Page 43 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Luke

N o one has ever fucked me over harder than I do myself. How did I do it this time? I fell for someone. Now my heart is entirely in his quick hockey hands. I’m not fully to blame this time. At least half the blame resides on those fucking first years, talking about my princess the way they were.

It brought up all kinds of insecurities I didn’t know I had. I knew from the start this was an exploration for Ace. He’s usually the alpha bear, but for some reason, he wanted to see what things were like on the other side of the fence.

I was fine with being his guide through this little side journey of his, until he was so goddamn perfect for me.

He’s got the right mix of sassy and obedient that I like, keeping me on my toes, making me laugh when I don’t want to, while also making my palm twitchy like no other.

And there’s a charge when I’m near him. The world gets fuzzy.

Everything else but him ceases to exist. But it puts me in a bad situation because he could wake up tomorrow and decide he’s still the bear.

That I’m too much. That he doesn’t want my name tattooed on his neck.

Haven’t hit him up with that last one yet, but I will.

What I said to him on Wednesday was as close to the truth as I could allow and still get out of this mess with my dignity intact …

if he decides, after tonight, that we’re through.

Because I’m going to do it tonight. I’m finally going to get over my fear and fuck him the way I want to fuck him, like a feral beast. The way he—theoretically—should also crave it with every cell in his body.

But there’s really only one way to find out.

I don’t want it to look like I’m waiting around for him, but I’m waiting around for him, checking the time as it ticks closer to ten.

There’s an insistent knock on the door, but it’s only nine o’clock. Who the…?

Opening the door, Ace stands his full six feet, wearing nothing but a skirt made of leaves and a crown fashioned from vines and flowers. He’s painted with various shades of green camouflage, a dopey smile spread across his face.

“Why are you a tree, McKinnon?”

“Not a tree, Jungle King,” he corrects. “I’ve just come from a place where everyone called me King Kinnon or Lord Ace all night, I’ll have you know.”

Gripping his wrist, I yank him inside and slam the door shut, locking it.

“Not fond of you parading around half-naked. These are my goods to view, no one else’s.

” My eyes rake up and down his body. He’s a sculpted wonder, every muscle primed for force.

But then I spy something. “Ooooh, you’re in so much fucking trouble. ”

“Why?”

“I can see your ass in that costume, which means so could everyone else.”

“Oh, c’mon. No need for jealousy after all our hearts and shit, Daddy.”

The little shit is eating this up.

“Maybe if I brand your ass permanently red, you’ll be less likely to show it off.” Gripping his wrists, I slam him against the door, crowding my larger body around him. His chest rises and falls in sync with mine.

“I’m game for that,” he breathes.

I attack, crushing his lips, calling forth a perfect storm between us. I can kiss him now. The real thing I craved. Never have I wanted to kiss someone more. Was it because it was forbidden or because it was him?

It’s him.

He tastes like sin. He tastes like my undoing.

Now that I can kiss him whenever I want, that’s all I wanna do. My tongue demands entrance, and he’s perfectly pliable beneath me. All that muscle, all that force, it’s mine. He breathes me in as I take his mouth, kissing away anyone who’s dared kiss him before me.

“You’re early,” I murmur, pressing more kisses to his face and on his neck, all the places I’ve wanted to for weeks.

“I missed you, I think. I don’t know. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’ve never been bored at a party in my life, yet there I was, trying to have fun, and I couldn’t. This is fucking weird for me.”

“You sure it’s not the lack of alcohol?” I say, between the kisses I press to his painted green collarbone. I made him promise he’d only have a drink or two, without telling him why. Because if I conjure up the courage to fuck him, I’m not doing it with him halfway from consciousness.

He shakes his head. “It’s not that. I just, fuck, Luke, you gonna make me say it?”

“Yes. If I have to admit to shit, so do you.”

“Ugh. Fine. Life is fucking colorless when you’re not with me.”

How many ways can we say the L-word without saying the L-word?

I might start writing them down. But it gives me the courage I’m looking for.

I grip one of his bare thighs, wrapping it around me, shoving my hand up the ludicrous leaf skirt he’s wearing.

