"Thank you for letting us stay here last night." I tuck a piece of my unruly hair behind my ear. My head is pounding and the inside of my mouth feels like I ate a sponge.

Why do people get drunk? The aftermath is horrid.

"It was the least I could do," Mr. Gabe says.

"Because you dumped me?" I blurt out the words without even thinking. I blame it on my hangover, which seems to have sapped me of the ability to think rationally about anything.

"Fuck, Purity," he growls. "You're a college student. Last night, you were doing just what you're supposed to be doing in college."

My hand goes to my forehead like that's going to help with the headache. "Yeah, that was tons of fun."

Mr. Gabe walks over to a cabinet and takes out a bottle, shaking out a couple of pills and handing them to me with a glass of water. "This will help with the headache. Are you queasy?"

I shake my head. "If I were nauseous, I'd be crying. I hate throwing up more than anything else in the world."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "More than you hate me?"

"I'm not sure. It's a toss-up whether you're worse than vomit."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you."

I bark a laugh. "You have a really weird way of showing it."

"I'm not good at this shit, Purity."

"Fucking students?"

His eyes narrow. "I don't remember fucking you."

"That's right, because you dumped me before you could in some weird attempt to protect me from, what, you?"

"Damn it, little girl." He puts his palms on the kitchen island countertop. "You're too goddamned young. You're inexperienced."

If I weren't so hung over, I might have let this go. I might not call him out on his bullshit. I might leave it alone and take his stupid explanation at face value. But I'm exhausted and cranky, and I have a massive headache – and I'm really annoyed by his whole "I'm doing this for you" routine. "I told you I didn't need you to act like my father," I snap, "yet you can't seem to stop treating me like a little girl."

"You're eighteen," he growls. "You have no life experience, yet you want to –"

"I want to fuck someone older and more experienced than the college boys here," I finish for him.

"Damn it, Purity."

"Maybe I know exactly what I'm doing," I insist. "Maybe crawling under your desk and sucking your cock is exactly what I wanted to do. Maybe I want to come on your face while I'm on the phone with my father because it's the dirtiest thing in the world I can imagine. Maybe I want you to fuck me because you're not a college boy my age."

"You need to stop talking about fucking me, little girl. Turn around and walk out that door. Go date someone your own age."

"Fine. You want me to go out with other guys? You want me to fuck them instead of you? You want me to lose my virginity to them instead of you? Should I come back when I have more 'life experience' and you'll fuck me then?"

He lets out a low rumble. "Stop talking about fucking other guys."

"Why?" I ask defiantly. "I thought you wanted me to get 'life experience' – after all that talk about my pussy belonging to you."

Before I can say anything else, his fingers encircle my wrists and he yanks me against his broad chest. His cock presses hard against my thigh and sends a tingle through me, even in the haze of my hangover. "What do you want, Purity? Do you want to keep running around hiding because we can't ever go anywhere in public together? Is that what you want?"

"I want to be your dirty little secret," I whisper. I don't know why the thought turns me on so much, but it does. "I want to be your dirty little girl."

"Goddamn it, Purity," he growls, his fingers tight on my wrists. "If I fuck you, there's no going back."

My heart beats furiously in my chest. "I don't want to go back."

He doesn't say another word.

He scoops me up in his arms the same way he did last night, carrying me upstairs down the hallway and into his bedroom where he deposits me on the bed and disappears into the bathroom. He returns a minute later. "There's a toothbrush on the sink. I'll be in there in a minute."

Inside the bathroom, water runs in an antique claw-foot bathtub, bubbles beginning to form. I pause for a moment to look around. The master bathroom, like the rest of his house, is classic – black and white tiles and antique fixtures. It feels like him.

A few minutes later, my mouth feels much less sponge-like, and I feel much less disgusting. The bubbles and water reach the top of the tub, so I turn off the faucet. Mr. Gabe knocks on the door. "Come in," I call, my stomach fluttering.

The door opens, and Mr. Gabe stands there looking at me. When he speaks, his voice is thick. "You should go home."

"You should stop telling me what to do."

He smirks as he crosses the space between us. "You should learn to be more respectful or I'm going to have to start washing that sassy little mouth out."

