Page 35 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Because that’s what it’s gonna be. A goddamn filthy face fucking. Nothing like what we’ve done before, just raw and brutal. Jesus H, I’ve severely underestimated the effect he’d have when he’s on his knees for me.

Taking a shaky breath, I sink my fingers—the perfectly roughened ones, according to certain hockey brats—into his scruffy coif, forcing him to look up at me. Is that my heart beating? I thought that fucker left the building decades ago.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck your face, princess, and you’re gonna behave, hold so still, and take it.”

His eyes are blown out with lust. “Yes, Daddy.”

Well, fuck me. He wasn’t supposed to look at me like this. Like I’m his whole world. Something happens in my chest. Something that feels like booted feet kicking at the shriveled lump of flesh that resides there. They’re steel-toed boots, by the way, and they make an impact.

I unzip and unbutton my jeans. His gaze is riveted, glued to every movement of my fingers. Wait till he sees how hard I am right now. I make it good for him, pulling the front of my boxers down slowly, letting my cock spring out.

“Shit,” he says. “No matter how many times I see it, it’s just … fuck.”

I’m big. No other way to say that. “You intimidated?”

“Nuh-uh. I want you to stuff me full, Daddy.”

Fuuuuuck.

Pressing my cock down, I rub the head between his lips, testing him—I told him to stay still, will he?

He does, but he inhales long and deep.

“Are you trying to catch my scent, princess?”

“You’re damn right, Daddy.”

“No shame.”

“Not sure I know what that is.”

I can’t be too hard on him for that one. It’s something we share. I’ve never had much of it either.

“Do you like how I smell?”

“I could get addicted to that scent. Now are you gonna stick your cock in me or what?

That’s it. I pat his cheek as if I’m knocking on a door and shove my way inside as soon as he opens.

I shouldn’t give him my cock at all for being a lippy little shit, but—and I’m loath to admit this—he might have me by the fucking balls.

I’m too far gone not to see this through, but I’ve also had enough of his snark.

His face stuffed with my ginormous cock is so much better. I hold it there, not moving, straining his jaw.

“Look at you, McKinnon,” I say, deciding on the spot he doesn’t get “princess” when he’s being a shithead.

I tuck a curl of his shaggy hockey mane behind his ear, admiring the uncomfortable-looking position of his lips stretched around my shaft.

“This is how you should be, mouth full of my cock, so that it can’t say anything else to get you into trouble. ”

He’s forced to breathe through his nose, so I keep careful track of his breaths ghosting over the skin of my cock. I only want to choke him enough to make the tears stream, not to make him stop breathing.

“You’re doing a good job, princess.”

Ace manages an attempt at a smile.

Using gentle motions, I stuff my cock into him further, so it hits the back of his throat—immediate tears.

But not the kind from crying, just the involuntary kind you get from having something hit the back of your throat.

I pull out enough and pause again so that he can catch some air.

When I’m certain he’s okay, I fuck my way in and out slowly, hitting the back of his throat every time I want more tears.

I move my hips faster, he keeps up, letting the flat of his tongue glide over my shaft, acting as nothing more than a place for me to stick my cock. His lips get all shiny and red, his cheeks develop a bright flush.

Fucking Christ.

“You’re so damn gorgeous like this.” One hand holds him by his brown locks, the other caresses his face. “Let’s see you suck.”

The look he gets in his eyes, it’s all that cocky smugness I’m used to seeing. He sucks alright, like a damn Hoover. It’s too good to go fast and rush an orgasm. I keep a languid pace, luxuriating. The pressure he’s keeping, fuck, don’t think I’ve ever been in a better mouth.

A long moan rumbles from the depths of me, and my primal instincts rise up. I want to go harder. I yank my dick from his mouth, and it’s the most painful thing I’ve had to do.

“How you doing, Ace?” I use his name softly but with enough sternness to convey that he’d better be honest. I grip his chin. Trust goes both ways.

“I’m good.” I raise a brow. “Really. C’mon, use me, Daddy. I know you want to.”

“You fucking brat. I’m gonna use you, alright. Brace yourself, I’m gonna fuck your throat raw.”

I don’t hold back this time. He wants to be used? He’ll get used. My hips pound a steady rhythm, and he takes it like a champ.

