Page 4 of Teach Me Daddy

His dirty words make me hotter as he starts moving in and out. I’ve forgotten all about the subtle welts on my skin as pleasure floods my senses. I can’t stop touching him, wanting to map every inch of his sexy body. Then, his mouth takes mine again, and I love the hint of sweet bourbon that I taste on his tongue.

He thrusts into me with a fierce determination. It’s frenzied and rough, and I can’t get enough of it. I want him to ravage me, to use me how ever he wants, to make it hurt so good until we both fall apart.

“I need you to come for me, baby,” he growls, his hand moving between us and stroking my clit. “I want to feel you squeeze my cock before I fill this pussy with my cum.”

My orgasm crashes over me at his words, and I scream with my release. Every muscle tenses until my body shatters with my heart pounding against my rib cage. Sweet bliss overwhelms me, yet I can feel it when he drives himself deep inside me, holding still as his cock jerks with each spurt of his cum.

This is better than I could have ever dreamed, and a satisfied smile stretches across my face. He pulls out, moving to a trash can that I didn’t notice next to the bed. As he tosses the condom, I push up from the mattress. But he’s quickly at my side, pressing a hand against my shoulder to keep me in place.

“Not yet, little one. You need time to recover.”

My body feels like Jell-O and I know he’s right. So, I listen, curling onto my side and pulling the silky sheet over my naked body. He crosses to the door, not bothering to cover his own nakedness, and I openly admire his Greek god-like frame until he pulls a cart into the room with a covered dish on top and a couple of bottles of water.

I look at him questioningly.

“You need food and water and rest,” he explains before handing me one of the small bottles. “Drink up.”

He sets the dome-covered plate on the bed and takes a seat beside me. I sit upright and sip the cool water while he runs his heavy palm along my leg. I know this is aftercare but it feels like more than that too, more than what he’d do for someone else. Or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking on my part. Either way, I’m going to relish this moment while it lasts.

“You need to replenish your energy,” he claims, holding a plump grape to my lips. I part them, allowing him to pop the sweet fruit inside, and it almost seems more intimate than what we just did in this bed. “Your adrenaline spiked during our session, and you might crash now that it’s over. I wanna make sure the effects of that crash are as minimal as possible.”

He holds out a small triangle of cheese, and I reach out to take it from his hand. But he shakes his head and holds it to my lips, where I’m eager to accept it.

“I feel really good,” I admit, and his mouth splits into a knowing grin.

“It’s all the endorphins. Flogging followed by a good fucking puts most people on cloud nine. It’s not for everyone, but I find many enjoy it.”

I suddenly wish that he wasn’t wearing a mask. I want to see his face and feel more connected to him. But then, I’d feel obligated to show mine, and I can’t afford to do that.

We don’t say much as he continues to feed me and encourages me to drink my water. He keeps one hand on my body, though, soothing me with the connection. I’ve never been pampered like this, and it feels amazing. Yet I can’t help wondering if he does this for every submissive he flogs.

I look up at him through my lashes. “I guess I understand now why you’re so popular.”

Master Blake tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. “What do you mean?”

I gesture to the nearly empty plate of food and my bottle of water. “If this is how you treat people after a session, it’s no wonder so many women want to do scenes with you.”

He squeezes my thigh, his stare laser-focused on me. “I’ve never done this for anyone else.”

My eyebrows lift to my hairline and he chuckles, rising from the bed to pull on his pants.

“This was only for you. I’ll see you next weekend, little one.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips before I watch him walk out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

You can count on it, Master Blake. I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.

1

BLAKE

Irub my temples as I look over the syllabus for my new class. I’ve been teaching upper-level calculus courses for a few years here at Xavier College, so I usually work with juniors and seniors who already have a solid mathematical foundation. But one of my colleagues is on maternity leave, so the dean divvied up her courses for the semester and I got stuck with Calculus 220.

I’m not upset about it or anything, and I don’t mind teaching underclassmen. But it’s going to be different from what I’m used to. Different from the students who have to complete my courses, because they’ve majored in something heavily focused on mathematics and are typically more dedicated to doing the work. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it now, so I’ll just roll with the punches and hope her class shows some maturity.

I’ve decided to stick with the syllabus that my colleague created, and I’m reviewing it when the classroom starts to fill up with students. I’m facing the auditorium of stadium seats, with a desk at my side and a huge projector screen behind me. When the classroom is almost full, I shut the door and take my spot atthe front of the room as the students pull out their laptops and notebooks. But my steps falter when my eyes land on a young woman sitting by herself in the first row, and I’m struck with a sense of familiarity.

She’s beautiful and has an air of elegance that surrounds her but doesn’t come off as pretentious. I can’t take my eyes off her, but I know I shouldn’t be staring at a student like this so I force my focus back on the rest of the class. Yet I can’t shake the sense that I know her, even though I’m not sure why I feel this way.

As I make my introduction and give a brief overview of the course, I keep glancing at the pretty girl who seems to demand my attention with her mere presence. She has light-brown skin and hazel eyes, with espresso-brown hair that’s straight and shiny. And even though she’s sitting behind a small desk connected to her seat, I can tell that she has killer curves, the kind a man dreams of getting his hands on.

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