Dr. Single Dad: A Single Doctor and Virgin Romance

by Dark Angel

  He keeps saying that, but I’m more than happy to hear it over and over. I reach for him, pulling at the hem of his shirt, working it up and over his shoulders, revealing all that intricate ink that winds across his chest and around his arms. I trace the colors, entranced.

  “My turn,” he murmurs, pulling my shirt up. His eyes fall on the tattoo I have on the side of my chest. A bar of music and a bluebird woven together. A grin tips his mouth. “I love it.”

  Then he makes quick work of ridding me of my jeans and shoes, leaving me spread before him in nothing but my bra and panties.

  “My turn,” I echo, sitting up and unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them down with his underwear, revealing his cock. I gasp as it bounces free, so long and thick and hard that I have to wrap my hand around it, have to dip my mouth down for a taste of the bead of precum on the tip.

  Evan groans. “Tatum. God. That feels so good.”

  I smile, loving that I’m making him feel this way. Holy shit. It hits me like a freight train. I’m about to take Evan Anderson’s cock inside my mouth. Mind. Blown.

  I lick a circle around the head, then drag my tongue down his length. I work my way back up slowly, my eyes on his, then press him between my lips, going down as far as I can, loving how he fills my mouth.

  It’s not long before his groaning and swelling, and he jerks me off of him in a hurry. “No. Need to be inside you. Promised you I’d make you cum over and over.” He winks, pulling a condom from his pants and rolling it on quickly.

  He crawls on top of me, unhooking my bra and tossing it aside. Then he licks his way down my stomach to my panties, grabbing them with his teeth and dragging them down my legs. It has to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Then he licks his way back up my inner thigh, settling his head between them and licking my pussy until I’m writhing on the bed, begging him to fuck me.

  With a growl, Evan grabs my hips and yanks me to the edge of the bed, pulling my legs up to rest on his shoulders. I feel his cock pressing at my entrance. Pressing inside. Slowly filling me up, sliding all the way inside, stretching me in the best possible way.

  Then we begin to move, our bodies in sync, both needy and desperate.

  “Tatum,” he moans. “I’ll take my time with you. Later. Right now I have to have you.”

  I couldn’t agree more. “Yes. Fuck me, Evan. Fuck me hard.”

  He does, pounding into me over and over until I feel like I’m about to explode. And as he swells inside me, his cock becoming impossibly thicker, I feel myself clenching and pulsing, an electric current running through my body, setting off sparks as I cum so damn hard. And Evan’s coming too. Pumping deep inside me while we both cry out in pleasure.

  I gasp for breath, my body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm, and then he’s there beside me, scooping me up and cradling me against him.

  Oh my god. I just had sex with Evan Anderson.

  I laugh. It seems impossible.

  He nuzzles my neck. “That was incredible.”

  I sigh contentedly. “I think I saw stars.” I angle my head to look at him, shaking it with disbelief. “Well, one, anyway.”

  He kisses my shoulder. “Just wait, baby. I have big plans for you. I’m not going to let you out of this bed for any reason until I have to leave for my show tomorrow night.”

  Gravity is playing back-to-back sold-out shows because they’re so huge.

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  He makes good on it. And I go to his show the next day, watching from backstage. Then we go back and do it all over again.

  Ana & Oliver

  Ana

  I scroll through my phone, looking for something fun to do later after school. It’s going to be a long freaking day. I hate the first day of classes. It’s always just a bunch of introductions and syllabus handouts. I’d much rather stay in bed.

  Sighing, I glance up and look around me on the train. It would be a whole lot easier to live on campus instead of at my sister’s place out in Brooklyn. It’s a lot closer to all the action. I love going to NYU. Well, all except the classes part.

  My eyes pause on a man sitting across from me reading on an e-reader. Short cropped hair, just a bit longer on top like he’s going for professional but not quite there. Wire-rimmed glasses, button up shirt, and a man bag sitting near his feet scream that the dude is a grad student. Probably in the psych department, if I had to guess.

