Page 39 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Luke

T hey sit too fucking close to him, pawing at him, leaning across him. I don’t like it. I’ve survived forty minutes without ripping one of their heads off; that’s long enough. I’m the professor, I can end class whenever I want.

Slamming my pointer on the desk grabs their attention. “Class dismissed. Have your papers ready for me first thing Wednesday morning.”

The members of the hockey gang high-five each other, happy for the early dismissal, including Ace.

“Not you, McKinnon. You’ll be staying after.”

He puts up a minor protest for the benefit of his friends, but ultimately says, “Yes, sir.”

My dick’s already hard.

Ace exchanges a look with the one with the curly dark hair. He wags his eyebrows. Wait a second. What’s going on there?

Hmmm.

“Get down here, McKinnon,” I say once everyone has left, and I’ve inconspicuously shut the door.

Ace smiles, flouncing down the steps.

“Bend over the desk.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“I have a list. It starts with allowing others to touch my property and ends with you telling your friend about us.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times before it settles into a smile. “I love how jealous you are.”

“Over the desk, McKinnon.”

“Fine,” he huffs. He leans across the desk, resting on his forearms. It puts that nice round ass of his on display for me.

“Three for allowing others to touch what’s mine, two for outing us to your friend without my permission.”

“I get more for the—ow! Fuck that smarts.”

Swish crack!

Swish crack!

I crack my retractable cane slash pointer stick—a replacement one since I broke the last one—across his gorgeous ass two more times.

His face contorts with pain that must sting, but probably doesn’t even register on the pain radar of a hockey player.

Beating him isn’t the point. This is so he’ll have hot little welts to sit on, a reminder of who he belongs to while he carries on with his day. Something we’ll both appreciate.

He writhes a little, stepping foot to foot after I’ve delivered the fourth. I make the fifth one count.

“Fuck!”

“Language, McKinnon. Get over here.”

He stands up rubbing his ass, but instead of the pout I expected, he’s beaming. Princess loves his spankings, and I’m more than happy to give them to him.

“You ended class early just so you could do that to me?”

A lot of good it did; he hasn’t come to me as I demanded. Guess I’ll have to collect him. Using the waistband of his pants, I pull him to me.

“That was supposed to temper you, McKinnon.” I’m not allowed to kiss him, which means I want to kiss him more than I want to shove my cock into him and claim his ass. That’s saying something. I rub a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Honestly? It hurt a little, but it kinda felt good. Like…” He bites his lip, searching for the words. “Like you were branding me. I like that.”

Is it just me, or are his blue eyes ultra blue today? Fuck me, this is getting ridiculous. But they’re what snared me over the weekend, filled with an ocean of vulnerability.

I sucked his cock.

What? He deserved it, and he was pushed to his orgasm denial limit. I’m a little harder on him than I’ve been with others in the past because I know I can be, but it was time to hit the relief button.

But now he’s talking about branding. He might mean it innocently, but he’s unaware of the madness that’s taken hold of me.

I don’t consider a few cane strokes a branding, but a branding could be arranged.

I’d get him tattooed at the crest of his neck, just under his jaw, where everyone would see it.

I push the hair off his face and drink him in.

Rosy cheeks, fluttery lashes that will someday be the death of me, masculine jawline.

And that lip. Jesus H.

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, you’re gonna have to stop biting your lip.”

His bottom lip springs from the teeth that had it trapped so damn fast, and some of the sun fades from his expression.

Guess that’s still a no.

“Are you really planning on making me wait two whole fucking weeks before you fuck me?” he counters.

“Longer if you don’t learn some manners, princess.”

“Sorry, Daddy.” He blinks, manipulating me again. “But c’mon. What if the world ends?”

“No.”

“What if time and space collapse?”

“No.”

“What if your dick falls off?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and squeeze his ass. “Don’t worry, princess. The world could end, time and space could collapse, and Daddy would still find this ass and fuck it, do you know why?”

“Because it’s yours.”

“That’s right.”

“And if your dick falls off?”

“Like you said, I’m a werewolf, and we have regenerative powers. I’d grow it back, longer and fatter and stuff you so full you’d feel me every time you blinked those pretty lashes of yours.”

He groans. “Guess I’m waiting two weeks.”

“That’s if you behave. I’m adding a day for telling your handsy friend about us without my permission.”

“A whole day? C’mon. That’s so unfair.”

