Page 29 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Luke

H ow nice it must be to have a full night’s sleep.

I’d love to be blissfully unaware of the persistent knocking that woke my guard-dog ass from a dead sleep.

I’m conditioned to be up and ready to fight, thanks to my uncle.

He didn’t have to do that; he wanted to.

More of his games. His ideas about surviving in this world.

When I was younger, I thought they were sick, but as time goes on, maybe he was right.

Some of them were cruel, but even with years of distance to gain perspective, I still believe that he believed he was preparing me for life in a cruel world. How would you do that without exercises in cruelty?

Rubbing my eyes, I check the time. Two forty-five am. This better be a damn emergency. Sliding into my house robe, I make my way downstairs and take a look out the peephole.

McKinnon.

If he’s here to beg me for sex, that boy’s getting the spanking of his life—before I shove my cock into him. All night, I regretted my decision to allow him to attend that party instead of telling him to get his ass over here.

The hinge creaks as the door swings open. My tirade stops before it starts. He’s half panicking, running his hands through his hair repeatedly.

“Coach, fuck—Ryan Savage! My goddamn bed!” he whisper yells. I look around to make sure we’re the only ones up at “holy fuck o’clock” and yank him inside.

Once the door’s shut and relocked, I set to work, removing his shoes and jacket. Now that he’s here, he’s staying. I’ll handcuff him to my bed if I have to—maybe even if I don’t have to.

My gaze lands on his swollen and purpling bottom lip. I stand there, fists clenched and teeth grinding. The only reason his lip should look like that is because I devoured it. My thumb catches it. I toy with it, inspecting it until he hisses.

“Have you iced this?”

“Yes, and I saw the team medic for the rest of it after the game. Luke, did you hear what I said?”

I inhale and exhale slowly, my piss-poor attempt at calming down. Right. Something about Tate and Ryan. I can hold it together until he’s explained the situation.

Really, I can.

“From the beginning, McKinnon.”

He explains while I keep my hands busy removing his letter jacket. By the time I have him stripped to his t-shirt and pajama pants—he’d clearly intended on staying here too—I’ve heard the sordid tale of my brother fucking a rival hockey player in his bed.

I’ll kill Tate, but that’s going to have to wait.

Ace is moving a little stiffly. Soreness from the game must be setting in.

And what a game. I finally got to see what Tate was talking about.

Ace has instincts you can’t teach, extra senses, the kind only some of us have that border on intuition.

There’s a saying in hockey that you don’t go where the puck is, you go where the puck’s going to be.

Ace is always there, like the puck wants him, like it follows him.

It peels off his blade and into the net like it never had another destination.

Once you see him do that, all you crave is to see it again.

I get it now; he’ll fill the largest sports arenas just like he fills his college one.

I’m glad I wasn’t watching up close. I’ve been the rowdy hockey fan at games, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stomach Ace taking hit after hit without the murderous need to race onto the ice and pulverize the man who did it.

The best thing I can do for him is give him a massage, some relief, and a place to sleep. I lead him to my room, pointing to my bed as I turn on the lamp.

“Sit.” I grip the hem of his t-shirt; he places a hand over mine.

“Um, are you sure you wanna do that, Daddy?”

“How bad is it?”

“I’ve had way worse.”

“Ace.”

He sighs. “Nothing’s broken, but it’s gonna look like it is.”

I keep going, tugging the shirt over his head, unwrapping the finest body I’ve ever seen. All the training leading up to the season’s chiseled him, defining every striation in every muscle. I’m gonna enjoy having my hands on him.

But first, I fetch the arnica from my drawer, something I keep on hand for myself. I rub it gently into the nasty bruise spidering up his arm.

“Wild puck,” he explains.

I twist my lips. Yes, this is part of hockey, but no, I don’t have to like it. I rub the arnica in slower than I should, mentally cursing the sport, pucks, and McKinnon for being a puckhead.

He watches me, a smile spreading across his face. “Adorable,” he says.

“ McKinnon, ” I growl.

“You are,” he insists, not afraid of me at all. “You’re kinda nurturing for a beast-like guy.”

Only with him. Only for him.

Switching gears, I set up the lube and massage oil on the bedside table, removing my robe before I seat myself with my back against the headboard. All I’m wearing is a pair of tight gray boxer shorts.

Ace stares, mouth wide. Guess I’ve still got it.

“Get over here, princess.” I pat the space between my thighs.

“No fair. If you get to be that naked, then so do I.”

