Let me cum，Professer

(Vera's POV)

His palm pressed against the back of my neck, while his other hand gripped my hip, hauling me up.

"Arch your back."

"Ah—" I screamed.

Too thick. Every inch of it stretched me open, that swollen ache braiding together with the pleasure until my toes curled and my mind went blank.

I bit into the pillow, whimpering, drool soaking a small patch of fabric.

"Let me hear you." He fisted my hair and pulled me upright, his lips against my ear. "Say whatever you want."

"Daddy…" I heard my own voice, soft in a way that didn't sound like me. "Daddy, please—"

He rewarded me with a hard thrust, one hand pinching my waist while the other slid around to the front—

Buzz.

The moment the vibrator pressed against my clit, I bucked like a fish before he pinned me down again.

"Ahh, mm… Professor, no, not that—" I sobbed, shaking my head.

He laughed under his breath and cranked it to Max, his lips gliding along the shell of my ear. "Carrying around this many toys. Very professional, Miss Vera."

He ground the little thing into my folds with his thumb while driving into me again. The double stimulation short-circuited my brain.

"No…"

He ignored me. Instead, he tugged at the silver chain of the nipple clamps, letting those wicked little things bite down on me with perfect precision.

It hurt—but there was a tingling too, shooting straight down into my belly.

He pulled me off the pillow by the chain until my back was flush against his chest. A large, knuckled hand caught my chin and forced me to look at the mirror in front of us—and I saw a woman with red-rimmed eyes, swollen lips, a silver chain hanging from her chest, a mess between her legs.

"How much for a night?" he asked. "So dedicated to your work."

I shook my head, incoherent. "No, I'm not—I'm not…"

"Your mouth lies, but the rest of you is honest." He drove deeper, and I screamed, clenching around him. "A well-trained little slut."

Being degraded shouldn't have turned me on more, but my body clenched beyond my control, the pleasure spiking toward the edge. I was almost there, I was—

Smack.

His palm came down on my ass, and the pleasure was cut off at its peak, so abruptly I nearly cried. The emptiness felt like something had been scooped out of my stomach.

"Beg me."

I opened my mouth—

"Next stop, San Marco."

The automated female voice over the intercom hit me like a bucket of cold water.

I opened my eyes.

Beyond the bus window stretched a gray, hazy highway, a road sign announcing forty miles left to home. The air from the AC vent carried the smell of diesel and the stuffy heat of vinyl seats.

I shifted my legs uncomfortably. The space between my thighs was sticky, unbearable. My underwear had to be soaked through.

For three months now, every time I dreamed of that night with Professor Cavalieri… I got so wet I couldn't stop.

My name is Vera, and I'm a senior at St. Vincent University. And the leading man in my wet dreams is a professor who only arrived this year—everyone says he's as handsome as a mafia godfather straight out of a gangster film.

A weight leaned against me.

Theo's head tipped onto my shoulder, his knit cap slipping down just enough to reveal the pale skin of his forehead.

I looked at the bruised needle marks on the back of his hand, and the leftover heat from the dream slowly cooled.

My little brother had systemic lupus, and it had spread to his kidneys. I'd spent the entire summer of my junior year going with him across state lines for treatment.

My phone buzzed. A text from the bank. Balance: $412.36.

It was fine. Everything would be okay once we got home. Dad ran a building-materials business, and just last week he'd told me a big client had come through—once the payment cleared, he'd cover Theo's next round of treatment.

Once we got home, there'd be money.

At the station, I flagged down a cab to take my brother and me home.

"Vera…" Theo rubbed his eyes. "Why are there two pieces of paper on our door?"

I didn't dare think about what that might mean.

I was out of the car before it had fully stopped, running over to see for myself—one was a court seal, stamped in red ink.

The other had no words on it at all. Just a single black circle drawn by hand.

"Vera." Theo stopped behind me, his voice very small. "…Don't we have a home anymore?"

"Don't say silly things." I turned and smiled at him. "As long as I'm here, you have a home."

I pried the lock open with a hairpin.

