~004

TRISTAN POV

I stood outside Professor Voss’s office door for a full minute before knocking. My jaw was tight, fists clenched at my sides.

The scholarship letter had come in this morning — cold, bureaucratic, and final. “Pending review due to academic probation placed by Professor Zira Voss.”

If the board upheld it, I was done. No scholarship meant no tuition. No tuition meant I’d have to drop out and go back to the life I’d clawed my way out of. Back to nothing.

And all because she couldn’t handle the fact that the woman who’d been paying me thousands to jerk off for her on camera was now forced to look me in the eye three times a week.

I knocked twice, sharp and impatient.

“Come in.”

Her voice was steady, professional. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Zira Voss sat behind her heavy oak desk like a queen on her throne. The late afternoon light filtering through the blinds caught on her long wavy black hair, which she’d left loose today. It spilled over her shoulders and down her back, framing that infuriatingly beautiful face. The emerald green blouse she wore stretched deliciously across her full breasts, and I could see the faint outline of her bra beneath the thin fabric. Her curvy body looked sinful even when she was trying to look untouchable.

She looked up, and the moment our eyes met, the air in the room thickened.

“Mr. Vale,” she said coolly, setting her pen down. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

I closed the door behind me with a soft click and leaned against it, arms crossed over my chest. “Cut the bullshit, Professor. You know why I’m here.”

Her green eyes narrowed, but I caught the slight flare of her nostrils. Good. She wasn’t as composed as she wanted to appear.

“I assume this is about the probation,” she replied, folding her hands neatly on the desk. “If you’ve come to complain—”

“I’m not here to complain,” I cut in, pushing off the door and walking toward her desk slowly. “I’m here because if that probation stands, I lose my scholarship. And if I lose my scholarship, I’m out. Completely.”

She didn’t flinch. “Then perhaps you should have considered the consequences before treating my class like a joke.”

I let out a low, humorless laugh and stopped right in front of her desk, placing both palms flat on the wood as I leaned down. Close enough that I could smell her perfume — something expensive and faintly sweet that made my cock twitch despite how much I wanted to hate her right now.

“You and I both know this has nothing to do with my performance in class,” I said, voice low and rough. “This is about you being scared shitless that your favorite cam boy is sitting in your lecture hall every week.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, but her expression remained icy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.” I smirked, tilting my head. “You think I didn’t notice the matching mosquito bite? You think I didn’t recognize that bossy little voice when you turned your mic on during our private session the other night? ‘Faster,’ you said. Like you own me.”

Zira’s breath hitched, barely audible, but I caught it. Her full breasts rose and fell a little quicker beneath that tight blouse.

I continued, voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been tipping me thousands for months, Obsidian Queen. Watching me stroke my cock for you. Coming while you told me what a good boy I was. And now you’re trying to destroy my entire future because you can’t handle sitting across from me knowing how wet I make you.”

“Enough,” she snapped, but her voice wasn’t as steady as before.

I straightened up and rounded the desk slowly, invading her space. She stood up quickly, but there wasn’t much room to retreat. Her curvy hips bumped against the edge of the desk as I stopped barely a foot away from her.

“You humiliated me in front of the entire class,” I said quietly, eyes locked on hers. “You marked me absent when I was saving your father’s life. You put me on probation out of pure panic. And now you’re going to fix it.”

Zira lifted her chin defiantly, green eyes blazing. “It’s already out of my hands. I submitted the paperwork yesterday morning. The board will review it in three to five working days. There’s nothing I can do now.”

The words hit like ice water, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stepped closer until our bodies were almost touching. She had to tilt her head up to maintain eye contact. At 6’2”, I towered over her, and I used every inch of that height now.

“Nothing you can do?” I murmured, voice dark. “That’s funny. Because you had plenty of control when you were telling me to take my pants off and stroke myself slower for you.”

