His Prize Pupil

“You gave those boys your phone number?” Gavin says softly, dangerously.

“No,” I whisper. “I only gave it to one girl. She must have passed it around.”

“Are you telling me the truth, Alana?”

My knees begin to tremble, but it’s not with fear, it’s with anticipation. My Daddy is jealous. He covets me still, even if we can’t be together, and that’s something I can’t help but cling to. “Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Gavin hums low in his throat. “Will you go to this party?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I lick my lips. “The girls are nice. I like them.”

“I’m not worried about the girls.” He snaps the sentence at me and I can feel his composure evaporating. When he sat down, I don’t think he intended anything but a friendly conversation, but now everything seems to have changed. He’s been thrown a curveball. “Those boys want to fuck my princess.”

My princess.

I feel those two words in my clit, beating like a heartbeat, and I bite off a moan.

He’s not finished, either. It’s a mistake to turn my head and meet his eyes, because they’re clouded with lust and jealousy. And intent. There’s something exciting about being in the open like this, while he looks at me like I’m his prey. My body is thrilled to be the center of his attention and it responds by priming, preparing for sensual punishment.

“If one of them so much as lays a goddamn finger on you, Alana, they won’t live to see graduation. Are we clear on that?”

His possessiveness is like a drug roaring down my bloodstream. Later, I’ll worry about what it means that he makes this order. What it means that I obey. Later I’ll wonder if he wants to keep me as his secret lover and never tell a soul. I’ll wonder why that makes me want to cry enough tears to fill an ocean. Later. Right now, I can only obey my instincts. “Yes. We are clear.”

My agreement does nothing to soften him, though there is a flex of muscle in his cheek. “Tell me, Alana. If frequent flyer miles and a briefcase are what make someone an adult…what makes someone a little girl?”

A cloud passes in front of the sun, but my shiver has nothing to do with the sudden cold. Desire spreads on the seam of my panties and I scoot my thighs together to hide it, but his eyes follow the movement sharply. “Gavin,” I whisper, trembling. “We shouldn’t…everyone c-can see us.”

“Answer me, Alana.” His voice is low, hypnotic. It resonates in my tummy and lower. Everywhere. “What makes you a little girl?”

It’s getting hard to breathe. I look around, expecting everyone in the quad to be watching me turn into a ball of fire on this bench, but life rolls on as usual. “I don’t know.”

“Is it me that makes you one?” He lays an arm along the back of the bench, wrapping a curl at the nape of my neck around his finger. “Is it the way I held you down and crammed myself into your tight girlish cunt…and the excitement of pleasing Daddy eclipsed the discomfort so thoroughly you barely even felt the pain?”

I feel as if I’ve liquefied into hot metal and become one with the hard slats. If I move I’m going to shatter, I know it. I know it. My clit is throbbing and aching between my legs, as if it knows the one who learned its secrets is nearby and it wants more.

“Is it your eagerness to please? Don’t think I didn’t notice you sat in the front row of my class. So diligent taking notes, weren’t you? Such a good teacher’s pet.” He shifts on the bench and lets me see the thick ridge of his erection, hidden just inside his suit jacket. “And all the while your thighs and tits had me so hard, I nearly jerked myself off behind the podium.”

With a sucked in breath, I cross my legs, but the ache he’s creating between them is ruthless. Nothing is going to help.

“Squeeze your thighs together, Alana,” Gavin bites out, subtly massaging his arousal with the heel of his hand. “You’ve made me jealous. Now you’re going to come right here on this fucking bench. Right here in front of everyone.”

My grip flies to the edge of the seat, my desire-dampened thighs sawing together. I drop my head forward so none of the milling students can see my eyes close, the sweat forming on my top lip, or the blood I draw with my teeth on the bottom one. “Daddy,” I whisper.

He leans in, speaking a few inches from my ear. “I know what makes you a little girl. That wet, horny pussy of yours. It knows it only belongs to one man. It waits so innocently for him to pound it like sweet fuckmeat, doesn’t it?”