He won’t be a spoiled princess.

“Alright, lose the pajama pants, McKinnon, keep the boxers.” What? He’s had a hard night.

When he’s stripped down to white boxer shorts, he sits his wide ass between my legs, leaning his back against my bare chest, sagging as if maybe he’s finally comfortable now that he’s here with me.

I’m searing hot, but his skin’s still got a slight chill from being outside.

Let’s warm him up. Using a dollop of massage oil, I let my hands smooth it over the hard ridges of his body.

He’s about to learn that this isn’t just any massage oil.

It’s a homemade recipe for sore muscles, thanks to Uncle Jasper.

It’s got a cooling-heating effect like Tiger Balm does, made with ingredients safe for the skin, also safe to ingest in small amounts.

I learned through self-experimentation that it has other uses that I’m about to introduce to him.

“Mhm, that feels good,” he says, hissing. “Almost good enough to erase the sight of Coach’s ass from my mind.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s only because it’s Coach, and I’ll have to look at him with a straight face at practice. I wish it bothered me in other ways, but instead it …”

“ McKinnon .”

“It made me think about what it’ll be like when you fuck me, and then my dick took over.” He shrugs. “Sorry, not sorry.”

I dig into some tough knots, maybe a little too forcefully.

I knew Tatum was desperate, but I didn’t think he’d have sex in a frat house.

I should just tell Tate about the money I’m giving him and that he only has to be married long enough for us to acquire Uncle’s fortune, thus proving he’s there for me.

Fuck, the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds.

I did it for Tate anyway. I don’t need thanks or his loyalty.

It just would have been nice.

“What do we do about it?” Ace asks.

“You? Nothing. You’re going to focus on school and hockey. Leave my brother to me.”

“But—”

“No. This is where you say ‘yes, Daddy’ and relax.”

He sighs. “Yes, Daddy.” I continue to massage as he breathes for a minute. “Y’know? That’s actually kinda nice? I like the idea of you just … taking it off my plate. If I had to deal with that too, I might explode.”

“Not everything is for you to deal with, Ace.”

I let my hand, slick with the heating-cooling oil, slide down his boxer shorts. His breath hitches, and he swallows hard.

“I-It ff-feels that way, Daddy.” He whimpers.

“Shhh, let Daddy take care of you, princess. You’ve been so good, haven’t you?

“Y-Yes. Fuck, oh fuck .”

The oil doesn’t burn, exactly, but it makes everything sensitive.

Hyperaware. There’ll be a wash of a hot sort of cool, up and down his shaft.

His hips jump as I stroke slowly. I use some regular lube, too, so it’s nice and wet.

Sloppy wet. Ace’s head falls into the crook of my neck, eyes closed, sinful sounds moan from his throat.

“That’s it.”

“Fuck, Luke. I wanna come so bad, but I want this to last forever, too.” Those fast hands of his claw into my bare thighs. I’m no stranger to pain, so I swallow it, letting him tear at the skin. “Don’t think I can hold back anymore, though.”

“Come for me, princess,” I whisper in his ear.

That’s all it takes, lava-hot cum spurts onto his stomach as his body moves through minor convulsions, and I get to be jealous of the way he sucks on his own bruised lip like I want to.

I guide his hand through the mess, then push his fingers past his lips, feeding him the evidence of what he gave me, what’s mine now.

He sucks and licks obediently just as my pretty little whore should.

He’s a mess, a wreck. I want to wring out so much more from him.

We have time.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. That was intense and for sure the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“So far.”

“You can do better than that?”

“So much better, but you need sleep.”

“Ugh. Should have known you’d get strict at some point.” He yawns.

“Growing hockey boy, and all that. Close your eyes.”

“We’re gonna sleep like this?”

I’m a guard dog, but I can also sleep on a rock and in strange positions. Sometimes it was necessary.

“I’m not done massaging you yet.”

“Fondling me, you mean.”

“And you have a problem with that?”

“Nope, I just don’t wanna miss it with—” He yawns again.

I toy with his nipples. He will not be a spoiled princess. “Close your eyes and go to sleep for me, and I’ll play with your cock some more in the morning.”

His eyes open wider—the opposite of what I just told him to do. “Can I play with yours, too?”

He will not be a spoiled princess.

“Of course, princess. If you go the fuck to sleep.”

Ace nods, but he finally closes his eyes. Hmmm, maybe he works better on a rewards system, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever miss an opportunity to spank his ass.