Page 8 of His to Teach

Is he talking about the story or us? The double meaning hangs in the air between us, invisible to everyone else.

When class ends, he calls out over the rustle of papers and backpacks: "Miss Darling, a moment about your last assignment."

My pulse quickens as other students file out. He waits until the door closes behind the last one, then locks it with a decisive click.

"You were distracted today," he says, voice low.

I swallow hard. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"Gordon," he corrects, closing the distance between us. "When we're alone, I'm Gordon. Or..."

He trails off, and heat floods my face as I understand what he's waiting for. The word burns on my tongue, forbidden and thrilling.

"Daddy," I whisper.

His pupils dilate, nostrils flaring. "Good girl." His large hand cups my face. "Tell me why you were distracted."

"I couldn't stop thinking about…what we did. In your office."

"And?" His thumb traces my lower lip.

"And I got wet just listening to your voice." The confession tumbles out, shameful and exciting. "I'm wet right now."

He growls, spinning me around and bending me over the nearest desk. His body covers mine from behind, one hand splayed on my back to hold me down, the other pushing my skirt up around my waist.

"Let's see if you're telling the truth." His fingers find the crotch of my panties, pressing against the damp fabric. "Fuck, princess. Soaked through."

I whimper, pushing back against his touch. "Please..."

"Please what?" He hooks his fingers in my underwear, dragging them down my thighs. "Tell me what you need."

"You," I gasp. "Inside me."

"Inside where?" His voice drops lower, rougher. "Be specific."

Heat floods my face. "Inside my…my pussy."

"That's it," he praises. "Such a good girl, telling Daddy exactly what she needs."

I hear his belt unbuckle, the rasp of his zipper. Then the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I'm still tender from our first time, but I'm so wet it doesn't matter. He pushes inside in one long, slow thrust that makes me bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"Still so tight," he groans, hands gripping my hips. "So perfect for me."

He begins to move, each thrust harder than the last. The desk creaks beneath us, slides forward an inch across the floor. Anyone walking by the lecture hall might hear, might guess what's happening inside. The thought should terrify me. Instead, it makes me wetter.

"Look at my needy princess," he growls, one hand sliding around to rub my clit. "Dripping for forbidden cock. Right where your classmates sit every day."

I moan, shame and pleasure twisting together into something intoxicating. "Yes…yes..."

"You like that? Like knowing anyone could walk in and see you bent over, taking your professor's cock?"

"Yes," I gasp. "I shouldn't, but I do."

His rhythm turns punishing, each thrust driving me forward. "Come on my cock like a dirty little secret," he commands. "Let Daddy breed you where students sit every day."

The word "breed" sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through me. There's something primal about it, something possessive that speaks to a part of me I never knew existed. The idea of him filling me with his seed, claiming me so completely—it's too much.

"Please," I beg. "Please breed me, Daddy. Make me yours."