Page 26 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Ace

T he game with North Point’s tonight, but all I can think about is Luke.

Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke. There’s a new feeling, thrumming a constant buzz through my veins like a superpower.

I can do anything, be anything, wow. And is it just me, or does the air smell better?

Is that because the weather’s changing? Dunno.

Didn’t notice it last year. But on the way to everything this week—classes, practice, training—I’ve stopped to appreciate the wonders of the fucking world.

The birds, the trees, the frost-bitten blades of grass.

It’s all new, leaving a taste of awe in my throat.

Speaking of my throat, Luke’s artwork’s fading. I want new ones. Did the guys grind my gears about them? Yes. They’ve tried wearing me down, tryna find out who, but I told them “wild Benduovr hookup”. I’ve alluded to the fact we may hook up again, since I know we will.

“This weekend, I expect chapters one through ten to be read and annotated. There will be a quiz on Monday morning,” Luke’s gravel voice says, grating against my relentlessly aching cock.

Wait, shit. The weekend. I haven’t run the weekend by Luke. I’m supposed to ask him for permission to attend parties. My brain had already stamped the party as “in the clear” when Coach didn’t mention any surprise fundraisers. He finally emailed out a list but warned us there could be more.

But I still need to clear it with Luke. Funny bubbles pop in my tummy.

Class drones on, and I’m intently listening to the sound of his voice but not hearing a word.

Luke’s dreamy. Especially when he wears his mountain gear to class.

Tall hiking boots, cargo pants, and a red and black checkered flannel rolled up to the crests of his biceps.

He’s allowed a little of his beard to grow back.

Not a lot. Only enough to dust over his perfect jawline and infuse it with top-tier masculinity.

Fuck, and he’s all mine.

But the only way I’m gonna get the chance to talk to him before the game without triggering suspicion is if I get in trouble in class.

But Luke’s a sadist. Real or not, he’ll delight in using it as an opportunity to keep me in orgasm denial hell.

Yeah, that.

It’s been three days. I’m a twenty-four-year-old male used to masturbating multiple times a day. But, fuck me. Knowing I’m being good for him has an appeal I never thought I’d enjoy. It’s like he’s always with me, one of those massive hands wrapped around my cock.

I pull out my phone and answer text messages like I’d rather be doing anything else, when really, watching what I now call “The Luke Show”, uninhibited, is the highlight of my damn day.

“McKinnon, since you have the attention span of a gnat, you’ll stay after class.”

Perfect. But I can’t let on that I’m happy about it, so just to be on the safe side …

“Maybe if something interesting was going on, I wouldn’t have trouble paying attention, sir.”

Several gasps echo around the room.

Shit, was that too far? Fuck, might have been too far if that look on Luke’s face is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry, what I have to say to you after class is going to be plenty interesting.”

More bubbles. More fuzziness. Sigh. Fucking epic.

Class files out, but I remain seated. He shuts the door behind the last student and turns to face me, studying the smirky smile lighting my face. There’s a split second where I think he’ll lay into me, but he crooks a finger instead.

“Get your ass down here, McKinnon.”

Gladly. I grab my bag and race down the stairs, dropping my duffle, and turn into a flying squirrel as I leap for him. He wraps his arms around me.

“Texting in class to get my attention, princess?”

I chuckle. “Was all I could think of that wouldn’t get me in too much trouble, but I needed to talk to you.”

“That was all you could think of? I thought your generation was Lord of the Text.”

My nose wrinkles. “Nah, too impersonal for, uh, for what I have to ask you.”

He does that thing I like, where he uses his knuckle to nudge my chin and level my eyes with his. I mean, his eyes are way up there, but also … did I look away again? Jeeeeeez. He makes me so damn shy.

“Hit me.”

“Well, ah, so there’s a game tonight, you see.”

“A hockey game?” he says as if he didn’t already know.

“Yes, a hockey game. First game of the season. It’s an exhibition game, but it’s huge because it’s against our rival team, North Point. We have a … gathering of sorts afterward.”

“Are you asking permission to go to a party, McKinnon?”

“Pssssht, party. It’s hardly a party. It’s basically a … a board meeting. Yeah. Because we’re work colleagues, um, essentially. Well, not now, but most of us will be in the future.”

Luke’s chest shakes, barely able to contain his laughter.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, princess. I swear I’m not laughing at you, but what have I done to you? You’ve gone from badass hockey god to adorable brat. I almost don’t know what to do with you.”

My brows furrow in a glare that’s real. “Can I go or not?”

