I stare, tracing the lines of his bruised face with my eyes, the blooming splotches fuel my rage and possession. The ever-present need to make him mine.
“I used to be a paramedic. I feel obligated to help.”
“Really? Is the way you grabbed my face part of some new first-aid protocol, then? Because I’ve never been?—”
“Shut up, McKinnon.” Fucking little brat, but I can’t deny that my impulsivity’s to blame this time. “You’ve got to resolve this feud. How do you plan on doing that?”
He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “No idea. Now that I actually have to do schoolwork, that’s eating up a lot of the time I would have used to get other shit done.”
I shake my head. “Sorry that your education’s getting in the way of your social life, McKinnon.”
Ace mumbles something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, I’m only really here for hockey, sir. The rest is bullshit.”
That’s not what he said. I definitely made out something to do with “Mom”, but I let it go. His issues with his parents don’t concern me.
I rap his head with my knuckles. “Use this, McKinnon. Instead of solving the issue with more violence, harness the power of the two brain cells rolling around in here.”
He scowls. “Only if you admit that you don’t actually care about us retaliating with violence as much as you do me getting hurt.”
An arctic wind blows across him from my deadly glare. He flinches. “I’m in charge, not you. You’ll do it because I said so.”
But I should have known better than to challenge him right now, when it’s him who has the upper hand and he’s fucking figured that out.
I want to own him, tame him, break him, but seeing him beat to shit short-circuits my brain in a way I can’t hide. I’m in danger of giving him something he wants.
Resist.
Recovering, he blinks his pretty eyes. “Please, Daddy.”
Fuck me.
My hand traps his throat, forcing a gasp from him as it slowly dawns on him that he’s evoked more than he bargained for.
That’s right, Daddy’s not a caring lamb, princess. He’s the wolf, and he’ll eat you alive.
With my free hand, I use my thumb to toy with his plump bottom lip. I’m also struggling with the fact that he’s got all these marks on him, none of them from me. I’d love to bite his lip so hard it puffed up enough to let everyone know who he belongs to.
“Is that what you think, princess? That I care?” I shake my head. “You seem to have forgotten, I own you—you’re my property. That means you stay intact, ready for my use, not anybody else’s.”
Way too far. Way more than I wanted to say. But it’s all true. My heart pounds in time with his pulse point that’s currently under my index finger.
“If you want me to stay out of it, then you fix it without one more mark on you—not a single goddamn one. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to put my marks on you, and I’ll do that with my perfect leather strap. They’ll burn for days, reminding you of where you fucking belong. Now, what do you say?”
He licks his lips, afraid to move, vibrating with dark excitement. “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t think so, princess. Try that one again.”
A gorgeous flush creeps up his neck, slow, deep, devastating. “Yes, Daddy.”
He says it like it costs him something, but there’s also need. A need so deep, even he might not fully realize the raw vulnerability in what he just did. Now that’s the kind of shit that deserves my praise. Not the pouting brat, or the showboat hockey player who has something to prove. Authentic McKinnon, letting himself be who he really wants to be.
“Good boy.”
7
