Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Yes, yes, I am and you’re my little triple X starlet.

“Coming.” I push to my feet, lightheaded with white dots in my vision from the power of the orgasm, my dick tugging at my boxers where they are stuck with the sticky cum.

“I felt like I totally flubbed that Rond de Jambe en L’air in that last Arabesque.”

On a burning exhale, I move to the aisle and walk into the light. She’s my greatest distraction. I meant only to stay for a minute before heading to my workshop where business awaits. As it always does.

“There wasn’t anything out of place.” I grunt clearing my throat, stuffing my hands in my pockets and stalling ten steps from the edge of the stage as she stretches her legs in a wide ‘V’ in front of her, leaning forward onto her elbows, her chin in her hands.

God, what I could do with that flexible little body.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

I want to praise the fuck out of her, but my control hangs by a silk thread. The twisting in my belly competes with the iron bars I keep around my heart, knowing she’s the one who holds the key.

“Are you okay, Papa?” she says, her brow worried as she sits up and runs her hands down her legs, massaging her calves while alternating between pointing and flexing her toes. Her melodic voice flutters around in the logged walls of the auditorium like a thousand butterflies.

I built this place as a shrine to her. The construction took a year under my meticulous scrutiny.

Getting things done here, north of nowhere in the Canadian wilderness, requires not only money but influence. The world moves slower here.

The three months out of the year when it’s not blue balls cold out, I had teams working round the clock. By winter, the enormous addition to the mansion was enclosed and the remainder of the work could be completed come blizzard or Armageddon.

I wanted her on stage. Under the lights. Performing.

For me.

Even as I realize each addition to the compound here is just another golden bar on her gilded cage, I can’t stop.

“Yes,” I answer, taking a step back. “Things on my mind.”

“Investment problems?” She rolls her head around on her elegant neck, looking upward and around the room. “I knew you shouldn’t have spent so much building this. It’s over the top, Lucy and I don’t need such extravagances.”

Lucy. Her stepsister. My granddaughter by blood. I care for her deeply, but nothing like how I feel for Carina.

They are as different as summer sunshine and winter storms. Both necessary and beautiful in their own way, but Lucy is more like me than even I choose to admit. I’ve told Carina I am an investor. Stocks, currency, commodities and the like. I keep it vague and she doesn’t delve.

If she knew the truth, she would leave and my life would be over.

When Carina’s hands move from her calves to her thighs, my gaze lingers between them where I know her tight, wet pussy is waiting for my claiming.

I shake my head, choking on my own saliva as my mouth waters like a mountain river in spring, then run a hand over the top of my head. Keeping space between us is the only way.

Deep down, the last spark of a civilized man in me hopes I will grow weary of her. That this is some chemical imbalance that will right itself in the frozen winter nights and sweep away the endless dreams of my cock pushing into the slick wetness of her virginity. And that all those depraved fantasies will be replaced by bloodshed and the ruthless pursuit of leaving this ice-ridden hideaway, so I can return to my rightful place as the kingpin of the empire I was forced to leave back in Chicago.

“You deserve everything,” I mutter as I force myself to turn away, each step like walking through wet cement as the soft brushing of movement comes from behind, then there’s the delicatetap tap tapof her feet on the carpeted aisleway.

Keep walking.

Don’t turn around.

Filthy thoughts ricochet around in my brain as my heart battles against my sternum.

I move faster, but her arms loop around latching over my stomach, her soft body pressed against my back, spinning me into the ether, my barely softened cock returning to its full steel length.

“I love you, Papa,” she whispers, the words writhing up my spine like vipers and biting with a venom that singes the very darkness of my soul, turning it toward the light.

Push her away.

This will ruin us both. Ruin the little control I have on my empire. Put us all in danger.

I wrestle myself from her grasp. Memories of her hugging my legs this way when she was young burst through me in flaming shame. The devil on my shoulder rants telling me to shove her down onto the red carpet under our feet and drive through her innocence. To paint my cock with her virgin blood.

The seats at the end of each aisle are decorated with ridiculous giant red bows that taunt me, whispering that the greatest gift of all would be her virtue dripping red after I tore it from her painting the walls of her womb with my seed.

Leaving my humanity behind has been part of my job. Part of my strength. Being cold-hearted and emotionless is the only route through the minefield of lust for my granddaughter, but it’s tearing me apart.

With brute force, I untangle her arms from my waist, the heat of her touch burns as I catch the growl in my throat, my balance unsteady. Nothing has prepared me for this. For her.

“It’s nearly lunchtime. You should get dressed,” I manage, walking toward the open door at the top of the auditorium.

Since she and her sister arrived here, we have dined together for every meal barring illness. I have not missed one time. It is the foundation on which I’ve built my pseudo fatherhood for my granddaughters. A place and time every day that I can give them the few good and kind parts of me. Listen to them laugh and tell their stories.

Fight and curse and ask me their silly questions.

These meals together assure me that the two delicate birds I keep here in my icy cage are happy. Thriving. Though I know, it’s a lie.

How could they be happy? They are young women, they should be out in the world, exploring, learning.

Experiencing.

For Carina, it is something I could never allow. For Lucy, it would be possible, but if anyone hurt either of them, the inferno I would light would melt the ice caps and turn this northern land of ice into scorched earth.

Watching Carina at our meals these last months has become torture. With every drink she takes, as her lips touch the crystal glass, a sea of jealousy drowns me.

“I have to go. I will see you at lunch.” These are all the words I will allow. Any more and I will be spewing the filth that ravages my brain day and night, telling her how a monster like me would take a beauty like her. How I want to ruin her with my depravity.

“Okay.” Her single word is laced with sadness, and I cannot bear to turn and give her comfort. If I touch her, she will hate me forever for the things I want from her.

I will forgo my desires to retain her love.

This is what I tell myself at least.

The devil and I both know it’s a lie.

Carina

I can’t wash away the tangle of tension lodged below my belly button. No amount of rubbing and squeezing my legs together will unknot the threads of lusty burden that torture me day and night.

All I want for Christmas is my grandfather.

God, take away this shameful longing before I do something we will all regret and destroy what’s left of my family.

The wash of the sweet scent of my shampoo mixes with the scalding water as I attempt to cleanse myself of my dirty thoughts. I dig my fingertips into my scalp, rasping my nails around and around, jaw locked, praying silently for relief.

How could it be that the man I imagine as I read all the dirty books I order online is him?

Every. Time.

I don’t care if the book describes the hero as a twenty-year-old blonde Orc with a lisp and four legs. It’s. Always. Him.

Gennero Maricio Sabato.

My stand-in father and by all rights my grandfather. The only man I’ve ever loved.

Although, over the years, that love has turned from a warm mulled cider into a flaming shot of moonshine.

When I was little, he was this bigger-than-life man who lingered on the edges of our lives. His power radiated through every room he occupied, forcing me to cower and sneak looks at him from behind the teddy bear I still have as I held it in front of my face.