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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N 1: This chapter contains harsh language, and a very naughty Mr. Pratt. (Okay, what's new?) But seriously, there's a teensy bit of violence in this chapter, so you have been warned in case this bothers you.
A/N 2: Beta'ed by the ever patient and wonderful peroxidelove. Thanks dear!
“What film are you showing?” Ms. Rosenberg asked.

“Lolita.”

“Let's go, Willow.” Buffy choked, dragging a very confused Ms. Rosenberg along with her.

“Well, bye Mr. Pratt!” The redhead called before they both disappeared through the double doors.

That evening, William went home and ransacked his liquor cabinet thinking about how Buffy's cheeks turned a deep shade of red when he had mentioned the coquettish namesake. Judging by the change in demeanor around her friend, he could bet that Buffy hadn't told anyone about their relationship. That was a great relief to him. If anyone found out about their little meetings, he could get fired, thrown in jail, or worse-- people would start talking, asking questions about how he ended up in California in the first place. And he couldn't have that. William had worked hard to start a new life and he truly couldn't risk it by continuing these dalliances with his student.

But he didn't know if he possessed the willpower to stop.

Sitting in his leather arm chair, he thought about their first time, squeezing a tumbler of whiskey till his knuckles went white.

-----***************-----

She stormed into his office, demanding to know why she received a C for the trimester.

“While your class participation is duly noted, the bulk of your papers contain thin arguments, and mediocre writing at best.” She stared at him agape, which prompted him to continue. “And…you continue to show up to class in your cheerleading uniform which, need I remind you, is against school policy. Not to mention, completely inappropriate for the classroom environment.”

“What? This is totally unfair. Half of those other Slutty McSluts show up to class with their plaid skirts rolled up to their ass cheeks. I'm rushing to get to your stupid class and I don't have time to change,” she retorted. “Plus, I know you check me out. Don't even get me started on how inappropriate that is.”

She was mocking him. Had she really noticed? Despite his best attempts to think unsexy thoughts when she was around, her mere presence definitely got a rise out of him. So much in fact, that he resorted to lecturing from behind his desk, desperately trying to hide the stiffness in his pants. In a sea of faceless, nameless girls, this one was a lightning rod. And damn it, God was probably going to strike him with a few thousand bolts for what he proposed she do to improve her grade.


But no one was more surprised than him, when she agreed. The first time he came in her mouth, she had smiled up at him and admitted she’d fantasized about this scenario; being on her on her knees, lording over his impressive member. “It's so big”, she cooed, confessing that she had been dumbing down her work to see what kind of reaction she could elicit. It was indeed, quite a reaction.

“I'll have the revised papers ready for you on Monday.” Again, her soft hand stroked him to hardness, and William gritted his teeth trying to battle the little voice inside that was screaming for him to end this now.

But then she started showing up to his office on a weekly basis, so he didn't. Because frankly, it felt too good to stop. What happened to boundaries, mate? Each time he drew a line she crossed it, so he would mentally erase it and draw it again. He was afraid to think where this was going.

The following week he had tried to express his disapproval.

“This has to stop.” It came out weak, and lacked assurance.

“Why?” She frowned. Even her pout was delicious. He fought against every reflex to brush those berry stained lips with his thumb and drag her head into his lap.

“Because it's wrong. We've gone beyond inappropriate, sweetheart.” He fiddled with his pen, thinking of ways to convince himself that this should end. “I could get in serious trouble. And you--- well, you should be with someone your own age!”

“I don't like anyone my own age. I like you.”

His face softened. She likes me! This is a bloody riot. “Well you shouldn't. It's wrong and completely perverse.” He worked up the nerve to examine her reaction. She didn't budge.
So William decided to frighten her, it was the only way to kill this in its tracks.

He’d brought this upon himself. Part of the reason he left London was precisely because he initiated a relationship eerily similar to this one. It had been different with Drusilla though. He hadn't thought of her in a long time, but his insides wretched when he thought of how that relationship ended.

It couldn’t happen again. No. Not with Buffy. He wouldn’t let it happen. He'd been too sweet, and too encouraging. It was time to show her his dark side. God knows he was damn well capable of it. He dusted off an arsenal of words he swore he would never use again. “You still want to suck my cock, you little pervert?” His voice was shaky. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

Buffy's jaw dropped. She didn't seem to notice his hesitation.

“Get up and shut the door, Miss Summers. Then get on my desk.”

She paused, and William sighed a breath of relief. “It's not too late. You can leave now and we can forget any of this ever happened.” Please tell me I disgust you so I can go back to thinking about you and wanking in private. Then they could end this and get on with their lives.

