Page 40 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Three days after that debacle, I’m at home and about to plate my dinner, but a loud, irritating knock interrupts me.

I swing open the door, about to ream out what or whoever dares to disturb my peace, but freeze, arrested by the sight of a large, drowned rat that could resemble Ace McKinnon once hung out to dry.

His shoulders are rigid, drawn up and locked, round nostrils flaring. Am I somehow responsible for this? I hope so. God, he’s fucking beautiful when he’s furious. A storm rages around him, reflecting his mood as if he’s solely to blame for the pounding rain soaking the world behind him.

“Well? Invite me in, Professor,” he demands.

I shut the door in his face.

Three, two, one?—

He throws the door open, charging into the house, dripping water onto my entryway.

“Every drop you leave behind is getting cleaned up with your tongue,” I threaten.

He stills. “What are the chances you’ll give me a towel?”

I eye his sweatpants, which managed to stay reasonably dry due to being under the umbrella of his shoulders. “Zero.”

Ace noticed where my eyes were, taking the hint. He strips out of his sneakers and then his sweats, leaving him in a damp pair of white cotton boxers. He dries his hair first, mopping up the entryway, hanging the sweatpants on a hook, pleased with his ingenuity.

“To what do I owe this intrusion, McKinnon?” I rake my eyes up and down his form. If he’s going to show up unannounced, I’m going to assume he’s here for my enjoyment.

Princess crosses his arms. “You need to get Coach off my ass.”

I lift a brow.

“He kicked my fucking ass today. I did drills until I puked and then did some more. He wants me to end things with you.”

I don’t mean to smile, but I smile. I’m not worried about Tate.

“You fucking sadist. You like my pain.”

Only the physical kind. The rest? That’s mine to manage, not Tate’s. If he keeps fucking with McKinnon’s head, I’m going to have to pull my brother into the boxing ring for a chat.

“C’mere, princess,” I say in a rough voice because, yes, the idea of him being punished via death by hockey drills gets my dick hard.

He approaches, but he’s morphed from “big, scary hockey player” into “terrified mouse”.

As soon as he’s close, I snag him with a hand to his low back, wrenching his neck open with the other, sucking on his pulse point.

Unlike the other day when I could only lick and tease it, this time I can leave a fat purple hickey.

He takes what I give him, pulling in a shaky breath loaded with arousal. “F-Fuck.”

“Are you gonna leak for me, puck bunny?”

I know how others use that term, but, for me, it’s because he’s my prey who happens to play hockey. If it’s humiliating for him, good, it’ll turn him on more. And all he can do is leak for me helplessly, because he’s not allowed to come.

“Yes, Daddy,” he breathes into my ear. “Please. I wanna … wanna be good for you.”

Shoving my hand down his damp boxers, I squeeze a handful of his ass. “Mine, this is mine.”

“All fucking yours.”

I know he came here to yell at me, but he’s the one who walked into a lion’s den.

He’s a lot smarter than his grades say he is, so he’ll know that.

I shove his jacket off, letting it hit the floor.

A pretty little birdie told me via text message that his test results came back clear, and since I already knew I was, I’ve been dying to do something to him.

I drag him up the stairs to my bedroom and push him onto the bed.

“Clothes off,” I demand.

He’s quick to shed his t-shirt and boxers, revealing his one helluva body. We’re a month into the regular hockey season now, and all the training and games have further sculpted his body. I swear his ass is bigger, rounder.

“You’re gonna pay for coming by my house like a fucking brat,” I promise.

“Oh, c’mon. I’m not tempting at all?” he says, splaying himself on my bed like he’s posing for a hockey calendar, his large thighs crossed at the ankle, hard cock leaking against his stomach. “Kinda seems like you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“I’m tempted, alright. Tempted to send your cocky ass packing after I’ve spanked it.” But I’m tearing off my clothes as if they’re burning me. I want them off, I wanna rub my skin against his.

“Wait, are you getting naked, too?” His eyes are glued to my every movement. “None of this feels like a punishment, just sayin’.”

“Believe me, it will.”

I let him watch, slowing down a bit once I’ve got my top off, unbuckling my belt with a snap of the leather for some flare, taking off my black jeans first and then my boxer briefs, rather than shucking them off at the same time.

He sits up when my naked form steps toward the bed, and I slot between his legs, his hands slide up my thighs, stopping when they get to my bare ass.

“You’re so big and I don’t just mean your cock. Everything about you. I’ve never seen so many muscles on one person. Still don’t know where you find clothes that fit you.”

Gazing down, I rub my thumb over his forbidden lips again. “Time to make you pay for your brattitude. Ass in the air.”

His mouth drops. “Are you gonna…?”

“Fuck your ass? Nope.”

Ace’s gorgeous pout takes over his face as he huffily gets into place on his knees, lowering his chest to the bed so his ass sticks way up.

When he spreads his knees apart, I get a glimpse of his heavy, dangling balls.

They fall just below his crease, and I have to reach out for a squeeze.

They’re wrinkled against my finger pads.