I rub my thumb over his lips again. They’re extra tempting today. He needs to leave. “You’re dismissed, McKinnon.”

“But …” He rests his head on my shoulder as if he needs me to carry his weight for just a second. I let him, threading my fingers into his hair, infusing him with some of my strength. He takes a long inhale. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He shines a smirk in my direction before he lifts his duffle over his head and almost skips out of the classroom.

What’s happening to him?

What’s happening to me?

I just had him in my arms, and I already want him back.

I lean backward in the chair, steepling my hands. “Update me on the Ryan Savage situation.”

Tate looks away. Suddenly, he’s a little boy again, one hand in the cookie jar, his mouth about to tell me he’s not taking a cookie, even though I can see that he is.

“Tate.”

“Ryan wants to switch schools.” Tatum’s tight-lipped.

“Why aren’t you happier?” His thumb circles his palm, and he can’t look me in the eyes. “Tate,” I snap.

“His father won’t let him. It was all a waste. If he came here, it would be against his father’s wishes, so no funding.”

That would explain the devastation on his face, and yet, I don’t think that’s it. “Maybe it wouldn’t be a waste. Maybe there are other reasons you want him here.”

“There are no other reasons,” he snaps, too fast. “Savage was supposed to be my way into his father’s fat pockets. I’ve already started looking at other prospects.”

Okay, I’ll leave that alone for now, but I think my brother … how do the kids say it? Caught feelings.

“Besides, there’s another big fundraising event at the end of November, and I’ve decided to increase game tickets to as much as I’m allowed. People will pay it to see Ace.”

My jaw tightens. I don’t like the idea of Ace being ogled like a commodity. He’s mine. Not for their admiration. For my use. My hands. My leash.

“That’s a lot to put on his shoulders. He’s not a show pony.”

“Yeah, he fucking is. Agents and teams are chomping at the bit to sign him—that’s the literal definition of a show pony. Don’t feel sorry for him, he knows what he is.”

I hide the way my insides smile. My princess is an arrogant creature to his core, proud of every pair of eyes that follow him. But for Ace, it’s how he enjoys the limelight. And that’s enough. He doesn’t need the added stress of being the one cog holding the whole machine together.

Besides, the only gaze that owns him is mine.

“And yet he’s got to keep up his grades to legally remain on the team,” I remind him.

“Yeah. I’d let him keep playing if he never went to another class, but the NCAA is full of hard asses. If they found out an ineligible player was on the team, we’d face disqualification. Just, keep your dick out of his ass, okay?”

“No.” If my brother thinks that’ll improve Ace’s performance in all areas, he’s wrong. “You need a better plan than … the Ace up your sleeve if you want to secure the team’s future.”

He cracks a smile. “That’s a terrible pun.”

I shrug. “It worked. Why are you so worried? You’d find another job. There are plenty of schools that would snap you up in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, I guess I just … I dunno.”

“You care about them.”

“Fine. I do. Ace’ll be gone, but plenty of the team’ll remain in his wake. You see them in the hallways, they’ve got an unbreakable bond.”

“They’re a gang of entitled hooligans.” He scowls. “But maybe so was I at their age.”

“No, you weren’t, Luke. You never were. If anything, I was.”

Uncle Jasper used to tell him that all the time—how entitled and spoiled he was. He didn’t think so at the time, at least, that’s what he insisted. But maybe Uncle’s words affected him more than he let on.

Tatum leans back in this chair. “Ace’s last year is an opportunity. Who he signs with is a mega topic of interest. We’ll be known as the school that trained Ace McKinnon. It’ll attract more rich parents of hockey players who want to sink their money into the school.”

“And you want me to find out who he’s signing with.” My lip curls. “No.”

“Whoa.” Tate grins. “You’re territorial over this one.”

“I don’t want anyone using him.” Except for me. But in my defense, McKinnon loves being my filthy little princess, available for my use. He needs it. What I do for him takes the pressure off. What Tate’s doing would only add to it.

“And I don’t want you fucking him, but guess we can’t always get what we want, huh, big bro?”

“You little fucking brat.”

“Hey, I’m just following your lead, doing what I feel is best for the team. Isn’t that what you taught me?”

He’s right. I did teach him that. I just didn’t think he’d ever use it against me.

I stand. “I also taught you how to use your fucking brain,” I mutter, turning for the door. “Start acting like you have one. Ace isn’t your only option.”