Chapter 1.
He wasn’t supposed to fuck his student anymore. Especially not the one whose mom he was marrying next week. But Daisy was here anyway.
……………………………………………..
“You’re not supposed to be here, Daisy. Get out. Now.”
Daisy shoved Professor Rodrigo Thorne’s office door open without knocking, her heart slamming because one wrong sound could torch his career—and drag her down with it.
His voice was low, like he was fighting not to growl. Daisy loved it when he tried to sound in control.
She kicked the door shut with her sneaker heel, twisted the lock, and strolled in like she owned the whole damn building.
“Relax, Professor,” Daisy said, letting that sweet-crude smile curl her lips. The sight of him—tall, broad, salt-and-pepper hair deliciously wrecked, sleeves rolled over those thick, veined forearms—made her pussy clench so hard she nearly moaned right there in the doorway.
“You look like you’re about to have a heart attack. Is it the age thing again? ‘I’m old enough to be your father’ shit? Cute. You weren’t saying that last week when you were moaning my name in the lecture hall storage closet.”
He clenched that perfect jaw so hard she saw the muscle jump.
“This is assessment time. There are rules. We have rules. I told you… we’re done. I’m getting married soon. I need to take my life seriously. Start a family. This—” he gestured between them, “—this can’t keep happening.”
He stepped back, opening space between them.
For a second, Daisy considered it. The door. Pretending none of this had ever happened.
Then she laughed because they both knew he was full of shit. She circled the desk, hips swaying just enough to make his gaze drop to her skirt before he forced it back up.
Then Daisy dropped into his big leather chair, spun it once for fun, and kicked her feet up on the edge of his desk, right next to those neat stacks of graded papers.
“You need me, Rodrigo,” she said, dropping the Professor because it felt too polite for what she was about to do to him. “Your boring little professor cock was already half-hard just hearing my voice. Admit it. Your old-man brain was saying no, but your dick was screaming yes, Daisy, please.”
He exhaled hard through his nose. God, he was gorgeous when he fought it.
“Daisy. Leave. Before someone knocked.”
Daisy tilted her head, letting her eyes rake over him, the obvious bulge straining his slacks.
“I’m your student, remember? I was here for extra credit.”
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
“Oh, and I also needed you to talk to Professor Nate in Liberal Arts. I was failing his bullshit elective and needed that credit. You owed me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Last week said different.”
Daisy stood slowly, closing the gap until she was right in front of him.
“You remembered last week, right? You bent me over that desk in the back hall, fucked me so hard the shelves rattled, and then begged me to finger your ass while you came all over my hand. Ring any bells, Daddy?”
His breath caught. Daisy loved that sound.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? You loved it.”
She slid her hand up his thigh and felt him twitch under the fabric.
“Look at you. Already leaking for your bad-girl student.”
“Stop.” His voice cracked. “This is insane. If anyone found out—”
Daisy pressed a finger to those full lips.
“Shhh. Don’t mention last week again.”
He grabbed her wrist, fingers tight.
“Students were talking, Daisy. They saw us in the hall. Whispers everywhere. If this got out, I’d lose my job, my fiancée—everything. That storage closet thing was reckless. It stopped now.”
“That little incident in the hall?” Daisy cut him off, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You mean the one where you had me pinned against the shelves, cock buried so deep I could barely breathe, and then you begged—begged—to keep fingering your tight professor ass until you came untouched? Yeah. That one was bad. Real bad. And you loved every filthy second of it.”
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Daisy could see the war on his face—guilt, fear, and that raw, desperate hunger he couldn’t hide.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he muttered, but his grip on her hip tightened instead of pushing her away.
Daisy laughed softly and slid her free hand up his chest, fingers tracing the hard line of his pecs through the shirt.
“I wasn’t ruining you, Rodrigo. I was giving you what you’d been starving for your whole boring, buttoned-up life. The fiancée. The wedding. That was the ruin. This—”
She ground her palm against the thick bulge in his slacks, feeling him throb, “—this was alive.”
He groaned, his head tipping back for a second like he was praying for strength. It was the hottest thing Daisy had ever seen—this big, gorgeous man crumbling because of her.
“Now shut up and let me play,” she whispered, finally shoving him the rest of the way so his ass hit the desk. “Or did I need to remind you how loud you screamed when I made you mine?”
He didn’t answer. He just stared at her, breathing hard, cock straining, eyes burning with the kind of want that said he’d already lost.
Before he could push back, Daisy shoved him until his perfect ass hit the desk edge. Papers slid. A pen rolled off and clattered to the floor.
She picked it up, twirled it between her fingers, then dragged the smooth cap along the inside of his thigh, right over the seam of his slacks.
Footsteps passed outside the door.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Daisy—”
“Quiet.”
She popped his button and dragged the zipper down.
His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already glistening at the tip like he’d been thinking about her all day. Daisy wrapped her hand around him once, gave one lazy stroke, then let go.
“You didn’t get to come easy today.”
She spun him around so his chest pressed to the desk, cheek against cool wood and warm essays. Daisy kicked his feet wider and yanked his pants and boxers to his knees.
The pen came back—cool metal tracing circles over his heavy balls, then lower, pressing just behind them.
“Fuck,” he whispered, hips jerking forward against the desk.
“That was the idea.”
Daisy leaned over his back, breath hot on his ear.
“You thought about this all day, didn’t you?”
She pressed the pen harder—not inside, just teasing. He groaned, low and broken, hips rocking without permission.
His fingers curled into the wood.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please… touch me.”
Daisy laughed softly.
“Better.”
She reached into her bag—always prepared—and pulled out the small, curved silicone plug, already slick with lube. Daisy pressed the tip to his hole and circled slow.
“Relax, Daddy. You knew you wanted it.”
He made a choked sound as she pushed. The plug slid in inch by inch, stretching him open until the base nested flush against his skin. Daisy gave it a little twist.
He shuddered violently, a raw, choked groan ripping out of him and echoing softly off the office walls.
The plug seated with a wet, obscene pop. Daisy felt his rim clench hard around the base, muscles fluttering.
His cock jerked untouched, pre-cum splattering onto the hardwood floor.
Feeling him pulse helplessly under her palm, completely at her mercy, made Daisy so wet she had to squeeze her thighs together to keep from moaning.
She stepped back and admired her work.
“There. Now you were plugged for the rest of the day.”
Daisy walked around to face him again, grabbed that strong chin, and forced his dark eyes to meet hers.
“Extra credit approved,” she said. “And tell Professor Nate I expected an A.”
She kissed him once—hard and claiming—then wiped her lip gloss off his mouth with her thumb.
“See you in class, Professor.”
Daisy unlocked the door, slipped out, and left him there—pants around his thighs, plug stretching him wide, cock throbbing untouched.
She smiled to herself as she walked down the hall.
Halfway down the empty corridor, her phone vibrated. Daisy pulled it out.
It was a photo message from Mum.
Mum: Finally found that pic from the mixer last night! You need to meet your future stepdad next week!
The photo loaded: Rodrigo in a dark suit, wine glass tilted, flashing that same polite, controlled smile he’d worn minutes ago—right before Daisy had left him bent over his desk, ass plugged deep, cock leaking untouched onto the floor.
Her thumb froze.
The man she’d just claimed—still stretched around the toy she’d twisted in, probably clenching every time he shifted in his chair—was standing next to her mother like he belonged in family photos.
Why now? Why him? Why the exact second she walked away?
A sick, hot throb pulsed between her legs even as her stomach lurched.
Not this. Not her fucking stepdad.
