The Professor - 4

CHAPTER 4

SERAPHINA

I couldn’t stop smiling.

I literally could not stop smiling.

I just had sex with Professor Lucien Vale. On his desk. In his office. With the door locked and my panties somewhere under his chair. My legs were still trembling.

My phone buzzed as I entered my apartment. I kicked the door shut, leaning against it for a second just to catch my breath.

It was real.

I actually fucked my professor.

“Holy shit,” I whispered to no one, laughing under my breath.

I ran straight to the bathroom, peeled off my dress, and stepped into the shower. The water hit my skin like fire. I winced at the sensitivity between my legs.

Worth it.

Every single ache was worth it.

His voice still echoed in my head.

You’re mine.

Say it.

I bit my lip and leaned against the wall as the water cascaded over me.

“goddamn,” I whispered. “What the hell is happening?”

I wrapped myself in a towel and padded into my room. Too lazy to do anything else, I threw on an oversized t-shirt—one of those college tees that hit mid-thigh—and didn’t bother with panties.

I flopped onto my bed, grabbed my phone, and ordered a pizza.

Extra cheese. Extra regret. Maybe.

I kept replaying everything that happened, heat crawling up my neck. His hands on my throat. His voice. His fingers. The way he kept going like he didn’t care who was knocking.

A knock.

I blinked.

Wait—

A real knock. On my door.

The pizza.

I scrambled up and ran barefoot to the door. I yanked it open—

“Hi—”

And froze.

It wasn’t just the delivery guy standing there. No. He was further down the hall.

Right at my keypad.

Lucien.

My professor.

My very recent fuck.

He turned slowly, his hand resting against the wall where the apartment numbers were listed.

His eyes scanned me.

Then paused.

At my bare thighs.

At the fact that I was wearing literally nothing but an oversized shirt.

“Oh,” I breathed. “Um. Professor?”

He blinked once. His lips twitched.

“Seraphina.”

I snatched the pizza from the confused delivery guy and awkwardly came out.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “I—uh—I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“You live here?” I asked.

He nodded slowly. “I moved in last week.”

I stared.

He stared back.

The hallway was quiet. The delivery guy had already retreated down the stairs.

“I—wow,” I muttered. “What are the odds?”

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets.

“I guess they’re higher than we thought.”

My heartbeat was a little too loud.

Lucien looked around, then nodded toward his door—right across from mine.

“I’m just... unpacking. Want to come in?”

My throat dried. “Right now?”

“Yeah. You already look comfortable.”

I blushed. “I didn’t know you were going to be—here.”

He smirked. “You still hungry?”

I held up the pizza box weakly. “A little.”

“Bring it.”

I followed him across the hallway, barefoot and slightly dazed. His apartment was nearly identical to mine, just reversed. It was clean, neat, already arranged with books on shelves and soft lighting. His jacket was tossed across a chair.

“Sorry,” he said, motioning vaguely. “Still getting used to the space.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said quickly, stepping inside.

He turned to me. “Make yourself at home.”

Then, like it was nothing, he walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

I stood there for a second after the door closed, staring at the spot where Professor Lucien had just disappeared.

His bedroom door.

He was showering.

Showering.

Right after telling me to “make myself at home.”

And I was standing here with no bra, no panties, no common sense.

My heart pounded like I’d run a marathon.

Don’t do it, Seraphina.

I turned toward his bedroom.

I was already doing it.

My feet moved on their own, soft against his wooden floor. I pushed open the bedroom door quietly. It wasn’t locked. Why wasn’t it locked?

His bed was made. His scent was everywhere.

I heard the water running behind the bathroom door.

Steam curled under it.

I stared.

Then bit my lip.

And pulled my shirt off over my head.

I was already wet again.

My whole body buzzed. I reached for the bathroom door and opened it slowly.

 The glass shower was fogged, but I could make out the shape of him — tall, broad shoulders, wet hair slicked back, muscles flexing as he ran his hand down his chest.

Holy shit.

I stepped in and shut the door behind me.

Then I opened the glass shower door.

He turned around.

And froze.

“What the fuck—” he breathed.

I stepped in. “Hi.”

His eyes raked down my body.

“Seraphina.” His voice dropped. “You shouldn’t—”

“Then tell me to leave.”

He didn’t.

He just stared.

I moved closer, water splashing between us. “Do you want me to leave, Professor?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t call me that.”

I smiled. “Why not?”

“Because I’m two seconds from fucking you against this wall again.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

He growled, low and dark, and the next second, his hands were on me.

He slammed me back against the shower tiles, water pouring over us as he kissed me — no, devoured me — lips crashing into mine like he was trying to erase every thought that wasn’t him.

His hands roamed everywhere — my breasts, my waist, my thighs — and then he yanked my leg up, wrapping it around his hip.

“Been thinking about this since you walked in with that damn shirt,” he hissed.

“I wasn’t wearing anything under it,” I whispered.

“I know.”

His mouth found my neck, biting down hard enough to make me gasp.

“You just let me invite you in like that?” he muttered against my skin. “Bare under your shirt? Were you hoping I’d lose control?”

“I was praying you would.”

“Fuck.”

He grabbed my ass with both hands, lifting me like I weighed nothing, and I wrapped both legs around him.

Then he pushed in.

I cried out — not just from the stretch, but the sudden, brutal pressure of it. He didn’t go slow.

Didn’t ask.

Didn’t warn.

He just gave it to me.

“You feel that?” he grunted against my shoulder.

“Y-Yes—god—”

He pounded into me, water streaming down our bodies, his muscles flexing with every brutal thrust.

“You came over here dressed like that for this, didn’t you?”

“Yes—fuck—Lucien—”

“You’re gonna take everything I give you.”

“Yes—please—”

He slammed into me again, harder.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Don’t stop—don’t stop—”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

I was clinging to him, nails digging into his back, eyes rolling back. His grunts were low, ragged, like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“Beg for it,” he muttered into my neck.

“Please—fuck me—harder—Lucien, I want it so bad—”

He let out a guttural sound and obeyed.

Then his hand slid between us and rubbed my clit.

“No mercy,” he whispered.

“Lucien—I—I’m gonna—”

“Come on my cock, Seraphina. Right now.”

I shattered.

My whole body clenched around him, eyes shut tight as I cried out his name. The orgasm hit like a wave — relentless and hot — and he didn’t stop thrusting through it.

I gasped, panting. “You’re still—fuck—you’re still hard—”

“Didn’t come yet,” he said, grinding in deeper. “You think I’m done with you?”

I whimpered.

He pulled out suddenly, and I whined at the loss.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“Face the wall. Hands up. Now.”

I obeyed, pressing my palms to the tile as he lined himself up behind me again.

Then he slammed back in.

“Lucien—fuck—”

“You said make myself at home,” he growled in my ear. “So I’m making you mine.”

He wrapped a hand around my throat, choking me lightly as he rammed into me from behind.

I moaned louder than I meant to. “Lucien—harder—don’t stop—please—”

“You like this, huh?” he whispered, biting my shoulder. “You like being fucked in the shower like a slut?”

“Yes—yes—”

“Then take it.”

He gave it to me. Over and over.

And I took it like it was the only thing I’d ever been made for.