"Well, if you tell me you'll wash my mouth out with your cum, that's only going to encourage me to be sassier," I retort.

His eyes widen a little, which is exactly the reaction I was hoping for. "Going out and getting drunk has made you quite the little brat."

"I think being given orgasms and having them taken away made me cranky."

His eyes narrow momentarily, but then his expression softens as he pulls me against him. Heat flows through me in response to his touch. It's been a week without him, without feeling his touch at all, and my body aches for him. "I shouldn't have done things that way," he admits. "All of this is new to me."

"You've never fucked the eighteen-year-old daughter of your childhood friend before?" I tease.

"Keep being a smartass and you'll never get an apology from me again."

"I hope you never do anything you have to apologize for again," I tell him impudently.

He kisses the top of my head. "You and me both, little girl."

Putting my palms on his chest, I push him back. Pulling my shirt over my head, I toss it on the floor, and then unbutton my jeans.

"Did I tell you to undress, little girl?"

"Nope." I step out of my jeans and shimmy out of my underwear before dropping my bra on the tile. "I didn't ask your permission."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "Are you trying to get your ass punished?"

I shrug. "Maybe," I tell him. "You've been threatening to do it long enough."

"Is that right?"

"That's right," I respond. "You said you weren't going to fuck me until I was good and ready. Well, I'm good and ready now. So maybe you should start fucking me."

"Is that right?"

"That's right."

"That fucking mouth," he growls. "Get in the tub."

Hiding a smile, I do what he tells me to do. I sink down into the claw-foot bathtub and let the warm water and bubbles envelop me, sinking up to my chin.

I close my eyes. The warm water feels amazing – probably a million times more amazing than it would any other day since my body is achy and I didn't sleep well. When I open my eyes, Mr. Gabe is pulling a teak seat around to the head of the tub. "Aren't you coming in here with me?"

"Nope."

"What are you going to do, then?" I ask, my breath catching in my throat as he sits down.

"I'm going to clean you up, and then I'm taking you to bed."

Adrenaline rushes through me. "So are we going to… you know?"

He turns on the water, taking the handheld attachment and wetting my hair. Slowly, he begins to wash my hair for me, his fingers massaging my scalp until my eyes are practically rolling back in my head. Then he rubs my neck and my shoulders until I'm almost a pile of mush, my body turning into jelly.

By the time he puts his lips near my ear, I've forgotten that we were talking at all. "Does that mean we're going to do… what?" he asks. "I like hearing you say it."

"Does that mean we're going to fuck?" I whisper.

He turns the water on again, taking his time as he rinses my hair. "Say it again, dirty girl."

"Fuck," I whisper. "Are you going to fuck me?"

"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" He turns off the water and puts back the handheld attachment.

"I'm more than ready," I tell him. Between my legs, my pussy seems to throb its agreement.

He growls into my ear, his hands moving over my shoulders to my breasts, caressing me slowly like he has nowhere else in the world to be. My nipples harden in response to his touch and arousal surges through me.

I let out a little moan. I missed his hands on my body so much.

"Your first time… it shouldn't be with someone who could be your father," he says.

How can he still feel guilty about fucking me after I've practically thrown myself at him? "So you'd like someone my age to teach me everything, then?"

He pinches my nipples between his fingers, sending a shock of pain through me followed by arousal. I let out a low moan as he speaks gruffly in my ear. "No other man touches you, ever."

"You're the one who said –"

He slides his hand between my legs, his fingers immediately finding my clit, and he pinches it the same way he pinched my nipples a moment ago. I yelp loudly, but then he begins to stroke it, and I feel like I'm melting. "If you want to fuck me, you're all mine, little girl," he declares. "This clit is mine. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," I whisper, arching my hips to encourage him to touch more of me. I ache with desire for him. I want his fingers inside of me.

I want all of him inside of me.

He doesn't tease me for long before he thrusts his fingers deeply inside my pussy. They slide easily into me because I'm so wet for him, even in the water. "This tight, wet little pussy belongs to me," he says. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir." I gasp as he fucks me with his fingers, the tips going straight to the spot he seems to so easily find inside of me. His other hand gripping my breast, he pins me against the bathtub, his cheek close to mine. His fingers stretch me, sliding in and out until my breath becomes short.

