Chapter 3
three
. . .
Gordon
A soft knock at the door. My head snaps up.
"Come in."
The door opens, and there she is. Flower.
Appropriately named for once, because she looks like something that bloomed just for me in a white sundress that skims her thighs, exposing slender legs that seem to go on forever despite her petite frame.
Her hair is loose today, tumbling past her shoulders in waves that catch the afternoon light.
She clutches a folder to her chest like a shield.
"Professor Davis." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. "Do you have a moment to discuss my revision?"
I lean back in my chair, gesturing to the seat across from my desk. "Of course, Miss Darling. That's what office hours are for."
She walks toward me, and I track the sway of her hips, the nervous way she tucks her hair behind one ear.
As she nears my desk, her pen slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor.
She freezes for a second, then bends to retrieve it—a slow, deliberate movement that makes her sundress ride up her thighs.
My mouth goes dry as I glimpse the curve where thigh meets ass, a flash of pale blue underwear.
It's not an accident. She knows exactly what she's doing.
I'm out of my chair before she straightens, moving around the desk. She rises, pen in hand, eyes wide with faux innocence. We stand too close, the space between us charged with something dangerous.
"Your pen," she says, holding it out.
I ignore it, reaching past her to push the door closed. The lock clicks with a sound of finality.
"Professor?" Her voice wavers, but she doesn't step back.
"You're begging to be taught a lesson, princess." The nickname slips out unbidden, rough with desire. "Bending over like that in my office. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?"
Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes hold mine. "I don't know what you mean."
"Liar." I take the pen from her hand, toss it onto my desk. "You've been playing this game for weeks. Staying after class. Challenging me. Watching me with those big innocent eyes while wearing skirts that should be illegal."
"I'm not—"
"You are." I step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "And now you're here, alone, in my locked office. Why?"
She swallows hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "To discuss my paper."
"Bullshit."
Another step, and she's backed against my desk, nowhere to retreat. I place my hands on either side of her, caging her in without touching her. I can smell her perfume—something light and floral—mixed with the scent of her arousal. Yes, she wants this as badly as I do.
"Tell me the truth, Flower. Why are you here?"
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Because I can't stop thinking about you." The confession rushes out of her, almost desperate. "About the way you look at me. The way you call me Miss Darling. The way you called me 'little girl' that day after class."
My cock hardens instantly at the reminder. "And how did that make you feel? Being called little girl?"
"It should have made me angry." Her voice drops to a whisper. "But it made me wet."
Fuck. I grab her waist and lift her onto my desk in one fluid motion, papers scattering. Her sundress rides up her thighs as she gasps in surprise.
"Professor—"
"Gordon," I growl. "If we're doing this, you call me Gordon."
"Gordon," she repeats, testing the name on her tongue.
I step between her parted knees, one hand sliding into her hair, tilting her face up to mine. "Last chance to walk away, princess."
Her response is to reach for me, small hands gripping my shirt. "I don't want to walk away."
I crush my mouth to hers. She makes a small, surprised sound against my lips, then melts into me. Her lips are soft, pliant, and utterly inexperienced. I slow down, gentling my approach, teaching her with my tongue how to open for me. When I finally pull back, she's breathing hard, eyes dazed.
"Have you ever been kissed before? Properly?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
She shakes her head. "Not like that."
"What about touched?" My hand finds her knee, slides up her thigh. "Has anyone touched you, princess?"
Another shake of her head, more vigorous this time. "Never. No one has ever…I've never..."
A virgin. Eighteen and untouched. Shame and triumph collide inside me—shame because I'm about to ruin something pure, triumph because I'll be the first and only man to have her. She's mine in a way no student should ever be.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask, giving her one final out.
"Yes," she whispers, voice shaking. "Please.”
Those words snap the last thread of my restraint. I kiss her again, harder this time, my tongue claiming her mouth while my hands push her dress up around her waist. She whimpers when I pull back, but I need to see her. All of her.