My orgasm hits me suddenly. Something about watching my cock slide in and out of him, stretching his lips, the tears, the redness, him on his fucking knees.

Ace doesn’t lose a drop, swallowing and continuing to lick and slurp, even as I’m pulling out, chasing my cock.

A long string of saliva beads from his lips to the head.

He’s in a floaty daze as he licks his lips, a white film coating the tip, taking the last remnants of my cum into him.

“That was?—”

“Up.”

Ace fumbles like a baby deer, and I’m too quick to help him. He doesn’t need my help; he’s a top-level athlete. No chance he’s never had to stumble home after a night of too many beers. It’s too late, though; my arm’s under him.

“We need to talk,” I say before he can say anything.

“Oh, now we talk.” He smirks.

“Sit.”

He has the gall to roll his eyes—maybe it’s not too late to spank him after all—but he plants himself on his ass quickly, working out that my mind’s headed in the spanking direction if he’s not careful.

Ace perches on the edge, legs spread, cock outlined in his sweats.

He flexes and extends his bare toes a few times before digging them into the carpet.

A grounding habit, maybe. Or just a nervous tic. Either way, it settles him.

I take a step in, knock his knees wider, invading his space. It’s instinct. Maybe mine, maybe his. I don’t know who started this gravity between us anymore. I tilt his head up with one hand and use the other to fix his hair. He’s fucking ruined because of me.

“Is this the part where you get weird about us again? Having second thoughts?”

I squeeze his chin, shaking my head. How do I explain it to him?

“No second thoughts. The opposite of second thoughts. The thing I feel for you isn’t sweet or soft.

It’s not a schoolboy crush and it sure as fuck isn’t gentle.

” My voice comes out rougher than usual as I try to get him to understand.

“It’s feral, it’s instinct, it’s predatory.

Every time I see you lean into one of your little friends like that I—” I exhale through my nose, jaw flexing hard.

Using him to ground me, I rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes for a few heartbeats. I don’t know if I was always this way, or if I became this way because of the training. Being in the ring night after night, there was little choice but to become something close to an animal.

It meant survival.

Hell, maybe that’s what I am now, an animal.

“I’m a lot, Ace.”

“I know, Luke. You’re the King of A lot. That’s what I want. Ugh, this is gonna sound so fucked up.”

I consider him. Is it possible that my fucked-up shit is in line with his fucked-up shit? “Tell me.”

“I want to belong to you like I’m your property.”

Holy shit, really?

Then … we do line up.

Exactly.

I smile the smile that should indicate he’s in big trouble. I’ve caught him, and I’m keeping him whether he likes it or not.

“That’s what I want too, but being mine means you don’t canoodle with others on buses.”

He glares. “Bender needs me. He’s my bestie—bestie privileges.”

Bender’s going to get a partner one day, and he won’t need Ace like he does now.

It’s not good for him, and I wish he’d see that.

“There are plenty of ways for you to be there for Bender without cuddling on the bus. What if I did that with someone, hmm? Would you still be okay with it so long as we were ‘besties’?”

He sighs. “No.” He mutters something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“This is why I don’t get involved. So many rules. Can’t you make one exception? Just the one?”

His goddamn puppy eyes. I’m close to breaking, but this isn’t something I can bend on.

“I’m a possessive bastard, baby. Sorry.” I brush my thumb over the lips I can’t have.

Why is my heart beating so damn fast?

“Okay,” he says.

I frown. “Okay?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always respected my boundaries, and this seems like a big deal to you. A limit. I guess we don’t have to cuddle, and I can still be there for him, but you’re not gonna go bananas if we touch each other in platonic ways, are you?”

“Can’t promise that. It’ll depend on my mood, which will determine if I spank you for it or not. But so long as there’s no canoodling, we’re good. Definitely no kisses of any kind,” I add, remembering that little kiss to Bender’s head.

“Yeah, you looked like you were about to have an aneurysm.” He laughs.

“You need a spanking.”

That cuts off his laughter real fast. “I’ve already been punished.”

“Believe me, that was no punishment.”

And for some reason, that makes me want to kiss him more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss him. Maybe because I know we’re the same on the inside.

I know that we fit.