Page 42 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Wait, he has a class after this one, is he just gonna not go? Man, okay, Shep might be right. He isn’t the best professor when it comes to everything else besides being smart. But, d’awwww, he’s doing it for me.

Yep, fucking burly-ass teddy bear.

“You didn’t have to drag me to your place to watch me sleep,” I grouse when I trounce down the stairs, refreshed and ready for life again.

“I did. Tell me you would have obeyed me otherwise.”

I am sooooo not falling into that trap, so I flutter my long lashes and distract him with a goofy grin.

“Wat’cha got there, Daddy?”

Giving me a look that means he thinks I’m ridiculous, he hands me a cold glass of purple something instead of an answer. I’m not picky, so I take a sip. It’s berries, banana, and another flavor. Vanilla, maybe? “This is fucking good.”

Luke watches me with quiet eyes I can’t read.

“You’re making me nervous. If you’re pissed at me, could you just tell me?”

He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “I’m not mad, I’m frustrated.”

“That sounds just as bad.”

“It’s not. Come to Daddy, gorgeous.”

He’s never … fuck when he says that … shit, I might be short circuiting.

I set the smoothie down and force my shaky legs to carry me over to him.

Somehow, I know he’ll find my lips with his thumb.

It’s the first thing he does before gripping me by the small of my back and pulling us together until our crotches meet.

He’s hard, and so am I. It takes all my hockey god willpower not to rub against him, something that’ll surely earn me some kind of demerits in Luke’s reward and punishment system.

“How long till the pledge week shit is over with?”

“Saturday’s the last day.”

He shakes his head. “Ballerina tutus? Really?”

It’s not hard to spot the pledges all over campus in their attire. “Thought you’d like a parade of pretty princesses all over campus, Daddy.”

“Nuh-uh. I have my pretty princess, and he’s the only one I need. But that reminds me, open your neck, baby.”

I respond to his voice on command by this point, opening my neck for him.

His lips attach themselves and they suck.

Hard. The sensation barrels in a wave straight for my cock and there’s a bit of pain as he tugs with his teeth and renews the marks he likes to leave.

When he releases me, there’s a delicious throb.

“You possessive bastard,” I say, rubbing over the wet spot on my neck where a hickey’s probably already sprouted. I don’t know what brought it on, but that was a burst of jealousy if I’ve ever seen one.

“If a bunch of cute first-year pledges are lusting after you, thinking they’re getting into your pants at whatever inane party your house throws Saturday, they’re wrong.”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

“It’s all they talk about. I kicked two ‘ballerinas’ out of my first-year class for saying they bet you fucked like a wild bear.”

Thinking about that turns me right off. Wow. So much has changed. A few short weeks ago, I would have jumped at the chance to bang some first years. But has it? Changed, I mean. Or have I just … found what my heart was looking for?

His thumb’s on my lips again. This time it lingers there.

“You want to kiss me, Daddy,” I accuse. He knows what that means to me. He knows why I said he couldn’t do it.

“No,” he denies with a bit of petulance. Yep, I definitely detect petulance. “I was considering forbidding you from attending any more parties with lusty little first years.”

“Not gonna lie, I kinda like you jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I’d have to worry about losing you to be jealous.”

“You asshole. Fine fuck?—”

Dominant fingers slide into my hair, trapping me where I am. “I’m not worried, Ace, because I know you’re fucking mine.”

His words breathe fire against my neck. I am, but I also don’t want to give in. It’s fucking stupid by this point, but it’s the most terrifying thing in existence. Feelings. Love. Sex is simple but love hurts.

He smacks my ass. “Be here Saturday, promptly at eight. I’ll send you something to wear.”

“What the fuck , Luke? I’m the president. I have to be there.”

Luke stares into my soul. It’s a plea without saying please, but there’s also something unbending about him. I’m not gonna win this one, and I don’t know that I want to.

“Midnight,” I wheedle. This is important to him, but we’ve got to find a halfway point on this one. I can’t abandon my house duties.

“Ten pm, best offer.”

“Ten it is, Daddy.”

I’m already in his arms, so he slides a covetous hand down my pants, grabbing a handful of my ass.

“Admit that you were jealous,” I demand, sliding my hand up my neck to trace the mark he left there.

“They’re young, and cute, and soooo not my type,” he says when he sees my scowl forming.

“Sounds like your type to me,” I snap.

“I don’t think you get what an anomaly you are among my repertoire of bedmates.”

Being an anomaly could be a good or bad thing—which one am I? He was the one who was supposed to be jealous of the first years, but now I am. And what a lot of people don’t get about being bisexual is that it’s not just one gender on the table, it’s everybody.

The women who make goo-goo eyes at him are so damn gorgeous. I should tear their fucking eyes out.

Not that I’d ever actually hurt a woman.

Ugh, jealousy is a fickle bitch.

