not the mark he left on me. “Are you? I was under the impression you hadn’t decided yet.”

“What do you mean? Of course I have.”

“Mhm. Tate said you haven’t signed with anyone.”

“I haven’t done that, but I will.”

He studies me, thumb under his chin. “Mhm.”

“That’s your second mhm. You don’t believe me,” I accuse.

“Why haven’t you chosen, McKinnon?”

“I have time,” I snap.

“Excuse me?” His voice has that dangerous glint again, but this time it’s for me. That tone? That’s the one that comes right before I get dragged back over his knee.

My throat dries right up. I can’t look directly at those two pieces of steel he calls eyes, but I manage to keep my lip firmly defiant.

We’re still way too fucking new for me to spill my guts.

I’ll moan for him, cry sexually frustrated tears for him, even behave for him. But that piece of me stays mine.

“Well, I do.” I don’t lose the attitude, even though every sign points to danger up ahead if I don’t. Fuck, it’s thrilling, though. Just as thrilling as being on the ice.

Luke helps me into my jacket, basically re-collaring me as my skin burns with the heat of his gaze.

“Careful, princess. I’ll admit to having a soft spot for you, but it has limits. Bratting comes at a cost.”

My pulse hammers. I nod quickly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Fuck. My knees almost buckle.

He pushes the hair off my forehead, pressing his lips there. A sheen of warmth spreads through my body. The combination of strict and sweet has me on cloud fucking nine.

“To class, McKinnon, and make sure you’re on time for office hours.”

I stagger out the door with a hard cock and my pride in shambles. Know what? Don’t even give a fuck. He can have it all.

The rest of the day is smooth sailing. Wow, didn’t know how many knots my stomach was tied in until Luke untied them.

He took over. Took the decision out of my hands.

I guess I still have to break it to the guys that the paintball wars are off—that’s not gonna be fun—but I’ll switch gears to a more diplomatic solution.

As relaxed as I was, an idea came to me that I think’ll work. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, to be honest. The guys should be able to help me fine-tune it.

There’s only enough time for me to go home, change, and grab something to eat before I have to be back for office hours. Looking forward to those. Maybe the asshole will finally fucking kiss me. Or rail me. I’ll take either at this point.

I’m filling a sports bottle with electrolytes when I hear Bender call from the living room.

“Dude, shit. Come see this. They’re flooded.”

“What?” I wander into the living room. Shep’s awfully close to Bender for a guy who’s always annoyed with him.

“Beta Sigma,” Shep says. “Their frat house is fucking flooded. Someone posted all about it on the campus social page. Dayum. That’s gonna keep’em busy for a while. If they don’t dry that out properly, there’s gonna be mold and irreparable damage.”

I blink. “How did that happen?”

“A hose through the window, left on all day. Or well, since some time this morning.”

Sometime this morning, eh? My heart does a weird little stutter. “Who would do that?”

Bender shrugs. “Who wouldn’t? Everybody hates them.”

Yeah. Everyone. It totally wasn’t a werewolf-shaped English professor who probably looked totally hot pulling off that kind of heist.

“You don’t think it’ll get pinned on us?”

“They’ll want to, but we all have alibis. We were all in class. Fuck, I wish it had been one of us,” Bend says, leaning back into Shep.

I look around for Huddy. Where’s Huddy been these days?

“Yeah. We have alibis. Let’s hope the court of public opinion accepts that.”

I don’t bother knocking, striding in with the full knowledge that he went to war for me.

I’m a little high off the feeling, which is probably why I think it’s a good idea to walk straight up to him, wait until he turns in his chair, and straddle his lap.

Now that I’m this close, with him looking all big and scary and like he might spank my ass, I have regrets.

Why do I feel the need to tempt fate with him on a regular basis?

Oh, right. He flooded a fucking frat house for me. My goddamn hero.

He’s sweaty again from his workout. I’d suck his sweaty cock, proof that being constantly horny is making me lose my mind. Instead, I take a giant inhale, and yeah, he’s ripe alright. But I love it. I want him all over me.

I need help.

He stares at me, unsure if he should push me off or turn me over his knee.

His hands make their way around the back of me, digging into my ass.

His legs spread enough to readjust me. This must be a new chair.

He doesn’t have to squish into it anymore.

And fuck, all he’s wearing are a pair of sweatpants—thin, wet, sweatpants—and a gray cotton t-shirt.

I plant my hands on his shoulders.

“Can I help you?” he says.

“Actually, I was thinking I’d help you. Y’know, as a thank you.”

“McKinnon,” he warns, stiffening beneath me.

I shift, tightening my hips, trying to relieve some of the ache in my groin. That’s when I feel it. The very obvious hardness beneath the thin cotton between us. I flinch. I knew he wanted me, but now I have proof.

And wow. I knew he’d be big, but he’s bigger than big.

His face remains like stone, brow furrowed, and for the first time, I think I’ve captured him instead of the other way around. It’s like he’s afraid to move. I don’t want him to push me off, I want to stay right here, so I approach carefully.

“Are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” The smirk on his face tells me everything. He can’t hide this smug glee. His hand reaches out to trace the faint bruising still on my face from the rubber bullets. “All I’ll say is the next time they hurt you, they’ll have more to worry about than a sinking ship. Up.”

I groan. “Why? I wanna play.”

“Office hours are to help you; they’re not for fooling around.”

“You need to watch more porn.”

“Now, Ace.”

Ace. He just called me Ace. I’m shocked enough to climb off his lap and sit in my chair. He slides another essay prompt my way, and I’m already thinking about what I’ll draw for him.

Wait, I know.

A cartoon penis in a cape.