My hand meets scratchy lace, covering a thick erection.

“You wore them.”

“Um, yeah. What Daddy wants, Daddy gets,” he says, cheeks heating, barely able to meet my eyes.

I slipped a box into his duffle bag after class on Friday with a note inside:

Daddy wants to see you in these, princess.

They’re thong and specially made for men so they can hold all his bulk. Lacy pink, of course. I’ve been dying to see my princess in lacy pink.

“I’m gonna destroy you, puck bunny.” Fuck it. I need to have him. “Get your ass upstairs. We’re washing this green shit off of you.”

“You don’t want to fuck the Lord of the Jungle?” he says.

“I’m not fucking an overgrown Peter Pan.”

“Weird, everyone else wanted to.”

“That’s it. You’d better fucking run, McKinnon.”

“Gah!”

I get a spank in on his nearly bare ass, and he’s a flourish of leaves and forest green as he stampedes toward the stairs.

I followed Ace into the shower. He thought we were gonna have some sexy times in there, but he thought wrong.

I’d made him remove the special panties, so they weren’t stained green, and helped him scrub until he no longer resembled a flipping orc.

When I was satisfied, I made him put the panties back on, and then I turned him over my naked thighs for a spanking that shaded his bare ass sixty-two shades of red.

“There, your ass matches your panties now, baby,” I’d said proudly.

“Oh, what would I have done without your able hand, Daddy?” he said sarcastically enough that I knew he was being sassy, but not far enough over the line that I pulled out my wooden paddle. I did give him “the look”, though, the one a brat intuitively knows means it’s time to zip it and behave.

It’s stuff like that, slowly solidifying my confidence that he’s a brat after all.

Now we’re naked on my bed with only the lacy panties between us, my arms full of Ace, and I’m just savoring.

The scent of him, his searing hot skin, the way the bulge in his panties hasn’t changed.

And he’s being good, oh so good. I’m sure he wants to rub against me, he must be the horniest he’s ever been, but he doesn’t, tracing fingers over my tattoos to distract from his raging hard-on and blue balls.

All I have to do is roll him over, lube him up, and fuck into him until he sees the promised lands, but I fucking can’t.

This has got to be irony or hell. Maybe both.

Because no matter how much I threaten that I’d find his ass if he tried to leave me—and I would—I only really want him if he wants me too. Right now, being owned is a fantasy of his. Often, the fantasy’s better than the reality.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says.

“That’s never good news, McKinnon.”

“Hey, asshole.”

He whacks my shoulder, and I grab his wrist and kiss his knuckles. “Okay, let’s hear it, princess.”

“I think you’re afraid to fuck me.”

The cocky little shit is a smart one. “I’m not?—”

“Go ahead, lie to my face.”

I huff. “I’m not your usual either. This is just a trial run for you; for me, it’s who I am. I couldn’t … fuck … if you’re a toppy-type McKinnon, I don’t swing that way at all. I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

Especially now that I’ve discovered I have one to break.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Oh, Luke.

No. Nuh-uh. Yeah, it began as an exploration, but consider this exploration successful.

” He shakes his head. “You didn’t unlock something, you named it.

No one’s ever made me feel this way. Never.

I’ve never even wanted to be someone’s anything—boyfriend, partner, whatever. I thought I was broken.”

I’d like to believe him. Hell, I know he means it.

But I’ve heard these words before. It’s easy to think you’re some kind of way for a few weeks, while it’s fun and new, but after a few months, it gets stale if it’s not the way you’re wired inside.

And with someone like me? I become way too fucking much.

My arms tighten around him. This is so fucking stupid. But it’s not just that I want this, it’s that I can’t imagine not having it with Ace. There’s something in him that makes sense to every dark, rigid part of me.

And I’m falling.

Fucking falling.

“Maybe I should see,” he teases, lips brushing my ear. “Top a couple of hotties. Make sure this isn’t a phase.”

“What?” Is he saying what I think he’s fucking saying? My brain inventories every rope, cuff, and restraint I own. I will tie his chaotic ass up if he even breathes like he’s leaving me.