“Never mind, there you are.” He presses my nose and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Ask me how you know I want to be asked.”

Fuck. I can’t breathe. Why is that so hot it steals my breath?

There’s a drumbeat against my skin, a throbbing in my cock, and a burn so hot I’m sure I’ll incinerate any second.

Because, yeah, I know what he wants. It’s embarrassing as hell, but so, so delicious somehow.

Luke has done something to me. I don’t know what either, but I’m willing to die of embarrassment to find out.

“Do I have your permission to go to the party, Daddy?” My ears will be the first to go. They feel like they’ve been dipped in acid.

“Oh, so it is a party, hmm?”

“ Luke. ”

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing, for now. But I’m pretty damn hesitant, considering how I found you the last time.”

“I won’t do that again. Besides, that was because of … of Dad,” I squeak out. I run a hand through my hair. How do I explain it without going too deep?

“Are you ready to talk about that?

I can’t say it’s nothing, not when I got wasted in the bleachers over it, but I don’t know where to begin. “Mom’s … a hockey angel now, and we don’t see eye to eye on our grief, I guess? He’d like me to move on, I wish he’d taken a fucking pause.”

I may never learn how to break this news to people. I’ve tried so many different ways. I don’t want the frown to come, or the pity because “I’m so young without a mom”. It’s best just to get it over with.

The pity never comes, just a frown that’s not the frown I expected either. It’s a judgy frown.

“All your entitled behavior makes sense now.”

“Luke!”

His growly laugh rumbles from his chest, and he combs fingers through my mess of hockey hair.

“Would you rather I felt sorry for you?”

“I didn’t, but maybe now I do.”

“Losing a mom is shitty, mostly. I lost mine when I was eight.”

“Huh, all your brutish behavior makes sense now.”

“I wish that were why,” he says. It’s my turn to frown. Do I follow that up? It seems too personal for what we are.

Right … moving on.

“Point is, Dad’s not likely to show up, and if he does, I’m prepared.”

“Prepared how?”

“You. If Dad shows and we fight, I’m running straight to you.”

“Good answer, princess.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Unfortunately, I can’t find a reason to say no.”

“What do you mean, unfortunately?”

“The last thing I want is your ass around a bunch of hot, drunken young men and women.”

“I can be trusted.”

His thumb lands on my plump bottom lip, brushing feather light. Instant soothing.

“I’m not worried about you; I’m worried about them pawing at you. Murdering college students isn’t a good look, even for me.”

“I guess I can’t completely promise that.” It’s like the air being let out of a balloon. My brain whirrs off on a tear, trying to figure out how to host a party as the president that I can’t attend.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Don’t do what?”

“Worry. That’s my job now, McKinnon.”

“How did you?—”

“Your face is all scrunched up. You can go to the party. No drinking.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have any way. I’m officially in-season now, Professor. Mom taught me well.”

“Mom?”

“Yeah. I know, I know. It’s usually Dad out there on the ice at four in the morning with his kid, but Mom was the hockey star of the family. She taught me everything I know.”

“She’d be proud of you, McKinnon.”

“Maybe.” Fuck. I need to change the subject in a big way. “But speaking of pawing …”

I lift one of his bear paws, gently running my fingers over the battered knuckles. Fuck. They’re bad, worse than they were. Aren’t they in agony? Dammit, I’d planned a sexy remark, instead, worry curls my gut.

“Are you still…? Why?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just lets me cradle his hand like something precious. Like I’ve got the power to heal it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice gone a quiet kind of rough.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m good.”

I blink, throat tightening. “You are.”

He shuts his eyes for a second, like maybe that word hurts more than the raw skin. Then, without warning, he pulls me against his chest. I don’t say anything, letting myself fit there, against him, so he can breathe me in.

“I want to tell you something,” he murmurs into my hair. “But not yet.”

“Okay.”

“If I tell you now, I’ll ruin this. You’re happy, and I’m not ready to be the reason that changes.”

My chest aches, but I nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You can touch your dick tonight, McKinnon,” he says, swiftly changing the subject.

“But … I thought?—”

“There will be plenty of other opportunities for me to play with your dick.”

“That’s not nearly as fun.”

“How long are you willing to wait?”

“However long you tell me to, um, so long as my dick doesn’t fall off.”

“There are no known health consequences to ‘blue balls’.”

“What? There’s gotta be.”

“Nope. Look it up. Anything you’ve heard or read in your dirty sex books is a myth, fiction, or facts made up for erotic pleasure.”