A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the lovely feedback on this fic. This chapter's a bit longer, but it's just one more after this and the epilogue. I hope you enjoy it. :)
-Angie

"Mr. Mikaelson?" Caroline called, knocking on the door, a huge smile on her face.

"Caroline?" he asked, opening the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course, love."

He stood to the side to let her through and she saw him smile slightly at how she was practically bouncing up and down.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I got into NYU," she screeched, thrusting out her acceptance letter.

He gave her a brilliant, genuine smile. "That's fantastic, Sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks!"

He pulled her into a hug, surprising her, but she wrapped her arms around him in return. He smelled good, like he always did, and she liked how his warmth wrapped around her. He pulled back slowly, his eyes locked to hers, and she smiled widely.

"Let me take you out tonight."

"What?" she asked, slightly breathless. "Like...Like a date?"

He looked slightly uncomfortable, but nodded. "Yes. Out of town, of course, but yes. Like a date. A celebratory one."

"What does this mean?" she asked impulsively before backpedaling quickly once she realized what she'd said. "Like, I'm not trying to label this, because I don't want to be one of those naggy girls that just has to label things. That's not what I meant, but–"

"Caroline," he cut her off, his lips twitching. "It's quite all right. Please don't work yourself up."

"Sorry," she said, blushing again.

He just grinned. "I don't understand how it's possible that you're more relaxed around me with your clothes off than on, but that seems to be the case."

She glared at him, but he just smiled. "I'll meet you in front of the school after your practice today?"

"Sure."

He tipped her chin up to kiss her softly. "Is Italian all right?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

He kissed her again, squeezing her ass lightly before pulling back to return to his desk. "I have papers to grade, and you have fellow cheerleaders to berate for their incompetence."

"Hey, I don't berate my teammates."

He raised an eyebrow, and she huffed. "Okay, fine, maybe a little. But only when they're not doing what they're supposed to do."

"So when they're being incompetent?"

"Shut up," she mumbled, before realizing what she'd said and snapping her mouth shut with an audible click.

"Forgotten your place, have you? Do I need to bend you over my desk and remind you of it?" he asked, his eyes dark, moving toward her like a predator.

"No, Mr. Mikaelson," she said, biting her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson."

He gave her a smile that was all teeth and practically screamed danger, but she just lowered her eyes to the floor, fighting down a smile as he grabbed her hips and breathed against her ear, making her shiver. "Be careful, love. I don't have to be nice."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mikaelson," she panted as he squeezed her ass again through her tight jeans (it was Friday).

He pulled away. "Go to practice before I change my mind take you against the wall."

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson."

XXX

"Okay, let's head home guys. Good practice," Caroline said, clapping her hands.

There was a general rush for water before everyone headed back to the locker rooms to change.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" Bonnie asked as she pulled her practice top off and grabbed her blouse.

"No, it's okay. Thanks, though," Caroline said.

"Okay," Bonnie said slowly. "Well, congrats on NYU again. We're all super happy for you."
"Thanks, Bon," Caroline said, a smile lighting up her face.

"Maybe we can hang out Thursday?"

"I can't. I have tutoring," Caroline said.

"We're almost done with the semester. Can't you cancel for the week? Kat and I miss you!"

"I can do Tuesday?"

"Fine," Bonnie said, looking a bit put out.

"Look, it's almost summer, and I'll have a lot more free time then," Caroline said, privately thinking that she should ask him about summer plans at some point.

"That's true. I don't know; I'm just worried. You've been around a lot, but you've been working your ass off, and now that you've gotten into NYU, I figured that you'd relax a bit."

"Bonnie, it's fine. Barnard is really close to NYU. It's not like we'll never see each other again after summer."

"That's true," Bonnie said. "Okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Definitely."

She waved goodbye to Bonnie, purposefully taking awhile to get dressed, and grabbed her phone from the dresser, flipping it open. I'm waiting until everyone leaves. Be there soon.

The response was almost instant. Waiting in the parking lot. Do you know which car is mine?

She rolled her eyes. Please. Everyone knows what car is yours. What kind of teacher drives a tesla?

It had been a subject of gossip for months after he came to the school the year before, since the tiny electric car was incredibly expensive. It was the only reason that she hadn't asked him directly why everything he bought her seemed to be so expensive (she knew exactly how much La Perla lingerie cost, thank you very much).

The kind that doesn't appreciate impertinent questions.

She rolled her eyes. Sorry. Be out soon.

She rushed through re-dressing and stuffed her uniform in her locker, grabbing her purse and heading outside, the heels of her boots clicking on the pavement.

She looked around and saw his car in the parking lot, and she walked over to slip into the passenger seat, closing it behind her and putting her seatbelt on.

"Where are we going?"

She didn't know how he managed to give her a chastising look without even moving his eyes from the road (magical teacher powers?), but she winced. "Sorry, Mr. Mikaelson."

He smirked.

"We're going to Whitmore. It's a college town a few miles away. There's a small pasta place on the edge of town."

