Chapter Three

I was still trembling when I came. My thighs quivered, clenching helplessly around Professor Damon's cock as he emptied inside me, thick and hot. He groaned low in his chest, driving into me one last time, deep, possessive, marking me in every filthy, irreversible way.

We stayed there for a moment-my back arched against the desk, his body covering mine, our sweat-slicked skin glued together, breathing ragged. The room was thick with the scent of sex, heat curling in the air even with the hum of the AC.

But then-

Knock.

I jolted. My eyes flew open.

Knock. Knock.

And then a voice.

"Professor Wolfe? Are you in there?"

My heart plummeted into my stomach.

That voice. That calm, familiar, warm voice.

My father.

Not just any man. Principal Clarke. Head of the school. Head of my home. And a highly respected pastor of our city's most powerful Catholic church.

If he walked in and saw what had just happened-his daughter dripping with sex, the air heavy with sin, my professor still semi-hard from destroying me on that desk- we'd both be done.

"Fuck," I breathed, jumping up, panic in every inch of my body. "Oh my God-he's-he's-"

"Your dad," Damon said smoothly, already tucking himself back into his slacks. His voice was low and maddeningly calm like he hadn't just spent the last hour wrecking me across every surface of the room.

He grabbed my bra and tossed it to me. "Put your clothes on. Now."

I rushed to catch my lace panties and wrinkled bra from his hold, slipping them on with shaking fingers. My blouse stuck slightly to my damp skin, and my skirt was rumpled and clinging to my thighs from the slickness still coating me. I buttoned in a frenzy, fingers fumbling.

Meanwhile, Damon moved like clockwork. He pulled a thick gray cloth from a cabinet and laid it over his desk, hiding the papers, the stains, and most importantly-the mess. The mixture of both our cum still gleamed faintly on the polished wood, but it disappeared under the fabric like it had never been there.

He wiped the couch with a piece of cloth, the edge of the desk, the floor where my knees had been.

"Spray," he said, tossing me a bottle of subtle, musky perfume.

I sprayed. Everywhere. Myself, the desk, the chair. My fingers trembled so hard I nearly dropped it.

He adjusted his grey suit, buttoned the top, and ran a hand through his hair. Not a single bead of sweat remained on him. He looked the same as he always did-sharp, composed, dangerous.

I still flushed and slick between my thighs, looking like a girl who had just been fucked out of her mind. And I had.

The knock came again, firmer.

"I'm opening the door, just a second," Damon called out, his voice smooth as glass.

I spun to look at him, wide-eyed. "Do I look okay?"

He gave me a once-over, eyes gleaming. "You look like a perfect little student."

I swallowed hard. My heart hammered in my throat.

The door creaked open-

And there he was.

My father.

A tall man in his late sixties, with white hair combed neatly back, warm brown eyes, and a kind, fatherly smile. He wore his usual black suit with the priest's white collar peeking out. He smelled like incense and aftershave.

He blinked. Surprised, "Ava? You're here?"

I nearly choked on my own breath. My skin was still tingling from the aftershocks of our sex. My inner thighs were damp. My pulse thundered in my ears.

"Fa-Father," I stammered. "Yes. I-yes, I was..."

"She came by to go over her essay," Damon cut in smoothly, stepping aside just enough to gesture to the desk. His tone was casual and warm. "She got a C, and she was disappointed. We spent some time reviewing it."

My father smiled, nodding in approval. "That's good. I've told her she needs to work harder. The school board is watching the grades this quarter."

"She's gotten a hang of it now," Damon said, voice dipping just a little. His eyes flicked to me, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth-one that my father completely missed. "She's a fast learner when she wants to be."

I flushed. Not from shame-from memory. From the ghost of his hands, his cock, the things he'd whispered into my ear just minutes ago.

My father nodded again. "Good. Very good. I just stopped by to pick up the final schedules. I won't be long."

"No problem at all, sir," Damon said, ushering him in like a perfect gentleman.

I didn't say a word. I couldn't. My legs were still shaking. But my father didn't notice a thing. He gave me a proud smile, "I'll see you at home, sweetheart."

Then he walked past me entering further into the office, completely unaware.

And Damon?

Damon leaned down, whispering just loud enough for me to hear, his voice rich with wicked heat, "You're gonna sit across from him at dinner tonight-full of my cum. Think about that. Do you think he'd still call you his perfect little girl if he knew what you let me do to you?"

I swallowed. Hard.

Damon pulled back slowly, his right palm smoothing over his wrinkled suit, "Now," he said, turning toward his desk, "I want that revised essay on my desk by Friday."

I nearly collapsed.

I quickly exit the door, closing it behind me in a fast motion. I was scared that if I stayed there a bit longer, my father would suspect something.

I pressed my thighs together as I limp-rushed down the hallway, heart pounding, face burning. I barely registered the bodies I bumped into-students turning to curse or call out-but I couldn't stop. "Sorry," I muttered breathlessly. "Sorry-move-sorry."

My heels clicked against the tile as I made a sharp turn and shoved open the girls' bathroom door on the third floor. It slammed behind me, echoing loudly off the walls. I locked the stall, hands trembling, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

I tugged my panties down in one shaky motion, feeling the mess slip from me, warm and obscene.

"Fuck..." I whispered, staring down.

He definitely came a lot.

I grabbed some tissue, trying to clean myself as best as I could, the evidence of what we'd done refusing to disappear quickly enough. My thighs were still sticky, my core sore in a way that felt both humiliating and addictive. And no matter how hard I wiped, I could still feel him inside me.

I leaned back against the stall door, letting my head fall against the cool metal, eyes fluttering shut.

What the hell am I doing?

I pulled out my phone, fingers still trembling, and typed in a reminder to grab a morning-after pill before going home.

Because the only thing worse than getting caught... would be having to explain that.