"Stand up," I order, stepping back. "Take it off."
She slides off the desk on unsteady legs and reaches for the hem of her sundress.
There's a moment of hesitation, then she pulls it over her head in one fluid motion.
She stands before me in nothing but pale blue underwear and a matching bra, her body small and perfect.
Full breasts, tiny waist, smooth pale skin that I want to mark as mine.
"Beautiful," I murmur, and she blushes from her cheeks to the tops of her breasts.
I strip efficiently—shirt, belt, pants—until I'm down to my boxer briefs, cock straining against the fabric. Her eyes widen as she takes in my body, lingering on the obvious bulge.
"Will it…fit?" she asks, and the innocent question nearly undoes me.
"We'll make it fit, princess." I guide her back onto the desk. "Lie back for me."
She obeys, lying back across my desk, papers crunching beneath her. I hook my fingers in her underwear and pull them down her legs, exposing her completely. Her pussy is pink and perfect, already slick with arousal. I spread her thighs wider, exposing her to my gaze.
"Look how wet you are for me," I growl, running one finger through her folds. She gasps, hips jerking. "Such a good little girl, opening so perfectly for her professor."
Her eyes fly to mine at the phrase "little girl," pupils dilating with arousal.
I keep stroking her, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan. When I slide one finger inside her, she's impossibly tight, her inner walls gripping me like a vise. I work her slowly, adding a second finger when she's ready, stretching her carefully for what's to come.
"Please," she begs, hips rising to meet my touch. "I need…I need..."
"What do you need, princess? Tell me."
"You. Inside me. Please."
I free my cock from my boxers, thick and heavy in my hand. I stroke myself once, twice, then position myself at her entrance. "This might hurt at first. Tell me if you need me to stop."
She nods, eyes locked on mine with absolute trust. I press forward, just the head breaching her tight entrance. She winces, and I freeze.
"Breathe," I instruct her. "Relax for me, little girl."
Something about those words makes her soften, her body yielding to me. I push forward slowly, inch by careful inch, watching her face for signs of pain. When I'm fully seated inside her, I hold still, letting her adjust to the invasion.
"So tight," I groan. "So perfect for me."
"It feels..." she gasps, eyes wide. "So full. So much."
I begin to move, slow, shallow thrusts that gradually deepen as she opens for me. The sight of my cock disappearing into her virgin pussy is the most erotic thing I've ever seen. Each thrust easier than the last as her body learns to take me.
"That's it," I praise her, voice rough. "Such a good little girl, opening so perfectly for her professor."
She moans at the words, her hips rising to meet mine.
"You like that?" I growl, thrusting deeper. "Like being my good little girl?"
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, please."
Something primal takes over, words pouring from my mouth unchecked. "Gonna fill this tight virgin cunt until you're round and leaking my seed. You want that? Want me to breed you right here on my desk?"
Her eyes widen, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she nods frantically, legs wrapping around my waist to pull me deeper.
"Say it," I command. "Tell me what you want."
"Want you to fill me," she whispers, face flushed with shame and arousal. "Want you to…to breed me."
The words send fire through my veins. I increase my pace, fucking her in earnest now, one hand slipping between us to rub her clit. "Come for me, princess. Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my cock."
She shatters almost instantly, back arching off the desk, walls clenching around me as she cries out—"Daddy!"
The word hits me like lightning. I hadn't even told her to call me that, but it pours from her lips like a prayer as she comes, shame burning in her eyes even as pleasure overwhelms her. It's the most beautiful, filthy thing I've ever heard.
I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep and flooding her with my release, marking her as mine from the inside out. "That's it," I growl against her neck. "Take all of Daddy's cum, little girl. Every fucking drop."
Afterward, I hold her trembling body against mine, stroking her hair as reality slowly reasserts itself. What have I done? Crossed every professional line. Risked my entire career. For what?
I look down at her—cheeks flushed, lips swollen from my kisses, eyes trusting and vulnerable—and know I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
She's mine now. And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.