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson."

"And don't do that during dinner, please, Sweetheart."

"What do I call you then, Mr. Mikaelson?"

He gave her a dimpled smile. "Klaus."

XXX

"Is this all right?" he asked as he nipped her ear, his hands working on the button of her jeans, her boots and top already lying forgotten on the restaurant's bathroom floor.

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson," she said breathlessly, letting her head fall against the surprisingly clean tiled wall as he dropped hot kisses down her neck. "Aren't you afraid of someone catching us, though?"

"Not at all. I own this place. The manager knows not to bother us. He has an out of order sign up."

"You told the manager?" she asked indignantly before she moaned as he licked a particularly sensitive spot while pulling her jeans and thong down to her knees, supporting her against her wall by squeezing her ass, while she kicked them off to the ground.

"Marcel is trustworthy," he said simply, putting her down before capturing her lips with his, unhooking her bra and helping her shrug it off. He cupped her breasts in his hands, tweaking her nipples and making her moan, before grabbing her around the hips and turning her around to face the mirror. "Bend over, grab the sink."

She did, her hands clutching the marble counter, and she saw him unzip his slacks in the mirror, stroking himself a few times. "Spread your legs."

He groaned as he entered her, and she let her eyes flutter shut before he snapped at her to open them. "Look at yourself, bent over a sink in a public bathroom with your legs spread for me like a whore," he said, his voice like silk and he spoke to her in a low tone. "You're so fucking tight around me, Sweetheart. So perfect."

He gripped her hips as he started fucking her slowly, her breasts swaying with every thrust. "I love watching your flushed face while I fuck you from behind; the way you bite your lip trying not to scream for me, and trying so hard to please me by keeping your eyes wide open and watching while I take you."

She whimpered softly, her teeth scraping her lip, her knuckles white as she gripped the counter, and she saw him smirk at her in the mirror.

"Do you know what I love most?"

"What, Mr. Mikaelson?" she panted, unable to stifle the loud moan when he began to rub her clit as he fucked her, the slap of his skin hitting hers reverberating through the tiled room.

"I love the way your collar clinks against the sink. Every time I hear that sound I want you to remember who you whore yourself out to, who bends you over and takes you hard until you scream, who you belong to."

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson."

Her words were strangled, and she could see his eyes darken with desire. She averted her eyes to see her own flushed face, her blonde side swept bangs sticking to her forehead with sweat, his hand digging into her hip as he stroked her ass with his thumb while the other circled her to rub her clit.

"Come for me," he ordered sharply. "I want you to come around my cock and watch your face while you do it. I want you to remember who's fucking you and making you come."

He rubbed her clit harder, the keeping the same rhythm while he slammed into her more deeply, and she came undone around him, her walls clenching tightly around his cock, and she panted out about six different expletives as he continued to rub her clit while she came.

"Good girl," he praised as she came down from her high, moving his hand away from her clit to tangle his fingers in her hair, making her whimper as he tugged slightly, the stab of arousal in her lower belly almost pleasurably painful. "Do you want me to come inside you?"

"Yes, Mr. Mikaelson."

"Tell me," he ordered, still slamming into her, the feeling of his cock filling her sensitive skin making her gasp.

"I-I want you fill me with your come. I want it to drip down my legs and dry there."

"Dirty little slut, aren't you?"

"Your dirty little slut," she gasped, knowing it would probably tip him over the edge.

She was right, and he groaned as he came, tugging her hair hard enough to make her let out a small shout of surprise, her lips parted. She watched in the mirror as his head lolled back while he continued fucking her as he came, his balls slapping against her skin with every thrust.

"Stand up," he ordered, a bit breathless.

She stuffed down a smile at the sound of his normally controlled voice shook by his harsh breathing, and turned to him, returning his smile. He kissed her roughly, biting her lip and thrusting his tongue into her mouth, doing up his slacks as he did so. He pulled back. "Spread your legs and hold onto the sink. I want to see my come run down your thighs."

She gasped slightly at how filthy the order sounded dropping from his lips, but she did so, making him smirk. He bent down, picking up her bra from the floor helping her put it back on, letting her lift her arms to put them through the straps before he pressed them back against the sink, apparently waiting for his come to dry on her legs. She blushed as he dropped a few kisses on her neck while he refastened the garment and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples through the lace. "Such a good girl," he mumbled into her ear, his hot breath making her shiver.

He swiped two fingers between her legs and appeared to be satisfied that his come had dried before he pulled back. "Get dressed, Sweetheart. I'll drive you home. Or as close as we can get without people seeing."

"You do realize how conspicuous your car is?" she asked, still a bit flushed and breathless.

"I know. We're borrowing Marcel's. If you're nervous, I can have him drive you," he suggested, smiling slightly.

She shook her head. "It's okay."

He bent down and kissed her softly. "I really am proud of you, you know. And excited for you."

She gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed the plot (such as it is). Looking forward to your thoughts.
Hugs!
-Angie