On My Professor's Desk

The sound of heartbreak wasn’t a sob. It was the slow, sickening ping of a text message that shattered Ava Sterling’s world.Louis: It was just a bet, babe. Chill.That was it. No guilt. No denial. No shame.Just the cold truth — that their entire relationship, every stolen kiss, every whispered promise — was a game. A bet. A sick dare between Louis and his frat boy friends to see who could take “the icy virgin” down first.And he won.Ava stared at her phone in disbelief, her hands shaking, her stomach hollow. Rage boiled beneath her ribs, but the tears never came. She refused to give Louis that satisfaction.“We’re going out,” Camille said firmly, pulling the phone from Ava’s hand. “You’re not crying over that dickhead. You’re dancing.”---The club was dark, loud, and pulsing with energy — the perfect place to drown out betrayal in bass drops and cheap tequila.Ava let Camille drag her into the chaos, the lights flashing across their skin, the music pounding against her chest lik

Ava Sterling stared at the paper in her hands like it had personally insulted her."C+"Written in red ink, underlined twice — as if he wanted to rub it in.Her heart dropped.She flipped through the pages again, eyes scanning the margins, searching for harsh notes or critical feedback — but there was barely any. Just that one, clipped comment at the top:“Surface-level analysis. Expected more.” — Dr. W. ReidHer jaw clenched.She had expected more too. Her work was good — thoughtful, well-structured, insightful. She’d spent hours crafting that essay. There was no way in hell it deserved a C. Unless...Unless this wasn’t about the work at all.This must be about: The slap. The stare-down. The refusal to apologize. The flirtation. The fact that she she showed no fear in his office and had walked away with her chin up.Petty bastard.Handsome, but very petty.Her stomach churned as she checked the grading weight for that assignment: 25% of the final grade.This could cost her her scho

Ava Sterling sat at the front of the class the following week.Not because she cared about the lecture — she barely registered the words coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth — but because today, she was playing a different kind of game.She had worn a short skirt. Not trashy. Just short enough. No tights. No panties. No shame.And as he walked back and forth in front of the chalkboard, she let her legs slowly part beneath the desk. Just enough for him to see. Just enough to bait him.At first, he didn’t look.He was composed, as always. Lecturing on tragic flaws in literature. But then — a flicker. A pause in his sentence. A glance too long.She caught it.His eyes dipped, just for a second, right between her thighs. His jaw tightened.And when his gaze snapped back to her face — her smile was already waiting.Got you.From the back of the room, Camille leaned forward, nudging her with her pen and mouthing, “What the hell was that?”Ava just smirked and turned back to the board.She d

The classroom buzzed with idle chatter as students trickled in, some flipping through notes, others tapping on their phones. Ava sat near the window, her notebook open but untouched. Her mind, as usual, was elsewhere — specifically, on Room 314 and the man who occupied it.“Okay, spill,” Camille said, sliding into the seat beside her, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks now.”Ava blinked, forcing a neutral smile. “Weird how?”Camille leaned in, whispering. “You barely hang out anymore, and you’ve been visiting Dr. Reid’s office like it’s a second home. What’s going on?”Ava’s heart skipped. Her fingers tightened around her pen.“Cam, it’s nothing— I just… I’m struggling in his class, okay? I’m trying not to lose my scholarship.” Her voice was low, rushed, laced with enough anxiety to sell the lie. “He’s been helping.”Camille stared for a second longer, like she wanted to push further. But before she could respond, the door opened.Dr. William Reid ent

Dr. Reid's breath hitched — sharp, ragged — but he didn’t stop her. He only sat there, body taut, eyes locked on her like she was both salvation and ruin.“Ava…” His voice was gravel, warning and plea tangled together.She looked up at him, lips brushing his stomach as her hand stroked him slowly, deliberately. “Say it,” she whispered. “Say you want me.”His jaw flexed. He squeezed the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked, fighting himself, fighting her. But when she tightened her grip and stroked harder, the battle cracked.“Christ,” he muttered, shoving the seat back. His hand shot to her hair, fingers fisting in the silk strands as he guided her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”Ava’s smile was wicked. She leaned down and took him into her mouth, inch by inch, until his hiss of pleasure filled the car. The sound was intoxicating — addictive — and she wanted more.Her tongue teased him, her lips sealing tight, and the way his hips jerked told her just how close he was to