Chapter 2

Sophia's POV

I gave my lecturer a blowjob last night and I liked it.

I know I was supposed to feel like a slut for dropping to my knees in a dark lecture hall out of sheer panic.

But not with a man like Diego Vega.

Not when he knew exactly how to use his dick to pleasure a woman’s mouth.

The way he held my head, the slow roll of his hips that let me feel every second thick inch sliding over my tongue, not to talk about the low, guttural sound he made when I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper than I thought possible.

When he finally spilled, hot, thick, flooding my mouth, I swallowed greedily like I’d been starving for it.

Afterward, he didn’t gloat, he just watched me with those dark, unreadable eyes as I fumbled back into my dress with shaking hands.

Then he shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders.

He guided me through the school’s back gate without a word and drove me home in silence.

I couldn’t sleep.

All night I kept replaying it and I still wanted more.

I wanted to crawl back to that desk and beg him to fuck my mouth again.

Instead, I fucked myself with my fingers until I came so hard I had to bite my pillow to keep from crying out his name.

By morning the guilt should’ve hit. It didn’t.

What hit was paranoia.

Everyone was staring at me the second I stepped onto campus or maybe they weren’t.

Maybe it was just that feeling you get when you know you’ve done something wrong and you’re convinced the whole world somehow found out.

My friends tried to drag me into their usual post-party debrief

“Girl, you missed the wildest hookup in the coatroom!”

But I brushed them off. I had two missions today:

One: Get my phone back from Michael and tell him he was an annoying piece of shit and last night was the worst mistake of my life.

Two: Avoid Mr. Diego at all costs. Because if I saw him again, if he looked at me the way he looked at me last night, I didn’t know what I’d do.

It took thirty minutes of searching to find Michael.

He was in the practical room, tongue down some freshman’s throat like he hadn’t just railed me against a desk less than twelve hours ago.

The nerve.

The second he saw me he shoved the girl away. “Go,” he snapped at her. She scurried out without a word.

He turned to me, all easy smiles. “Ignore that, baby. It’s not what you think. She’s a freshman. I was just telling her everything about school.”

I stared at him. “Wow. I never knew you were the school’s official counsellor now. Well, that’s your business. Give me my phone.”

“What’s with the attitude, baby?”

I scoffed so hard it hurt my throat. “So you’re honestly going to pretend you don’t know what you did wrong? You left me yesterday, naked, alone, dripping your cum down my thighs with Mr. Diego. You ran like a coward and left me to face the consequences. How could you, Michael? I thought you loved me.”

He stepped closer, hands sliding around my waist like nothing had happened. “Of course I love you, baby. It was just a spur-of-the-moment reaction. I wasn’t thinking straight. You know my father is the Vice-Chancellor…”

“And that’s exactly why you had the edge over him!” I cut in, voice rising. “You were supposed to protect me. I’m a scholarship student here. The one fighting for another scholarship. And you left me…”

“Okay, fine,” he interrupted, softer now. “I know what’s going to fix this. Let’s go for that arcade date you’ve always wanted. I’ll win you that stupid plushie…”

“Save it, Mike.” My voice cracked. “You left me when I needed you most. I just caught you kissing another girl. And you’re not even remorseful. What kind of man are you? I just want to break up with you.”

The words died in my throat.

Because suddenly his hands were ripping at my pants, yanking them down my thighs in one rough motion.

He spun me around, bent me over the nearest table, and pressed his mouth to my ear.

“But you can’t,” he whispered, hot and mean. “Because you need me to get that letter of recommendation from my dad. And you’ve got a lot to do to impress me if you want it.”

Without any foreplay but just the blunt head of him forcing inside me.

“Fuck—Michael… I’m still sore,” I gasped, fingers scrabbling at the table edge.

“But you’re still wet,” he groaned, already bottoming out with one hard thrust. “I’ll have to keep fucking you every day so this pussy gets used to my dick.”

Bold of him to assume he was the reason I was soaked.

I spent the entire night fucking myself to thoughts of Diego and how he praised me when I took him deeper.

Michael might be inside me right now, but he wasn’t the one making me clench.

We had hot sex.

In fact, I came harder than I wanted to admit because my body was still wired from last night.

But deep down, I knew the truth: I didn’t love him anymore.

The minute I got that letter of recommendation, I was breaking up with his stupid ass.

He pulled out, zipped up, and handed me my phone like it was a participation trophy. “I want to see you today. I’ll pick you up later.”

I hissed through my teeth and stormed out without answering.

I checked the time. Shit. I was already late for class.

And it was Mr. Diego’s class.

I prayed he hadn’t arrived yet so I could slip into the back row and disappear for the next two hours.

Missing class wasn’t an option because perfect attendance was non-negotiable for the Éclat Couture Scholarship.

I burst through the door, heart hammering, eyes scanning for the safest seat.

His back was to the class. He was drawing an illustration on the board.

I started tiptoeing toward the back.

“Why are you late to my class, Miss Brooks?”