Vicky must've locked herself out. I glance over at the twin bed across the room from mine. To my relief, she's in bed sound asleep with her cellphone sitting next to her pillow. I grin at the realization that she was probably talking to Derrick again. A second knock comes and I quickly shuffle out of bed. The last time someone knocked on our door at 2 AM, it was a very drunk student who thought our dorm room was her's. It wasn't until several days later, that the resident advisor informed us she actually lived in a completely different building.

I glance through the peephole and spot a familiar man standing in the dimly lit hallway. Professor Grant? My heart races as I watch him run a hand through his disheveled hair. He waits several seconds before raising his hand to knock again. What does he want now? The sight of him is an unexpected surprise that sends butterflies in my stomach. I glance down at the unicorn pajama suit that I'm wearing and panic. I look like a ten-year-old.

Vicky purchased the damn thing for me last Christmas. It was meant to be a practical joke for a white elephant gift, but I love it and I haven't stopped wearing it since. It's comfy, squishy and the least flattering thing I own. The knocking on the door grows louder and more insistent this time.

Maybe I can crack the door I can just send him away.

"Who is it?" I ask, opening the door just enough for him to spot me.

"It's me." His voice, although muffled, sounds irritated. Almost angry."

"It's late," I say stating the obvious. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do right now. First, Professor Grant ruins my blind date, then he kisses me and abruptly leaves after doing so. What am I supposed to think? Is he toying with me? Showing up at our dorm is a whole new level with him. I’m starting to get whiplash from his moods.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk."

"Just talk," I ask, secretly hoping he's here for more than just talking.

"Is that all you want?" He leans against the dorm frame close enough that we lock eyes for a moment that feels much too long. "I think we both know you want more."

I remove the sliding lock and open the door to him. It's an action I immediately regret knowing I've opened myself up to getting hurt. Knowing that if Professor Grant steps into my dorm that we've both crossed a line we can't take back.

"Who takes care of your daughter when you're out?" I ask, trying to diffuse the charged energy between us. "I didn't see her tonight."

"She's at her mother's."

Professor Grant steps inside the room and carefully shuts the door behind him. The jacket in his hand is tossed to the couch and he begins to unbutton his shirt. I audibly gulp as he strides forward and grabs me by the waist.

"Professor Grant, I -"

"You think you're so fucking special, don't you Ms. Wilde?" His breath is on my ear and his lips are hovering dangerously close. My chin is forced upward as he grabs it. The sheer anger in his eyes should frighten me, but it doesn't. This man has the power to break me, but something inside tells me he won't. Something tells me Professor Grant isn't the complete asshole he appears to be. Then again I've been wrong about a lot of things lately.

"Maybe I am special," I counter, realizing this is a game he wants to play. Push and pull. "Doesn't every woman like to think so?"

"You're not."

His words come out in an hushed growl. In a heartbeat, Professor Grant is leaning down to nip at my neck. His thick tongue slides across my skin as he takes a moment to taste me.

"Maybe you're intimated by an intelligent woman." My voice is breathless with want. I drag my bottom lip between my teeth to suppress the moan building inside me. There's no way I'm letting him know he has an affect on me. Fuck that.

"I've met plenty of women like you."

He glances down my body and then back at my face. As if assessing me and finding me lacking. My cheeks burn in anger. "You've never met anyone like me, asshole."

"I bet you think your pussy's special too."

He's taunting me. This is just another test he's hoping I fail. I try to pull away but his hands keep my in place.

"That you'll never find out," I blurt.

"But you want me to, don't you Ms. Wilde? You want my tongue licking your pussy like dessert."

For a brief moment, I swear I can almost see a smile on his face. But this asshole almost never smiles. It must be my imagination.

"I don't fuck old men."

"No, you just let them fuck you," he says, unzipping the front of my pajama. In a matter of seconds, I'm naked with only my underwear and socks to cover me. He palms my breasts, guiding his hand over my nipples before pinching them. His touch isn't gentle and a part of me doesn't want it to be. A large part of me. My breath hitches as Professor Grant pushes me against the living room couch and tears off my underwear before throwing them to the floor. God, I hope Vicky doesn't hear us. I don't think I would ever live down the embarrassment if she caught us.

My thoughts immediately return to the arrogant man in front of me as he groans and presses his erection into my thigh. I can feel every inch of him throbbing against me. And there's a lot of inches. Though I'll never admit that to him.

"I'm sure you're used to little boys trying to fuck you, but I'm no little boy Ms. Wilde."

I laugh at his arrogance. Whether I want to admit it or not, I know there's nothing little about him. Not matter how much I want Professor Grant to be wrong, he's not. I've never been with anyone like him. I step back from his grasp and place my palm against his erection.

"Does that mean you're you ready to show me how it's done?" I say, taunting him. "Are you ready to teach me a new lesson, professor?"

The only lesson I'll be learning tonight is how to get men like Professor Grant out of my system. He groans again as I lean into him, rubbing my bare tits against him.

"I guess not," I say with a smirk. I turn to grab my pajama off the floor but instead find myself being pressed against the couch, stomach first.

"Lesson one. Don't talk."

His hand positions my hips against him as unbuckles his belt. Before I have a chance to reply, he's on me. In two swift movements, he parts my bare legs and slides his erect cock inside of me. The sensation is so intense I practically scream as he angles himself deeper inside me. Parker doesn't wait for my body to grow accustom to him. He presses on only thrusting harder at the sound of my gasps. His hand wraps around my throat, forcing me up to kiss him. I turn my face to the side to meet his lips.

Like us, our heated kiss is messy. Imperfect and yet undeniably incredible.

"I guess I'm not too old to fuck you senseless," he groans, picking up speed as I cry for him to go faster. I bite his hand at the sound of his chuckle, but it only seems to make him do it harder. A pleasurable pain runs across my skin as his fingers tangle in my hair and pull. I've always loved the thought of getting my hair pulled, but this is ten times hotter than anything my mind could conjure.

"You're mine," he says, tugging my hair again. "Say it."

"No."

"Say it," he says again, reaching down and rubbing my clit with his thumb. He teases me until I'm practically screaming. Sweat slides down my body as it tries and fails to recover from the overwhelming stimulation.

"I won't stop until you say you're mine," he growls. "We'll stay up all night. I'll fuck you until your raw." My resistance grows weaker by the minute. His words both thrill and exhaust me.

"I'm yours," I gasp.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, asshole."

He chuckles as he releases me and then flips me on my back across the couch. He leans on top of me, propping my legs open and placing a kiss on my hip bone. I shiver as his mouth hovers dangerously close to my pussy. He trails his lips down the inside of my thigh and then moves over me. He guides my legs around him as he sets my hips up at an angle.

"It's time for another lesson."