Page 48 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Luke

A ce only thought there was nothing left of him. As soon as he enters my temporary abode, I bend him over the counter and wrench the last of his sanity from him, making him beg for an orgasm until his voice is hoarse.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” he chants. “ Please. ”

I’ll never get tired of those words. Not possible. I’ll never get tired of this perfect, round ass either. I reach around to grip his cock. “Let’s see you come, baby.”

After, we shower. I’d like to dress him in something of mine, but he’ll have to leave soon, and he can’t go home in my stuff, so the clothing he brought from his bag will have to do. I make him sit on the kitchen counter beside me while I cook us a meal.

“You gonna tell me where you learned to fight like that?” he asks.

I’ve been waiting for the question. It’s a normal question, but it doesn’t have a normal answer.

And this time, when we showered, he paid extra-close attention to the graphic story written on my skin.

Most of the old scars have faded to white lines, but others remain, stubborn pink, loud tattletales.

“My uncle and his friends.” Oil sizzles in the pan, and I add my seasoned beef steaks. All the while, I feel his eyes on me, wondering if he should pursue it.

Of course, he does. He’s a curious puck bunny.

“Why do I get the sense it wasn’t a recreational activity?”

“It wasn’t.” I slide broccoli from the cutting board into the steamer, just as the rice cooker clicks, signaling the rice is done.

“Um, sounds like something you don’t like to talk about. You don’t have to.”

“I don’t like talking about it.” It’s in the past now, there’s no real reason to bring it up, but I have the undeniable urge to tell him. I want him to know me. “Our parents died when Tatum and I were young—I was eight and he was six. Only a two-year age difference, but it’s always felt colossal.”

“You protect him,” he devises.

I nod because I do in a big way. He hops off the counter when he sees I’m ready to plate up, handing me plates from the cupboard.

“Our uncle—Dad’s brother—took us in.” I shiver at the memory. I put on a brave face for Tate, but inside I was a terrified mess. I was only eight, but I felt thirty-eight. I shook Uncle Jasper’s hand instead of whatever it is kids do. It was fitting since that day marked the end of my childhood.

“You haven’t said much, but the vibe is foreboding as fuck.” Ace sets the plates on the counter, and I use tongs to place a steaming steak on each. “Is he a dickface?”

I laugh, imagining Ace calling him a dickface to his face. “Yeah, he was a dickface.”

His hand snaps out, and his thumb runs over one of the smaller scars on my wrist. “Did he leave these?”

“Some. Most are a result of the consequences of boxing.”

“You said was. So … he’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I should give condolences or not.” He takes his hand back.

“How about you let me tell the story, hmm?”

“Shutting up, sir.”

I doubt it, but I pile rice and broccoli onto each plate as I figure out how to describe Uncle Jasper. “He was unrelenting and cruel when he felt he needed to be. Severe, but fair.” I pause on the word fair. Uncle Jasper’s view of fair might differ from Ace’s. I know it would.

He studies me, scooping up the now full plates, a wet curl fallen in the middle of his forehead, biting his lip in the way that makes him look so innocent that I have to ruin him.

Ace isn’t a stranger to hardships; losing his mother took something from him, but the way I grew up is a story you hope is only true in fiction.

“Sit,” I grunt.

Ace sets the plates down, and I pour a little wine for us. Talking about my uncle requires alcohol.

“You’re sweating, Daddy. You sure you wanna talk about this?”

“Would you rather not hear?”

“Oh, no. I wanna know everything about you, but I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Scared.”

Shit, am I? I clear my throat. He’s not here to rule my life anymore. “He ran a strict household, which didn’t suit Tate.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Your hard ass probably thrived,” he teases. A knot in my chest releases.

“Tate hated it with Uncle Jasper, but we didn’t have anywhere else to go. I promised him all the time I’d make a better life for him. An easy one. Uncle Jasper overheard us.” He punished me soundly, but Ace doesn’t need to hear that part. He can probably guess. “He had a proposition for me.”

“Yeah?” Ace chews a mouthful of steak, humming about the taste as juices leak from his lips. His tongue licks them away, and I want to lick him.

“He noticed my size. I was growing rapidly. Part of how Uncle amassed his fortune was in the underground fighting ring.”

“A real-life fight club?”

“Sort of, but an even more illegal one that allows fifteen-year-old boys to participate.”

“You were fifteen?”

“When I started. Yes.”

“Fuck, Luke.”

I tear off a hefty bite of steak, sinking my molars into the hot beef, hard. It’s better I chew than respond to that until I can gather my wits.

“I still have complicated feelings about the whole thing. I was terrified at first, but I grew to like it. Hated the training, but it was necessary.” And like any teenager, some nights I plain didn’t feel like it, but I still had to go. Even for the opponents I knew were gonna kick my fucking ass.

“I’ve decided already, I’m glad the bastard’s dead—sorry, not sorry.”

I smile. He’s an endearing menace, saying something like that on my behalf, but I bet Uncle Jasper would have made him sorry. That’s if he could get his hands on Ace. I’d never let that happen.

“This steak is fucking awesome by the way. Soooo, what was the deal? He must have given you something good for you to accept.”

I take a sip of wine. “He did. He let me handle Tate and promised he would never involve him so long as I behaved. There were a few requirements for him not to step in, but I made sure that was never the case.”

Uncle Jasper wasn’t going to have either of us running amok. There was a curfew, and children were seen and not heard. We were required to pursue doctorates, but Tate was allowed to get his in education because I allowed it; I got mine in Philosophy because Uncle Jasper chose for me.

“I also wanted his fortune.” For that, I had to do a lot more than a few fights in the ring. He made me prove myself over and over through sick tests of loyalty. I keep that part to myself. It’s disturbing shit that Ace doesn’t need giving him nightmares.

“So, are you mega rich?”

“Would it be hard to believe if I was?”

“Kinda, yeah. You’re Mr. Mountain Man. You like the simple things.”

I nod.

“After he died, all I wanted was freedom. The wilderness is the freest place there is.” Free from the rat race, free from societal norms, free to be who I want to be.

Unfortunately, that includes a little violence now.

Fighting in the ring awakened something primitive in me that never went away.

“But no, I’m not mega-rich, yet.” I explain what has to happen for me to receive the rest of the fortune.

I have a bit of an allowance, something livable.

Ace sips his wine, shaking his head, probably thinking similar things about Uncle Jasper as Tate does. “Where do you and the wilderness stand now? Um, because, well, I can’t play hockey in the wilderness, Luke.”

“Don’t worry, princess. Daddy’ll only drag you to his wilderness lair during the off-season.” I shine my teeth at him enough to pull a delicious shiver. I’m gonna need dessert after this, and I know just the ass I’m gonna eat.

“Whatever happened to the illegal underground fighting racket?”

“Someone sent an anonymous tip to the FBI.”

“Someone, eh?”

“Yeah. Someone.”

We eat in silence for a bit, digesting the past. “I’ll admit, I probably don’t want to know more than you told me, but I’m curious about your uncle. I don’t like what he did to you, but he still raised you. He must have been interesting.”

“He was definitely interesting and oddly prone to good bits of life advice. However hard I had it, he had it ten times harder when he was younger. But I’m glad he’s no longer around, too.”

I wouldn’t want him anywhere near Ace.

“Eat up, Daddy has a special dessert planned for you, baby.”

“Awesome. I hope it’s something with sweet peaches. Fuck do I love sweet peach nectar.”

“Something like that.” One, I think he’ll like even better.