"Sir," he murmurs. "Why do I like it so much when you call me that?"

"Because you're a dirty old man," I tease.

In response, he presses his fingertips hard against that spot inside of me, stroking me there until I can't breathe. "If that's your way of… of torturing me when I'm mouthy… then you're not discouraging me from being… being mouthy, you know."

His voice is low in my ear. "That's my way of apologizing for being an asshole."

I moan louder as he strokes me. "Keep apologizing."

"Mine," he growls. "Mine forever. Are we clear?"

"Yours," I whisper. The word becomes a moan, and I utter it over and over as he brings me higher. My hips seem to rock of their own volition as I fuck him back.

After that, there are no more words. Neither of us say anything. He just works me until I'm on the edge, my breath ragged and my body limp and pliable and willing to do whatever he'd ask of me.

Then he stops stroking me, leaving my pussy throbbing around his fingers. "That was my apology," he says. "Now, this is your punishment for going out and acting like a little brat."

He pulls his fingers from between my legs, leaving me empty and wanting. I whimper my frustration as he pulls the bathtub drain. "I wasn't acting like a brat," I protest.

He holds up a fluffy towel. "Get out of the tub, brat," he orders, the edges of his mouth curving up.

"You're supposed to be nice to me," I tell him. "I'm hung over."

"Oh, I'm going to be very nice to you," he promises, wrapping me in the towel and pulling me tightly against him.

"Is that so?"

"That's so," he says, picking me up in his arms still wrapped in the towel. He carries me to the bedroom and places me on the bed.

Then he undresses in front of me, his eyes trained on mine the entire time. Watching him undress should distract me from the aching emptiness between my legs, but it doesn't. It only reminds me of how badly I want him.

He's gorgeous. His chest is broad, his abs tight and defined from his regular runs.

I've never seen him completely naked. Everything we've done so far has been passionate and hurried, frenzied and secretive – exactly the opposite of how things are right now.

I inhale sharply as I take all of him in.

He's gorgeous.

And he's mine.

"You're absolutely sure, little girl?"

Are you kidding?

I choke back a laugh. "Um, Yes."

"Is something funny?"

"No," I breathe as he crosses the space between us and pulls off my towel, patting me dry. He's right here in front of me, stark naked, his cock big and hard. "It's not funny at all."

My hands go to him and I let my palms roam his abs. I move my hands over his hips and his ass cheeks.

He's mine. Every inch of him is mine.

Everything about him is wrong on the surface. I know that. He's older than me. He's my professor. Everything about this is a terrible idea.

But I want him more than anything.

Mr. Gabe picks me up by my waist and pushes me back onto the bed like I'm lighter than a feather. "I warned you before," he says, his voice thick. "I'm not a gentle man."

His words send goosebumps over my arms and down my thighs. His dark look makes my hair stand on end. My nipples are hard little pebbles, and my entire body is on edge, anticipating his next move. "I don't want gentle."

He lets out a low rumble. "I'm going to tear you up if I'm not careful, little girl."

My stomach does little flip-flops. His dark promise makes me wet. "I want to be fucked," I whisper.

Heaven help me, I want to be his.

I'm on my back as he crawls up the bed, his palms on the inside of my thighs to spread them. He dips down and puts his lips against the inside of one thigh and then the other. My back arches reflexively in response to the sensation of his lips on my skin. "Every inch of you is going to be mine," he murmurs. "These thighs…" His mouth goes between my legs, and I think I might die of stimulus overload. "This pussy…"

"Yours," I moan.

He takes my clit between his lips. "This clit… mine."

"Yours," I whisper. My hands go to my breasts, and I'm unashamedly touching myself in front of him, thumbs stroking my nipples as he licks me. Normally I'd be too timid to do something like this, but I don't care anymore.

I'm too turned on to care.

He pulls himself up over me with one hand, his other hand between my legs, thrusting his fingers inside me again. "This tight little cunt…" he says, his eyes on me. "Mine."

"Yours," I groan.

"Look at me, Purity," he orders. "Don't you dare come until my cock is inside you. Do you understand me?"

"I need to," I whine. Doesn't he know how close I am?