“Yeah. You won’t believe me until I’ve gone back to the way things used to be, so I’ll do that. Several Delta sisters came on to me tonight, plus those two ballsy first years who think I’m a bear or somethin’.”

Know what? Rope and chain won’t be enough. A cage, that’s what I need. One large enough to fit a hockey player and his oversized ego.

“No,” I growl. “Absolutely fucking not.”

I flip him on his back, pinning his wrists above his head at the same time. “These stay here, understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he purrs, the brat. He did this on purpose, triggering my possessiveness button. But now that he has, there’s no turning back. He asked for what he’s about to get. He might regret it when he can’t walk tomorrow.

I reach into my drawer for the lube and barely register the snick of the cap. It’s open and ready for when I need it, but I don’t douse him in lube yet. Instead, I nip at his lace-covered cock with my teeth, enjoying the way he writhes.

“This body is mine, isn’t it, princess?”

“It is. Fucking hell, Daddy. It. Is.”

“Look at you. Desperate for whatever I’ll do to you.”

He moans and whimpers at the same time.

“Must have been hell, all that cock and pussy throwing itself at you tonight, none of it available to your poor, denied cock.” It’s been a week and a half since I last allowed him an orgasm; he must be delirious with need. “And why weren’t you allowed, baby?”

“Because Daddy said so, and I belong to you,” he says.

“That’s right. You only get to use this, to relieve it at my say so. Every part of you belongs to me.”

He pants, cock straining behind the lace. I tease, using the lightest touch to run my fingers over the shaft.

“B-But, also, Luke, they do nothing for me. Not a single fucking thing. All I did was ache for you.”

There’s no sass, no sarcasm when he says that, only pure earnestness laced with a plea that I’ll believe him. Am I one hundred percent sure that he’s not gonna leave my ass in the morning? No. But I’m taking his anyway, and then we’ll see.

I have to know.

We have to know.

This feels big, bigger than us.

Is that what real love is like?

“Spread these thick legs for Daddy, princess,” I tell him. “Feet on the bed.”

He obeys quickly, and I slide the pink thong aside to play with his hole. I want to leave these on. Besides how gorgeous they look on his big frame, they trap his cock nicely. I love having his cock tucked away and at my mercy. From the way his breathing stutters, he does, too.

Now I dump the lube, more than enough to make him wet and slippery, but without ruining his pretty panties. I wanna keep these. I twist two of my fat fingers into him. He’s open for me, splayed wide.

“Such a good boy, showing Daddy your hole like that.”

“Fuck. I’m on a hair trigger, Luke. You’re gonna make me come, talking like that.”

There’s juuuuust enough ass cheek available to me with him on his back. Crack! “No. You don’t have permission until I’m inside of you, baby.”

“Mmmm, but those fingers aren’t fair. You know what your fingers do to me. Please, please gimme your cock. I’m ready for it.”

I have a new problem, though. I want to take him. I want to turn him over, grab his hips, and drill my cock into his ass so fucking hard that he forgets his name. Forgets everything, except for me, hanging onto reality by my cock alone.

Doing that means love to me. But to most, they want the sweet-ass shit.

They want staring into eyes, slow-boning, and whispered endearments.

I guess I could force myself to do that if he wants me to, nothing wrong with any of that, but to me, it’s the rough stuff that’s meaningful.

It’s carving my dick into his insides and embossing my marks onto his body.

That’s how I’m wired. That’s my love language.

Is it too much to want to be with someone who has the same love language rather than having to mold mine to fit theirs? Or even the other way around. I’d never want someone forcing themselves to be something they’re not, just to be with me.

“Yawn,” he says. Yeah, says. It’s not a real yawn; it’s him being a fucking brat. I wait for whatever asinine thing’s about to come out of his mouth. “Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree here. You promised a taking, an owning. This is some basic ass?—”

“Shut the fuck up, McKinnon. Or at least make that mouth of yours useful and start begging for mercy.”

A strangled yelp peals out of him as I flip him over.