This place hadn't just been empty for a week. The air was thick with dust and mildew.

The sofa, the TV, the dining table… even the carpet was gone.

A sheet of paper had been left pinned under something on the table. My father's handwriting, so scrawled it was barely legible—

"Vera, I'm sorry. My partner tricked me into a loan investment… lost everything. I'm leaving. Don't look for me. Take care of Theo."

He'd just dumped this disaster on his daughter—who hadn't even finished college—and a minor?!

Furious, I called him.

Phone off.

I called again. Still off.

I bit down hard on my lip and dug up a number I hadn't dialed in three years—I hadn't wanted to bother her, not since Mom remarried.

"Vera?" She sounded surprised. In the background I could hear a child calling for Mommy.

"Mom, Dad—something's happened, and I need—can you—"

"Vera." She cut me off. "I have my own family now. Don't call again."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone screen for a long time, until it dimmed on its own into a black mirror. A pale face stared back at me from inside it.

I turned the note over. There were numbers on the back.

Bank loan: four point two million dollars.

Another debt: three point six million dollars. No creditor's name—just a black circle drawn beside it.

Identical to the one on the door.

Outside, an engine suddenly roared.

I whipped my head around and saw a black pickup parked out front. Five men climbed out.

The one in the lead was tall, broad-shouldered and thick-backed, like a bear standing on its hind legs.

He kicked open the door I'd just pried loose.

"Vera Reynolds?" He scanned the empty room, then finally looked at me and grinned. "Here on behalf of Belloni Trust. Collecting a debt."

I stepped in front of Theo.

"Legally," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could, "as long as the debtor is alive, you can't pursue repayment from his children."

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Miss, your father signed a personal unlimited joint guarantee." He tapped off the ash. "You carry that name, you carry that debt."

"And if I refuse to acknowledge it?" I said.

Behind him, a short man tilted his head and smirked. "Then we'll just have to find another way to get our money. Say—your little brother there isn't bad. Rich men love a pretty boy."

"Don't touch him!" My voice came out so loud it startled even me. "I'll find a way to pay."

Silence for a few seconds.

Theo stepped out from behind me.

He opened the laptop he never went anywhere without and turned the screen toward the man.

"Your bad-debt ratio at Belloni Trust hit thirty-four percent last month." Theo's voice was quiet, but every word was clear.

"Because none of you can put together a quarterly compliance report. I can. My brain is a lot more useful than my body."

The big man took the cigarette out of his mouth.

"How old are you?"

"17！"

"Shit."

He stubbed the cigarette out on the edge of the table, stood up, and brushed the ash off his jacket.

"I won't touch the kid. But I can only give you three days," he said. "I'll be back."

They left.

I locked the door—even though the lock was broken—and only when I turned around did I notice an empty cigarette pack on the table. Two twenty-dollar bills were tucked underneath it.

I stared at those crumpled bills for a long time, not knowing whether it counted as pity.

I used that little bit of money to buy some food, laid out clothes to make a bed, and once Theo was asleep, I called St. Gabriel Hospital.

"The initial cost for the phase-two treatment plan is three hundred thousand, with a hundred thousand each month after that," the nurse said gently. "Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

"I… need to think about it."

I hung up and sat there staring at the few hundred dollars in my account.

My income from designing adult products—it had all gone into my senior-year tuition and Theo's treatment.

What was I supposed to do.

My stomach suddenly lurched.

I rushed to the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, gagging, but nothing came up—only wave after wave of nausea. I pressed a hand to my stomach and stayed there, breathing hard, for a while.

Wait… when was my last period?

A month ago. No—six weeks.

That night, in that man's bed, had he used protection?

I couldn't remember. The alcohol had shattered that night into fragments. All I remembered was his hands, his voice, and that absolute sense of domination when he pressed down on the back of my neck.

Fuck.

I tore through the bathroom cabinet and found, shoved all the way in the back, a box of pregnancy tests my mother had left behind. There was no time to wait until morning. Trembling, I ripped open the packaging.

Two lines.

I slid down onto the floor, my back against the cold tile wall.

I was pregnant.