"You need to come on my cock."

"But I can't wait," I protest. I don't care that I'm practically begging for him. "It's been so long…"

He pulls his fingers away and I almost cry. He grabs one of my hands and pulls it above my head before reaching for the other one and doing the same thing. My hands pinned above my head, he pushes his palm down on mine and hovers over me, his cock pressing against my mound.

He's so close to me that if I arched my hips up just a little bit and angled my pussy, I think he'd slip right inside. I'm too turned on to be nervous any longer.

"It's been a week. Have I gotten you so addicted to coming that a single week without my fingers or my mouth reduces you to begging me for it?"

"Yes," I whimper.

I should be ashamed of my greediness, but I'm not. Gluttony is a sin – I was taught that by my father. Yet I don't think I could ever get enough of this man.

"Tell me how much you want my cock inside this tight little pussy," he demands, reaching between my legs with his free hand and guiding his cock to my entrance. His other hand presses against my palms and my fingers tighten against his hand as his cock pushes against me.

"Please," I whisper.

"Tell me, Purity," he demands, pushing the tip of his cock inside of me.

"Please fuck me, Mr. Gabe," I beg. "Fuck me."

His lips come down hard on my mouth, his tongue finding mine as he plunges inside of me. A white-hot shock of pain blinds me, and I half-cry, half-moan into his mouth. He stops there, deeply inside of me, but his lips stays on mine as he kisses away the pain.

He kisses me and he kisses me until I'm breathless.

When he finally tears his mouth away, his eyes search mine. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice strangled.

I can hardly speak. My pussy throbs and aches and hurts, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. I'm filled up with him, adjusting to accommodate him, and I think he's almost going to split me in two. "I'm okay," I gasp.

"I'm trying to be gentle, Purity," he groans. "I'm really trying. You're so fucking tight."

"You promised you wouldn't be gentle." I arch my hips against him for emphasis, and a pang of pain rushes through me, but it's not as bad as it was a moment ago, and it's quickly followed by arousal as my clit rubs against him.

"Fuck, I don't want to tear you up," he says gruffly. "You're just so fucking tight." Pinning my palms over my head with both of his hands, he begins to rock against me, and I meet him with every tiny thrust.

He's so huge that it feels like he's going to burst right through me, but before too long there's no pain, only pleasure as I begin to stretch to fit him. Soon I'm moaning and arching my back up so that I can kiss him as he moves inside me. His mouth is on mine, and I'm melting into him as my body seems to mold to fit his.

His hands on mine for leverage, he slowly begins to fuck me deeper. I move with him in a rhythm that seems like it's the most familiar thing in the world. It feels like I was made to fit underneath him.

It feels like I was made to be his.

He murmurs the entire time, telling me how wet my pussy is, how tight I am, how I squeeze his cock like I was made for him. Heat slowly fills every inch of my body until I'm lost in him. I move with him, my eyes on his, and despite how badly I want to explode, I never want this to end.

I hear myself saying wicked things, things I'd never expect to come out of my mouth. "Fuck me harder," I beg. "Fuck your dirty little girl."

"That filthy little mouth of yours," he warns. "I'm going to wash it out with my cum."

I'm so close. I'm so close, so close, so close.

"Come inside me," I beg, every word punctuated by his thrusts. "Fill my tight little virgin cunt with your –"

"Dirty," he growls.

Thrust.

"Little," he says.

Thrust.

"Girl."

I'm coming. I can't help it.

The intensity of the sensation takes my breath away. I cry out as I explode around him, and he thrusts inside of me again and again as he groans loudly and calls my name. His warmth floods me, and I wrap my legs around him to pull him tighter inside of me, screaming my orgasm until I have nothing left to scream.

When he collapses against me, it seems like forever before either of us are able to catch our breaths.

Finally, he presses his lips softly to mine. "Are you okay?" he whispers.

Laughter racks my body.

Am I okay?

I feel equal parts like I'm as light as a feather about to float away, and completely depleted, like my body is about to sink into the bed. I'm giddy and lightheaded and totally overwhelmed.

"I'm okay."

His finger goes to my cheek. "You're crying," he tells me.

I didn't realize I was.