I lifted my hand and brushed a strand of her wavy black hair behind her ear, letting my fingers graze the soft skin of her neck, right over the fading red mark from the mosquito bite. She shivered.

“Tristan—” she warned, but it came out breathy.

“Say it again,” I whispered, stepping even closer so my chest nearly brushed her full breasts. “Say my name like you do when you’re alone in the dark, touching yourself while you watch me come for you.”

Her lips parted, and I could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. I slid my hand down, tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her wide hip possessively. She was soft, warm, and so fucking curvy it made my mouth water.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she breathed, but she didn’t push me away.

“No, Professor. You started this game the moment you became my highest-paying patron.” My thumb stroked slow circles on her hip, then drifted lower, teasing the edge of her pencil skirt where it hugged her thick thighs. “And now you’re terrified because the power isn’t only in your hands anymore.”

I leaned in until my lips were inches from her ear. “Tell me, Zira… Are you wet right now? Just like you get every Thursday night when I call you bossy?”

A soft, involuntary sound escaped her throat. I smiled against her hair and let my hand slide further, cupping the generous curve of her ass through her skirt, pulling her body flush against mine. She gasped as she felt how hard I already was, my thick bulge pressing insistently against her stomach.

“Feel that?” I growled softly. “That’s what you do to me every time you tip me and tell me I’m your good boy. Even when you’re busy trying to ruin my life.”

My other hand moved between us, sliding up her inner thigh, pushing the tight fabric of her skirt higher. Her skin was burning hot. I brushed my fingers against the lace edge of her panties and found them soaked.

“Fuck,” I muttered, voice rough with satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me, Professor. All that hatred and guilt, and your pussy still knows exactly who it wants.”

Zira’s breathing had turned ragged. Her green eyes were half-lidded, dark with lust. I rubbed slow, firm circles over her clit through the soaked lace, watching her lips part on a silent moan. Her thick thighs trembled as I increased the pressure, stroking her exactly how I knew she liked it from all the times she’d commanded me on camera.

“Tristan… stop—” she whimpered, but her hips rolled forward, chasing my touch.

“You don’t want me to stop,” I taunted, leaning down to brush my lips against the shell of her ear. “You want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t remember why you tried to destroy me. You want to come all over my fingers while you call me your good boy again.”

I slipped two fingers beneath the lace, sliding them through her slick folds before pushing inside her tight heat. She was so wet they sank in easily. Zira moaned, gripping my shoulders hard, her curvy body arching into me.

I pumped my fingers slowly, curling them against that spot that made her thighs shake, my thumb still working her swollen clit. Her moans grew louder, more desperate. I could feel her walls fluttering around my fingers, her orgasm building fast.

Just as her breathing turned into broken little gasps and her pussy started clenching rhythmically around me, I pulled my hand away completely.

Zira’s eyes flew open in shock and frustration. Her face was flushed, lips swollen, chest heaving. She looked seconds away from coming undone.

I brought my glistening fingers to my mouth and slowly licked them clean, holding her gaze the entire time.

“Mmm. Just as sweet as I imagined.”

She stood there trembling, thighs pressed together, clearly aching and empty.

I stepped back, adjusting my painfully hard cock in my jeans with zero shame.

“Three to five working days,” I said coldly, voice back to controlled steel. “You have that long to make this right, Professor Voss. Because if I lose everything because you’re too much of a coward to deal with how badly you want to be fucked by your own student… then I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who Obsidian Queen really is.”

I turned toward the door, pausing with my hand on the knob.

“By the way,” I added without looking back, “next time you want to play with power, remember this feeling. Aching. Frustrated. Desperate. That’s exactly how I feel every single day now because of you.”

I opened the door and walked out, leaving her standing behind her desk — flushed, wet, and painfully close to the edge with no release.

Just like me.

Only my ache wasn’t just for her body.

It was for my entire future hanging by a thread she had cut.

And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep playing her game without burning both of us to the ground.