  As if he feels my scrutiny, he glances up from whatever he’s reading—probably some Freudian mumbo jumbo—and his eyes lock with mine.

  I feel all the breath fly from my lungs. Holy hell. Those eyes. They’re the deepest brown. Almost black. And they’re looking at me as if he can see straight through me. I feel like I’m being sucked right in.

  Then he smiles, slow and knowing, a flash of straight white teeth that make me wonder what they’d feel like scraping along my skin.

  Shaking myself, stunned by the instant jolt of awareness swirling between us, I quirk my lips up in a grin.

  “You a student?” His voice is smooth and strong, and it rolls over me like honey.

  I arch a brow. “Is it obvious?”

  He gestures at my body, and I look down, confused.

  Yeah, I guess I exude that college girl vibe. Cutoff shorts and an NYU t-shirt, flip-flops, and hair pulled back in a messy bun like I can’t be bothered to take the time to put more effort into my appearance for a class. Which, of course, is totally true. Maybe it’s the backpack that’s the dead giveaway.

  I smile and tip my head to the side, tapping my finger to my cheek as if I don’t already have him pegged. “Let me guess. Grad student. Psychology. Going for your doctorate.”

  He lets out a baffled laugh. “How the hell could you know that?”

  So maybe human nature fascinates me. Especially the way the mind works. Most people write me off as a party girl. Ana, the girl who doesn’t take anything seriously except finding the next good time. They aren’t wrong.

  But that’s only because my take on the human condition is that you better live your life while you can. Don’t waste a second. Live in the moment. That’s my motto. Something I constantly struggle to get my friend Tatum to do.

  As for reading this guy? That’s something that seems to come naturally. The whole world is like a huge social experiment to me, and I’ve become a pro, my fascination with observation making reading people second nature.

  My grin widens, and I make sure to show my dimples, knowing guys are suckers for them. “So, I’m right?”

  “You’ve got me pegged.”

  I bite my lip and arch a brow wryly. “Do I now?”

  He laughs, shaking his head at the unintended insinuation.

  The train screeches to a stop, and we both stand, apparently headed to the same place. We pour onto the platform with all the other people, then fall into step beside each other.

  He looks at me, intrigued. “How could you possibly know that? At least that accurately. I mean, come on. You have to admit that’s crazy.”

  I shrug, looking over at him, realizing just how tall he is now that we’re standing side by side. His forearms are exposed where his sleeves are rolled up, and I can see corded muscles that make me wonder just what this guy looks like underneath those preppy clothes.

  Something tells me that even though my initial impression of him is dead on, there’s something more to him. Intense. Severe. Naughty. A chuckle slips out at the direction of my thoughts.

  “What?” he asks, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “You’re the psych major,” I tease. “Shouldn’t you be able to figure me out?”

  His eyes trail down my body, and I feel a slow thrum pulse through me when they linger on the short hem of my cutoffs. “Not even close.”

  “Looks like you need to spend more time studying if you want to be called Doctor in the future.”

  He laughs as we cross the street and head toward campus, pointing a finger at
me. “You’re trouble.”

  I wink and flash my dimples again. “You have no idea.”

  I continue to tease and flirt as we make our way toward the psych building, where my first class is, and—presumably—his too. I slow as we approach the lecture hall, and notice he’s slowing down alongside me.

  Turning to me, he grins a little shyly, reaching behind his head to rub his neck. “Want to grab a cup of coffee later?”

  I take my time to answer, loving that I seem to be making him nervous the longer I make him wait. Finally, I lift a shoulder. “Sounds like that could be fun.”

  He gives me a lopsided smile and pulls out his phone and hands it to me, and I punch in my number and call myself to swap numbers.

  I hand it back to him then wiggle my fingers. “Later.”

  I turn to head into the classroom, nearly bumping into him when he does the same.

  I frown, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “This is me.”

