Chapter 1

Sophia's POV

“Fuck, Michael… You're so big. Are you sure it will fit?”

God, I couldn’t believe this was happening.

I was twenty-five, and I was still a virgin.

And the only place I decided to lose it was in an empty lecture hall on the third floor while everyone worth knowing was downstairs at the college’s grand anniversary dinner.

Tonight was supposed to be my night.

The Éclat Couture Scholarship, the most prestigious fashion award the institute offered, was finally open for submissions.

One winner got full funding for their final-year collection, a guaranteed internship at Atelier Voss in Paris, and a name that actually meant something in the industry.

I’d spent six months perfecting my proposal: “Veiled Rebellion” a collection built around bridal sensual evening wear.

The pitch was ready and my portfolio was flawless.

All I needed was five minutes with Vice-Chancellor Wills.

Who also happened to be Michael’s father.

Michael had been “going to talk to him” for weeks.

Every time I asked, he’d kiss my neck, slide his hand between my thighs, and murmur,

“Soon, baby. I promise. Let me take care of you first.” And like an idiot, I let him distract me. Again. And again.

So here we were.

The door locked he swore it was, lights off except for the emergency exit sign bleeding red across the projector screen and my back pressed to the lecturer’s desk, panties long gone somewhere under the front row seats.

Michael’s mouth was on my throat, teeth grazing that spot that always made my knees buckle.

His fingers that had already taught me so much were stroking between my legs, spreading the slickness he’d spent the last ten minutes coaxing out of me with his tongue.

“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned against my skin. “Always so fucking ready.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Michael loved sex.

He was the one who showed me everything I knew before tonight.

The first time he made me come was with his mouth in the back of his car after a late-night critique session shaking around his head while I bit my own wrist to stay quiet.

After that it was toys: the slim silver bullet he made me wear to lectures with the remote in his pocket, the thick curved dildo he taught me to ride while he watched, the rose toy that suctioned to my clit until I sobbed his name.

Anal play, edging, overstimulation, light restraints with his silk ties, he introduced me to every filthy thing two people could do without actual penetration.

And I loved it. I craved it and I came so hard sometimes that I forget my own name.

But we’d never gone all the way.

I told myself I was waiting for the right moment.

What a joke.

Because right now, with my scholarship pitch burning a hole in my purse downstairs and his father probably wondering where his son disappeared to, the only thing screaming in my tiny, hormone-drenched brain was:

Fuck waiting.

I want him inside me, now.

Michael tugged his zipper down, freeing himself.

He was thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip.

My mouth watered even as nerves twisted low in my belly.

He notched himself at my entrance, rubbing the head through my folds, coating himself in me.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasped. “Say it.”

“I want it,” I breathed. “I want you to fuck me, Michael. Please.”

He pushed in one slow, relentless inch.

The stretch burned and was so much fuller than any toy. My nails dug into his shoulders. I hissed through clenched teeth.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured, kissing my jaw. “Breathe. You’re taking me so well.”

When he bottomed out, as his pubic bone grinding against my clit, I let out a broken, shaky laugh.

“Oh, my god…”

He stilled, letting me adjust, forehead pressed to mine..

“You okay?”

I nodded frantically. “Move. Please move.”

He did.

Slow at first, he started with deliberate drags that made me feel split open and claimed in the best way.

Then faster and harder that the desk creaked under us.

My thighs burned from how wide I had them wrapped around him.

“Fuck, Soph…you’re so tight,” he groaned. “So perfect. This pussy was made for me.”

I couldn’t speak anymore.

Only chasing the building pressure that felt different than anything he’d ever given me with fingers or toys.

Downstairs the music swelled but Up here, it was just wet skin slapping, my choked moans, and his ragged breathing against my ear.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasped.

“Michael…fuck…I’m…”

I was meeting Michael thrust for thrust now, hips rolling up to take him deeper, every slide in felt like it rewired something inside.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps echoing in the corridor outside the lecture hall.

“Mike,” I whispered urgently, breath catching. “Can you hear that?”

He didn’t even pause. Just groaned low against my neck, hips snapping harder.

“Your pussy is so sweet, baby… fuck, so tight… don’t stop clenching like that.”

“Michael…someone’s coming—”

He either didn’t hear or didn’t care. His rhythm turned punishing and desperate, like he was racing toward the edge and nothing else existed.

Panic spiked through the pleasure.

I shoved at his chest. “Come out, Mike. I think someone’s here.”

He froze for half a second, eyes glassy with lust, then pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and pressed me harder against the desk.

“We can’t stop now, baby,” he rasped, voice wrecked.

“I haven’t come yet. Just…fuck…just let me finish inside you.”

He tried to push back in.

The door swung open.

“What is going on here?”

Mr. Diego.

Michael yanked out so fast I gasped at the sudden emptiness.

He stumbled back, scrambling for his boxers, trousers, anything. He didn't even look at me, not once.

For a frozen heartbeat, I just stood there, legs trembling, completely naked watching the boy who’d just taken my virginity bolt like a startled animal.

“Michael?” My voice cracked. “Michael, what are you doing?”

He snatched his shirt off the floor and didn’t bother buttoning it. “What does it look like I’m doing? See you later, babes. I’m out.”

And he was gone.

The door banged shut behind him.

Leaving me alone in the red emergency glow with Vice-Chancellor Wills’ right-hand man and new lecturer, the man who could end my scholarship with one phone call.

I’d never felt so stupid in my entire life.

There was nothing to cover myself with. My phone, my panties, Michael had shoved them all into his pockets when he ran.

My gown… I couldn’t even see where he’d flung it in the dark.

Then fabric fluttered in front of my face.

“Looking for this?”

My eyes snapped up.

Mr. Diego stood maybe five feet away, suit jacket still perfectly buttoned, tie straight, expression unreadable except for the faint, dangerous curl at the corner of his mouth.

I swallowed. “How… how did you get that?”

“Apparently your boyfriend flung it in my face while he was sprinting past me in the hallway.” He tilted his head. “Quite the exit.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said quietly, “to know you know how to fuck a man so well… even though this was your first time.”

My stomach dropped.

I dropped to my knees before I could think better of it, the cold tile biting into my skin.

“Please, sir.” My voice shook. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t report me to the Vice-Chancellor. I need the Éclat Couture Scholarship. It’s my life!” Please. I’ll do anything you want. Just… don’t jeopardize my chances. I’m begging you.”

Then he stepped closer.

“Anything?” he repeated, voice low, almost gentle.

I nodded frantically, tears stinging my eyes.

He reached down and unbuckled his belt. The metal clinked softly, his trousers opened and His cock sprang out thick, veiny, and already half-hard and intimidating in a way Michael never was.

He wrapped one hand around the base and tilted my chin up with the other so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Then suck me off, Miss Brooks.”