Page 65 of Off-Ice Misconduct
“Please, what, princess?” My voice is rough with sleep, but that doesn’t take away from the command.
“Touch my cock, Daddy.”
“Such a greedy, princess—Daddy touched your cock last night.” But I can’t help spoiling him this morning. He deserves it. I shove my hand south, gripping the outline of his cock through his boxers. “But you’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?”
I’m the one rewarded with a little moan. I love the sounds I pull from him. Such a big, powerful man, under my control. The heat of him sings through my blood like dark temptation, my cock aching to be in him, rutting, owning his insides, too.
Ace is awake now, gently thrusting into my hand, but it all serves to remind me of how painfully hard I am. I held back last night, looked after him—as I should have—but there’s only so long I can deny myself before I lose control.
“You still wanna play with Daddy’s cock, princess?”
“Yes. Please, yes.”
I need to know … something. Not about him, about me. I tap his nose. “Down.”
Only Ace could get a look that devilish first thing in the morning. His eyes do a brief pass over my mostly naked body. Now that he’s alert, and there’s no darkness to hide anything, he can see them, the scars, the reminder of my other life, telling a story for me whether I want to share it or not. But at least Ace leaves the questions hanging in the air for when I’m ready to tell him.
He drags his lips against my bare torso, letting his teeth catch on the waistband of my boxers, way too expertly lifting them so the elastic doesn’t catch on the head of my dick.
I’m conflicted. A move like that turns me the fuck on. But you only get good at something like that with practice.
“You’re such a growly fucker,” he says with his eyes on the dick he’s just unveiled for himself.
Did I growl? If I did, it wasn’t on purpose. He pulls the leash off every animal instinct I’ve spent the second part of my life trying to cage.
Threading my fingers through his hair slowly, I cinch them suddenly. “Say, ‘please’, princess. You don’t get my cock just for being pretty. You get it for behaving yourself and being mine.”
Mine. Only mine. I’ll erase every fucker that came before me.
Ace inhales a long breath of whatever I smell like. “Please let me have your cock, Daddy. Because I’m yours and because I’m so goddamn beautiful you wanna break me,” he says.
“Little fucking brat.” But I’d be a liar if I denied it—he’s the most incredible creature I’ve laid eyes upon. “One day I’m gonna fuck the attitude right out of you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Promises, promises,” he taunts. He shouldn’t. He doesn’t understand how important it is for me to havesomecontrol. With him, it’ll be a thread, but even that thread is better than nothing.
“Get that lippy mouth around my cock.”
Using the flat of his tongue, he licks up the shaft and sheathes my dick in his hot mouth. When he tries to move, I hold him there.
“No. Stay. Pretty things are ornaments, but you’re more like a toy, aren’t you? My pretty, pretty sex toy, warming Daddy’s cock.”
“Mmmm,” he hums in agreement around my cock.
“If you can’t breathe, don’t wait for a signal from me, just pull off. Otherwise, you stay.” I’ll be watching him closely, too. I want to learn about him, everything, all his little tells. But equally as important as learning about him is conditioning for me. Having his mouth on me, the intense urge to just fucking drill him, but refraining.
That’s what I want to see—if I can restrain myself, if my instincts work with him when I’m beyond myself. Restraint and Intuition. Things I’ve learned to live by.
But his mouth is so fucking good that the willpower to keep my composure’s hard to come by. His lips are flushed, spit-slick, stretched wide, breathing against my cock. The pressure’s too perfect, the slow melt of his tongue against the underside of my shaft, making it hard for me to stay still. I wanna hold him in place, make him choke on me.
I brush a thumb against his cheek. “That’s it, so, so good for me.”
His eyes smile. He flutters them on purpose. He’s used to being good at everything. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, about to burst from the will of restraint. My taste buds detect copper. Blood.
Relax, Luke.
But it’s as if I’m at war, testing my ability to hold just as much as I’m testing him, dying to move just a fraction as my arousal reaches a rolling boil. Every nerve in my body screams to grab him by the hair and use that sinful mouth until he cries. Until his throat’s raw. Until he knows just what the fuck he does to me.
I don’t.