  He looks at me for a minute like he can’t quite process my words. “You?”

  I laugh. “My class.” I hook a thumb toward the lecture hall, moving to go in. “Right in here.”

  The look on his face makes my stomach drop. Because he follows me in, right on my heels. “This is my class,” he says, his voice heavy with disappointment.

  It takes me a minute to fully realize what he means. But when he continues passing by me and heads for the desk at the front of the lecture hall, it’s all totally clear. It’s his class.

  As in he’s the professor. And I’m the student.

  Fuck.

  Oliver

  “I’m Oliver Mason, a grad student here at NYU, and I’ll be your professor this semester.” I address the class as calmly as I can.

  But I can hardly focus on going through my standard introduction and syllabus explanation as I stand at the front of the lecture hall. I can’t keep my eyes from going back to her over and over, the realization pissing me off. This girl—Ana, according to the class roster—is my student.

  I want to grind my teeth together. It shouldn’t upset me as much as it does. I mean, I don’t even know her. We literally spent fifteen minutes talking to each other. But I’m not gonna lie. I was seriously excited about the idea of having coffee with her later.

  And now I can’t.

  From the minute she opened her mouth on the train, I was fascinated. Totally drawn in. Not just because she’s fucking sexy, those long, long legs so smooth and tempting. But because I can tell she’s way more than the flirty image she puts off.

  I sigh and try to get this over with. When I’m done, breezing through the first day bullshit in record time, I ask, “Okay, anyone have any questions about anything?” I just want to get out of here.

  And of course, her hand flies up. I meet her eyes. Teasing. Laughing. Taunting. I want to groan. She’s going to make this semester hell for me. I can just feel it.

  “This end of semester project? The study of social mores. Are there any limitations to what we can explore?”

  I’m torn between feeling dread at what she might say next and being totally turned on that she seems to get this stuff. This topic that I love so much. I can just tell she’s as into it as I am. That’s sexy as hell to me.

  Shoving down the thought, I answer her warily. “That depends. What do you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking I might explore the reasoning behind taboo relationships. How it evolved, why it’s still an issue today, why they matter.” She pauses, her eyes full of meaning as she stares right at me. “Or why they don’t. You know, discuss why it might be okay to push the boundaries a little.”

  Fuck.

  Her words are heavy with insinuation. Like she’s daring me to push those limits with her.

  A smirk threatens to disrupt the aloof calm I’m barely maintaining. She’s something else. I reach up and scratch my temple with my index finger as I contemplate a safe way to answer her. Then I say the least safe thing I possibly could.

  “I think that’s an excellent idea. I’d love to see where your thoughts fall on that topic.”

  She smiles as if that’s exactly what she wanted me to say.

  And I’m so fucked. Because I want to push the boundaries when it comes to her. Even though it’s the stupidest thing I could possibly do.

  Then I must lose my sanity completely with the next words that fall from my lips, as if I have no control over my own brain. “In fact, why don’t you see me after class and we can discuss this further.”

  Ana bites her lip, obviously fighting a smile as her eyes flash with satisfied amusement while she simply nods.

  God, this is such a bad idea. So very bad. Even though I’m a grad student teaching an intro-level course, there are still standards and expectations. It’s not quite the same thing as a member of the faculty being involved with a student. But it might as well be. The line is very thin.

  And my dumb ass is walking right up to it, seeing how far I can push it.

  I dismiss the class, taking my time shoving everything back into my bag as all the students shuffle out. When I finally look up, she’s the only one left inside.

  “So, Professor Mason,” Ava says, walking slowly toward my desk. “Or can I call you Oliver?”

  I totally want her calling me Oliver. Preferably while she’s laid out before me, naked and writhing, screaming it as I make her cum.

  And just like that, my dick is hard as a rock, straining against my pants, telling my brain that I need to grab her and sink into her.

  I draw in a slow breath, hoping it will steady me. Fighting for control over my brain. Telling my dick I’m the one in charge here.