But a tiny part of him hoped she wouldn't say anything, and it sickened him.

She flinched at first, but nevertheless obeyed. He rolled his chair around to the side and picked up her legs, planting them on either side of his armrests. He held her by the ankles as he barked his orders.

“Lift up your skirt.” He watched as she toyed with the hem, fear and excitement flashing across her face. “You want me, is that right? Then don't keep me waiting.”

As she pinned it over her belly, William noticed the damp spot forming on her panties. He was mesmerized. She spent so much time lavishing him with pleasure that he didn't even know this wet gem was hidden underneath that dainty skirt.

“Tsk tsk tsk... Look at these dirty little knickers. Are you always so soaked?”

She shook her head.

He gulped. “Do I make you wet?”

“Uh huh.”

“How so?” Oh lord. It was like the air sucked out of the room as he awaited her response.

“Everything you do; your silky voice, and that accent. The way you say my name--- oh god! The way you crook your eyebrow in class when someone says something funny or smart, the way you walk down the hall like you own the place. The way your butt looks when you're writing…” She paused, searching for the right word. “…vigorously on the chalkboard....um... oh fuck.”

In spite of his original intentions, he was pleased. “You're clearly good for my ego, Miss Summers,” he snickered. “Tell me, what do you do when you think about me? Do you play with your nasty little snatch? Stick a few fingers in and whisper my name into the abyss?”

Her fingers twisted into her skirt and she writhed against the wooden desk. He swallowed hard and squirmed in his seat too. Perhaps, this was a bad idea.

She's only 17. What kind of man are you? His conscience had a habit of rearing its annoying head a moment too late. But the sexy mewls bubbling from this girl made it easier ignore the better voice of reason. The words started to spill from this deep seated place inside. His demeanor shifted. He was getting into a character that he long thought was dead and buried.

“Hmm? Tell me all the sordid things you do to yourself under your Hello Kitty covers. No, better yet, show me. Let's see if I'm right about you being a perverted slut.” When he found himself lowering his zipper and releasing his throbbing cock, he knew this was a really bad idea. But he couldn't stop now.

With a trembling hand she pushed her white cotton briefs aside and swirled a finger around her swollen nub. Such a beautiful sight, all swollen and glistening. She rubbed it lightly before pushing a nervous finger inside her hole. So bloody perfect.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” he baited. “Don't tell me you don't fuck yourself, thinking of me. Imagining it was my cock ripping you apart.” The rougher the words, the harder he stroked.

At this, she worked in another finger and pushed both deep inside her cavern. “Oh...uh...mmm...” She pulled them out and thrust again. And again. Watching her pink polished nails disappear and reappear was like a sick game of Peek-a-Boo. Each time she pulled out her fingers, they were shinier than the last. They looked so delectable, dripping with sticky sweet sin. He wanted to wrap those fingers with his lips and suck them dry.

But that wasn't part of the plan, was it? He was supposed to scare her senseless. And here he was, getting off on watching her do all the work. Just being near her drove him wild. But he wasn't going to touch her there. No. There would be no pleasure; only pain. It started with one hand frigging himself senseless, but the other snaked its way up her leg, massaging her lovely calf. His fingers tensed, and he applied pressure. Not a man, just a monster.

She squealed. It felt good at first-- it always did. And then he tightened his grasp, squeezing the firm flesh till she began to whimper in pain. “Stop... stop!”

He released his grip. “Had enough?”

She sat up, annoyance written across her face. “You can't leave bruises. I have a game tomorrow.”

William was flabbergasted at her response. “That's all your worried about? Don't you want to run and scream bloody murder?”

“Why should I?” She gingerly touched the reddening skin. “The Hello Kitty sheets were a nice touch by the way. But I haven't had them since I was like, ten.”

Which wasn't that long ago. “Why you naughty little minx... Don't think I won't punish you for this. In fact, punishment starts now. I want an extra essay on Ophelia. Make it good and don't skimp on those footnotes.”

She turned up her lip in protest.

He patted her head gently. “I'm a bad, rude man. So you can forget about cumming too.”

-----************-----

The whiskey was long gone. William was in the shower trying to sober up.

And trying to rinse away the mess he’d made on the tiles.

It seemed his every waking moment was spent thinking about her. She invaded his thoughts and set up home. There was no getting her out.

His conscience made one last plea. It's not too late to stop.

An image of Buffy flashed before him. On her back and squirming with her hand darting underneath her skirt. His balls stirred in recollection, and he cradled them in his wet palm.

Afraid it is, mate.


Chapter End Notes:
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