Seeing him like this, I can’t fathom why I’m bothering with this two-week thing.

Maybe there’s a small part of me that believes he’ll be gone after that.

He’s made it clear from the beginning that this is an exploration for him—he’s the toppy-type, he does the owning.

His foray into being “the owned” is new.

It’s not new for me. When I was his age, I explored too, figuring out what I like and don’t. I was made for owning a body—gender doesn’t matter. I dominate.

I smack his ass just to leave a handprint there.

“What was that for?” he mutters.

“Because you’re mine. Now be good for Daddy, princess. I’m gonna use you the way you’re meant to be used. As a plaything.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he says on a sigh as if being my toy’s such a hard life. I smile, and then I drown his crack in lube.

He makes breathy sounds, as I use the finger he claims to be obsessed with to generously spread the lube.

“You have no idea how horny I am,” he says.

I smack his ass again, but this time it’s chastisement. “Toys don’t talk.”

“Not true. Well, maybe not from your era, Daddy.”

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. But even I have to admit, it was a good one. “Hmmm, sounds like you want an extra day added. Maybe you don’t want Daddy’s cock in this pretty hole at all?”

“No! Nooooo. I do. Shutting up,” he says. “All good behavior from here on out.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Positioning myself behind him, I pry his cheeks apart.

“Look at this tight little ass.” I nudge the head of my cock between his crease and glide my shaft across the lube slip and slide I made for myself.

Taking my time, I slide it across over and over, squeezing his two globes together to create more friction.

He’s not the only one who’s horny. I’ve been craving him. I’ve never craved someone like I crave Ace McKinnon.

“That’s a good boy. Ass nice and high for Daddy.

” I inhale slow and long, savoring. He feels so fucking good.

I’m tempted to sneak inside for just a taste, but I won’t let myself.

I said we’d wait; we’re waiting. Plus, there’s still so much we can do in a week and a half. Better to let the anticipation build.

“When I take you, it’s going to be an owning, princess. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll have trouble seeing the puck.”

“Can’t wait to be full of you, Daddy, but this feels nice, too.”

It does. He’s wet, my cock’s loving the slippery slide and the more I move, the more feral I get. I grip his hips, digging my fingers into the creases like they’re handles. A growl rumbles from the deep recesses of me.

“You’re in so much fucking trouble.” This time it’s for being tempting. If he really knew what tempting me did, he wouldn’t do it. It makes me all the more possessive. It makes it so I’ll never let anyone else near him.

With a snarl, I speed up as if I’m fucking him.

My balls tighten, and my orgasm sneaks up on me, hot spurts of cum painting his ass.

I wanna be messy with him, stick to him, so I push him up the bed, spooning behind, and wrap my large body around him.

I position my still hard cock between his filthy wet cheeks and wrap a hand around his dick. “Do you wanna come?”

“Um, have you met me?” I chuckle next to his ear. “I-I didn’t think I got to, though, until we, y’know, until you fuck me.”

Aw, he’s a bit shy.

“That how you want it, princess?”

“I don’t know, I … Fuck,” he breathes, a little from frustration, a little from what I’m doing to his cock. “I’ve been digging the whole you decide thing.”

There’s that vulnerability again. Does he hear it, too? I’m sure he feels it. But if me deciding things is what he wants, I have zero issues with that.

“Alright. I’ve decided to give you two options.”

He groans. “I’m not gonna like either option, am I?”

I laugh. “Thought you liked me deciding?”

“I do, but I reserve the right to complain. I know it doesn’t make any fucking sense when I put words to it, but that’s just what feels right on the inside.”

I get that in a big way. More than he knows.

“Let’s see. Option number one is simple. I’ll keep doing this until you come.”

“Okay.”

“Or you wait until the next opportunity—with no guarantee there is one—but I’ll knock that extra day off you earned for telling your friend about us without my permission.”

“I’m crazy, but I’m going with option two. I hope it relays how badly I want you to fuck me. Any chance I can earn more days off?”

“I give you an inch, you take a mile.”

“Just wondering, Daddy.”

He shrugs as I continue to play with his cock, rubbing my thumb over the head. “Maybe. Just focus on being a good boy, that’s all you need to worry about.”

“Can I stay with you for a bit? Or am I getting kicked out right away for barging in?”

Right. I was in the middle of dinner. It’ll probably be cold by now. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay, fed, and hydrated.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“The shit we do is intense, McKinnon. An adrenaline rush. Sometimes there’s fallout.” I watched him like a hawk on the bus all the way home, and texted him a few times once we were back.

I run fingers through his shaggy hockey hair, wanting to kiss his crown so bad. Just a little press of my lips. He said other places were okay, but I haven’t yet, as if it’s too sacred a thing.

“My whole life is an adrenaline rush. I doubt you have to worry, but if it means I get to stay, then worry all you want.”

“I plan on it, punk—with or without your permission. Me taking care of you after sex will never be negotiable.”

He wiggles backward as if I’m a pillow he’s trying to snuggle into. “You’ll never hear a complaint from me about that one.”