  He doesn’t get the message.

  Her eyes drop, and I know she can totally see how hard I am. When she flicks her gaze back up to mine, the desire in her eyes is obvious. She wants this as much as I do.

  “So, about that project,” she begins. “I think I’m going to need some assistance. Some one-on-one attention. Do you think you can help me with that, professor?”

  She’s dangerous. Bad. Pure temptation. But, god, how much do I want to sink my teeth into the sweet sin she’s offering up?

  “Why don’t you come to my office and we can discuss this further?”

  Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “I think that sounds perfect.”

  Ana

  Oliver locks the door behind him and turns to me, conflict in his eyes.

  I know what he’s thinking. This is a bad idea.

  Totally. The worst. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going ahead with it. Like I said, live in the moment. What’s the worst that could happen? We fuck and things get awkward? Okay. I’m game. As long as I get the fucking part.

  I turn and hop up on his desk, my fingers gripping the edge. I give him a devious grin. “So, about those boundaries. Tell me, professor, just why is it that some things are so taboo?”

  He walks slowly toward me, shaking his head, his eyes boring into mine. “Right now I’m really not sure.”

  I laugh and purse my lips. “I think the best way to find out would be to do a really in-depth experiment. You know, really go deep.”

  Oliver laughs. “You, Ana, are a very dangerous woman.”

  “You know,” I say, cocking my head as if I’m thinking seriously. “I think we need to make sure that you’re able to help me out with what I need. That we can work well together. In fact, I think we should probably make sure of that right now. It would be a shame if you weren’t able to help me.”

  His eyes darken as he steps closer. Right between my legs that open up for him as he approaches. Inviting him in.

  “I can give you everything you need, Ana. Don’t doubt that for a second.” His voice is low and almost threatening, and it sends a thrill through me that settles in my core, my pussy throbbing with anticipation.

  “Show me.” I lift my chin as if it’s a challenge.

  He rests his hands on my thighs, pushing them further apart. “Actually,” h
e says, his eyes dark with hungry desire, “I think that’s an excellent idea. I’m a firm believer in hands-on methods of instruction.”

  “Oh, are you?” Hell yeah.

  He backs up abruptly and pulls me off his desk, standing in front of me, feet spread wide. “On your knees.”

  Oh my god. My breath whooshes out in a pant, and I immediately obey. This has taken a totally unexpected and thrilling turn. Fast. And I couldn’t be more excited.

  “Now what, professor?”

  He pretends like he’s thinking, but I can tell from the gleam in his eyes that he already knows what he wants. “Open wide and let me cum down your throat.”

  Holy fucking hell. Yes. His words make my pussy even wetter than it already is as I look up at him, hastily freeing his straining cock from the confines of his pants.

  This is insane. Totally crazy. All kinds of wrong. And I can’t get enough. I have to admit I didn’t expect him to be so willing to get dirty with me. Or so commanding. There is definitely a dirty side to this man, even more than I suspected. I want to dig in and discover all of it.

  So I do. First, I lick up the underside of his shaft from base to tip, slowly, teasingly, swirling my tongue around the swollen head. Then I take him in my mouth, going down on him as far as I can and making up the difference by wrapping my fingers around the base.

  I begin to work my head up and down, hollowing out my cheeks and making my mouth as wet and tight as possible. I feel a thrill go through me as I continue to suck him off.

  “Fuck, Ava. You feel so good,” he grinds out, plunging his fingers into my hair as he fucks my face. “Such a bad girl. I’m going to cum in that naughty mouth and make you swallow every last drop of my cum.”

  I moan, wanting that too. His dirty words turn me on so much that I have to touch myself, the throbbing in my clit unbearable. I reach down and unbutton my shorts.

  “So, so good,” he growls again, pulling my hair just how I like it, knowing somehow that it turns me on even more. He keeps right on thrusting into my mouth, hard and fast.