Chapter two- Seducing Professor Winsley

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The drive back to my private hostel felt like forever. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white.

Andrena and Christiana sat quietly in the back, stealing glances at each other like they were scared to speak. I hated that look. It made me feel small.

By the time I reached my room, the video of Professor Winsley throwing me out of the class was already trending on the university’s W******p groups and I*******m stories. Comments flooded in:

“Queen Josephine finally met her match.”

“Sweet Poison got poisoned today!”

“Maradona’s daughter crying like a baby…”

Each comment felt like a knife to my chest.

I tossed my phone across the bed and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My makeup was smudged from crying, but my body still looked perfect. Full breasts straining against the white blouse, long legs that could make any man weak, and curves that had destroyed careers before.

“No one humiliates Josephine Maradona and walks away free,” I whispered to my reflection. “Not even you, Professor Winsley Dampson.”

I changed quickly. I swapped the short plaid skirt for an even shorter one and let my off-shoulder white blouse slip lower on one shoulder. I touched up my makeup, making my lips glossy and my eyes smoky. Perfect bait.

“Andrena, Christiana — we’re going to his office after his next lecture,” I announced, grabbing my bag. “Time to remind him who runs this campus.”

Two hours later, I stood outside Professor Winsley’s office door. My heart pounded with rage and strange excitement. The hallway was quiet. I took a deep breath, pushed the door open without knocking, and stepped inside.

Professor Winsley sat in a brown leather chair, reviewing papers. His white shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, showing a glimpse of his hard chest and the edge of dark tattoos. Black-rimmed glasses rested on his nose.

He looked up slowly. His dark eyes narrowed the moment they landed on me. He quickly buttoned up his shirt before speaking.

“Little bird,” he snarled. “The last time I checked, I don’t deserve an office visit.” He mumbled, opening a lollipop as he focused on his laptop.

I closed the door behind me with a soft click and walked toward him, swaying my hips deliberately. My short skirt rode up as I moved, but I didn’t pull it down.

“I came to settle some scores with you,” I hissed, taking a chew gum out of my boobs and throwing it into my mouth.

He leaned back in his chair, watching me with that same unbothered intensity. “There’s nothing to discuss. Your behavior today was unacceptable.

Leave.”

Instead of leaving, I rounded the desk and boldly perched on the edge. I crossed my legs so the skirt hiked even higher. I leaned forward, letting my long dark hair fall over one shoulder, and traced a finger along the open collar of his shirt. I brushed his warm skin and unbuttoned one of his buttons.

“Come on, Professor,” I whispered, my voice dropping into the sweet, dangerous tone that had worked on every man before him. “You don’t have to be so strict with me. I can make it worth your while.”

I slid off the desk and moved closer, positioning myself between his spread knees.

Slowly, I reached up and pressed my index finger gently against his lips in a teasing “shh” gesture. My face was inches from his.

“Forget what happened today. No one has to know. Just… let me take care of you, Professor Winsley.”

For a moment, everything was silent except for the faint ticking of the wall clock and the sound of my own heartbeat.

His gaze darkened. I could feel the heat from his body. My finger lingered on his lips, waiting for him to crack — to pull me onto his lap, to give in like all the others.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his large, warm hand closed around my wrist — firm but not painful — and slowly pulled my finger away from his mouth. His other hand moved to my hip, holding me in place so I couldn’t press any closer.

“Little bird,” he mumbled. His deep voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.” He smirked.

I searched his eyes for lust, for weakness, for anything I could use. What I found was a quiet, burning intensity that made my stomach flutter in a way I wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t panting. He wasn’t begging.

For the first time, a tiny crack of doubt slipped into my confidence.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Don’t you want to fuck me so hard?”

His grip on my wrist tightened.

My heart skipped again. I pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. His hand was still on my hip — possessive and full of control.

Professor Winsley wasn’t looking at me like his prey, the way other men does.

He was looking at me like an elder brother who would beat up his younger sister for acting out of character.

He grabbed me by the waist, carried me, kicked his door violently, and threw me out of his office like trash. I groaned as I crashed on the ground.

“The next time you try this shit in my office, I will slap you so hard that you might go crazy,” he warned.

“Winsley…” I called in pain.

“Professor Winsley Dampson,” he snarled, going back in and shutting the door.

My head exploded and my legs started shaking.

Andrena and Christiana ran to pull me up, but I didn’t move. I was in shock.

Water rushed down my eyes like a tap.

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