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Chapter 31
Veröffentlichungsdatum:
19.07.2026 23:52:09
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My Professor is A Mafia Chapter 39
The pressure had been building for days, each evening session tighter than the last, each deliberate touch under the desk leaving me more frayed and desperate. By the time I walked into his office that night, wearing the short black skirt and low-cut top he had required, I was already on edge. My body felt too hot, too aware. Every shift of fabric against my skin reminded me of his hands. Damien was seated behind the desk as usual, calm, controlled, watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes. He didn’t speak at first. He simply pointed to the chair.I sat and opened the folder, I tried to work.His hand found my thigh within minutes, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise, then dragging slowly upward until they brushed the damp edge of my underwear. He stopped there, as always, and left me aching. “Still so responsive,” he murmured. “ What does that say about you, Ava?”Something inside me finally snapped.I shoved the chair back so hard it scraped loudly against the floor. Paper
My Professor is A Mafia Chapter 38
The email arrived at 6:12 a.m. the next morning.Subject: Research Attire RequirementsMiss Blake,For the remaining duration of the independent project, you will adhere to the following dress code during evening sessions:- Skirts no longer than mid-thigh- Tops with a neckline no higher than two inches below the collarboneThis is non-negotiable. Failure to comply will result in an automatic reduction of the project grade.Professor D. ValeI stared at the screen until the words blurred. He was doing this on purpose. He was forcing me to dress exactly the way he had accused me of dressing before, and then he would punish me for it. I showed up that evening in the shortest black skirt I owned and a soft grey top that dipped just low enough to show the beginning of my cleavage. My hands were shaking when I knocked. He was standing by the window when I entered. He turned slowly, eyes dragging over me from the hem of the skirt up to the neckline of the top. Something dark and satisfied
My Professor is A Mafia Chapter 37
The evenings had started blending into one long, aching stretch of tension. By the fourth night I walked into Damien’s office with my heart already racing, my body already half-aware of what was coming. I had stopped wearing anything remotely revealing. Tonight it was a simple white blouse buttoned all the way up and dark jeans, armor. It didn’t help. He was already seated when I entered, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable. He didn’t look up from the papers in front of him. “Sit. Same as always.”I sat. Opened my folder, tried to work.For the first forty minutes he barely spoke. He only watched. Every time I shifted, every time I crossed my legs or adjusted my posture, I felt his attention sharpen like a blade. The silence was worse than the accusations. It left too much room for the memory of his voice forcing confessions out of me, for the way my body had reacted to every cruel, precise reminder of what I had done. I was mid-sentence on a market analysis when I heard the soft
My Professor is A Mafia Chapter 36
The silence in the office had become unbearable. I kept my eyes fixed on the research papers in front of me, but the words had long since stopped making sense. Every time I shifted even slightly in the chair, I felt Damien’s gaze sharpen. He hadn’t looked away once since I sat down. The weight of it was starting to feel like hands on my skin. He spoke without warning, voice low and deliberate. “You wore that skirt the day you carried my books.”My head snapped up. Heat flooded my face so fast it made me dizzy. Damien’s expression was cold, almost clinical, but his eyes were dark. “The really short one. The one that barely covered the tops of your thighs when you bent down to pick up the papers that fell. You knew exactly how short it was. You wanted me to look.” “I didn’t…..” “Say it.”The command was quiet, but it landed like a whip. I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the pen until my knuckles ached. “I… I wore a short skirt that day,” I whispered. “And you
My Professor is A Mafia Chapter 35
I stood outside Professor Damien Vale’s office at exactly 6:58 p.m., heart slamming so hard against my ribs I was sure the entire faculty building could hear it. My palms were damp. I had changed three times before leaving the dorm, finally settling on jeans and a plain black long-sleeve top that covered everything. There was no short skirts or deep necklines. Nothing he could accuse me of. I knocked once. “Come in.” His voice was colder than I had ever heard it. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The office felt smaller than usual. The blinds were half-drawn, the desk lamp casting a pool of warm light that somehow made the shadows around us darker. Damien sat behind his desk in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, watching me like a predator that had finally trapped something it had been hunting for weeks. He didn’t invite me to sit. He just stared. I cleared my throat. “Professor, about the email…” “Sit.” The single word was sharp enough t
My Professor is A Mafia Chapter 34
I woke up to the kind of headache that felt like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of my skull. Sunlight stabbed through the thin dorm curtains, and for a second I didn’t remember why everything hurt. Then I licked my lips and tasted the faint, lingering ghost of him.My fingers flew to my mouth. Swollen. Sensitive. Still slightly bruised from the force of that kiss. The memory slammed into me so hard I rolled onto my side and pressed my face into the pillow, a low, mortified sound escaping my throat. I had kissed Professor Damien Vale.I had kissed him while drunk, in a plunging emerald gown, on the terrace of the Founder’s Week masquerade. And for three perfect, terrifying seconds he had kissed me back hard, hungry, like he’d been starving for it before he shoved me away and told me never to do it again. Shame and longing twisted together until my stomach turned. I sat up too fast, the room spinning, and pressed both hands over my face. “Stupid,” I whispered into my palms.
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