Still can’t say the words, though. The words that would lay my heart out for him to run over.

I fight my head out of his grasp, or try to, so I can storm away.

Man, he’s fucking strong. Goddamn werewolf man.

The thought of what all that strength would be like as he ploughs me from behind warms my cock again.

Benefits of being young and vital, I guess—I’m nothing more than a squirrel distracted by a nut when it comes to sex.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours? And why am I in trouble now?”

“You’re not. I just … I should go.”

“Not on this fucking note you’re not, McKinnon. I don’t do bullshit. Spill it.”

I don’t wanna do bullshit either. I take a breath. “How am I an anomaly?”

“You would make me say that .” He sighs, staring at my face, mind whirling to fit the pieces together. “I’m not usually into younger men or women, for that matter. Too immature. They do nothing for me.”

“But you’re into me?”

“Starting to question your intelligence?—”

“It’s not just for my pretty ass?”

“An ass I haven’t fucked yet.”

“Believe me, I know that.”

The fingers threaded into my hair tug, pain pierces my scalp.

“Then why won’t you fucking do it, Luke?”

“Because I don’t want you to leave me, okay?” His words are more of a lion’s roar than they are human. Did he just say what I think he did? Unfortunately for him, I am kind of an immature college prick. I only know how to respond in sass.

“Thought you just said I was yours, dumbass.”

“Hey, watch it, McKinnon.” He releases my head as if he finally feels comfortable to do so—I won’t scamper away like a bunny—but he doesn’t let go of me. “Don’t let this get to your already over-inflated ego, but yeah, I caught feelings for you—is that how the youth says it?”

“We do.” A slow smile creeps onto my lips. “I, um. Same.”

“You can’t even say it.”

Fine. I’ll tell him. Except I don’t have the words to tell him how I feel about him.

Yet.

But I’ve got something better.

Diving without thinking, I catch his lips with mine. For one terrifying second, he doesn’t move, just stands there like a scared wild animal.

Then his hands come to life, one bear-paw-like hand seizes the back of my neck, anchoring me. The other grabs my hip, fingers curling around it as if he’s clawing his ownership into the bone.

“Oh, McKinnon,” he murmurs against my lips, the words scratching from his throat as if they’ve had to claw their way up slowly. “That’s it. It’s over for you.”

And then he kisses me back.

It’s not soft, it sure as fuck ain’t sweet.

It’s raw, just like him. Commanding. Fiery desire in the shape of a kiss.

Luke’s tongue plunges into my mouth, taking over, setting up permanent territory.

His. I’m his. I can almost feel the plans he’s making to let the world fucking know this fact as he stamps his fucking name behind my teeth.

My knees nearly give out.

I grab his loose gray shirt, fist it like a lifeline, letting my body melt into his.

I started this, but he’s devouring me now.

It fills my body with a sense of myself that I’ve been looking for.

It’s everything I’ve been avoiding, everything I’ve been fucking scared of.

I’m not afraid of wanting Luke, I’m afraid of wanting him this bad.

But I refuse to pull away, because it’s also everything I’ve secretly longed for. Everything I hoped could exist, not just for others, but for me too.

A low rumble in his chest vibrates against me as he deepens the kiss, his massive ribcage rising with his slow inhale. The taste of him—like danger and safety at the same time. Because he’s an asylum for me, but a fucking force to be reckoned with for anyone else.

When we finally part, I’m panting against his lips. Woozy. Off-balance. Still clinging to his shirt so I don’t float away.

“It fucking figures,” I say, catching my breath. “You’re my damn lobster.”

“Lobster, McKinnon? Don’t know that I consider being called a lobster a compliment, especially after a kiss like that.”

“You know, lobster. Like, hearts and shit.”

“Hmm, on second thought, looks like I’ve kissed you stupid. Literally. I give myself five gold stars for that.”

Clearly, he never watched Friends reruns when he was home sick with the flu.

“Tell me you feel the same, asshole.” There’s a catch in my voice, one loaded with a new level of vulnerability unlocked.

Because if somehow I’ve misread everything and he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll expire right here in his arms.

Luke hooks a finger under my chin, adjusting my gaze so it’s looking into his. Heat pours off him, searing every cell of me. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way Luke does.

“If you died, I wouldn’t be sad, I’d be furious. I’d walk into the underworld to retrieve you, princess, but it’s not going to come to that. Death wouldn’t dare take you from me.” He shows his teeth as if Death might be around the corner. “Does that clear things up for you?”

My fingers are still hooked into the collar of his t-shirt. I pull tight until he’s close enough for me to rest my head on his shoulder, and I nod into it.

Luke can’t seem to say his feelings outright either. It’s a comfort. I like our fucked-up dance of fear around emotions. We’re the same.

“Crystal clear, Daddy,” I murmur.