Chapter 10: Teasing The Words Out Of Your Lips

Lucien Pov.

The pain doesn’t go away. So I drown it in drinks—chasing solace at the bottom of every glass. But it only buys me a blinding headache and the relentless buzz of my damn phone.

I barely remember stumbling in. My mouth tastes like whiskey, and my skull’s trying to split in two.

Groaning, I slide out of bed and reach for my phone, desperate to silence the noise. The screen lights up: Nathaniel Graves. Vice President for Academic Affairs

Why the hell is Nathaniel Graves calling me this early?

I let the phone ring once before answering.

“Drake,” Graves snaps.

I don’t speak. Just wait for him to continue.

“There are photos of you circulating,” he continues. “On the student forum. You’re clearly drunk. Shirt unbuttoned.”

Shit. Who the hell took that picture—and why?

Graves sighs. “This is bad for our college reputation, and I don't want parents complaining. Get down here immediately.”

Click.

He hangs up.

I sit there for a moment. Head pounding. The last few hours are a blur. I can remember a girl, and maybe Michael.

Dismissing the thoughts, I make a hungover soup before heading into the shower to clean up.

I throw on a shirt and sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes.

By the time I pull into college, several students have already arrived. As I head into the hallway, they whisper. I ignore them and head straight to meet Mr. Graves.

Stepping into his office,I freeze at the door. Miranda’s practically suffocating him with her lips.

Miranda pulls away, her lipstick smeared all over her husband’s face.

“Lucien, I didn’t hear you come in,” her annoying voice dances into my eardrums.

The poor man—barking orders one minute, getting mauled by his wife the next. More reason to stay away from a woman way younger than you are. Professor Nathaniel is already in his early sixties, while his wife Miranda is still in her forties.

My stomach tightens. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s because I know I’m no better when it comes to Sofia. It would never work out. In my haste, I forgot to bring her phone.

“Gosh, my makeup is ruined,” Miranda says, playing with her husband’s tie as he adjusts his appearance—her eyes staring directly into mine.

“You look breathtaking as always. I’ll get you that bag,” he says.

“Really?”

I force my eyeballs from rolling. This respectful man, getting manipulated by her. She’s only after his money.

“Thanks, honey.”

She finally lets go of him and strolls toward the door, her eyes lingering.

“Professor Lucien, you’ve become quite the sensation.”

Nathaniel chuckles. “You should’ve seen the way college girls were drooling earlier.”

College girls. Sofia.

Did she drool?

I can imagine those bright eyes, acting nonchalant while the others stare.

“I can imagine,” Miranda says. Seriously—looking at me like that with her husband right there?

“We rescheduled your test.”

“Wait, what? Without my consent?”

Rage bubbles through me at Miranda’s words.

“We had to contain the situation you created first,” Nathaniel chuckles again.

I bite back my words. Maybe I’m just angry that Nathaniel can’t be professional when Miranda is around.

Miranda raises a brow at me. A challenging look.

Puff all you want, Miranda. Doesn’t make you attractive to me.

While waiting for her to leave, I pull out my phone to stay busy. Her perfume chokes me, forcing me to turn away.

“Lucien, take a seat,” Nathaniel finally says.

“Miranda, close the door behind you.”

I breathe out as he finally dismisses her.

“Sit,” he says again as the door clicks shut.

I don’t.

He slides a printout toward me. “Care to explain?”

I look at it. A photo of me at the club yesterday.

“Guess someone’s got a good camera,” I mutter.

“This isn’t funny, Drake.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

He stands. “You’re a respected lecturer. You have tenure. Students look up to you. What they don’t need is a role model who ends up trending on forums looking like a rockstar coming out of rehab.”

I smirk. “Sounds like good PR to me.”

“Lucien,” he growls. “This is a warning. And if I find out who you were with—if that person’s a student—you’re out.”

I meet his eyes. “I don’t sleep with students.”

“Then you better pray whoever took this picture wasn’t one.”

“And how is that my problem? I have a personal life too.”

He smirks now. “Of course you do. Clearly.”

He picks up his phone, dials someone, then covers the receiver.

“You’re free to go. For now.”

I leave without a word. My head’s clearer now.

But I’ve got one mission ringing in the back of my skull:

Find who took the picture.

And if it’s someone playing games?

They’ll wish they’d never touched that camera.

I head back to my office. The nightclub yesterday is really private.

I'm hoping Michael has nothing to do with this—or he wouldn't like me.

Footsteps.

Someone is following me.

I glance, only to see Sofia. She looks good, as always, in her flimsy dress.

Probably wants to know if I’ll report her to the Disciplinary Committee.

I ignore her and keep walking, and she doesn’t stop following me until I unlock the door.

“Come in, Sofia.”

Anger is radiating off me in waves.

I hate getting manipulated.

Sofia clears her throat.

I look up at her.

Sofia is shifting her weight from her right foot to her left.

Taking a deep breath, I lean against my desk, gazing at her.

“Professor Lucien, uhm…”

Her cheeks are reddened, clearly not able to say the words.

Her hair is falling over her face, some strands sticking to her lips.

Nothing would please me more than to have her cornered—

Whimpering beneath me as I break her, tainting her innocence.

Claiming her till only my name remains in her brain.

“I want to know if you would be lenient to let—”

“I don’t have all day, Sofia,” I say.

Her eyes widen.

If her cheeks could explode from heating up…

Her eyes meet mine, but turn away—too fast.

“I’m sorry.”

She seems shaken. “I want to beg you not to report me to the Disciplinary Committee for sneaking into your office.”

I raise a brow. “Just sneaking?”

She drags in a shaky breath.

“You broke into my office. Stole answer booklets.”

She whimpers.

“I’m sorry.”

“On what grounds should I forgive you, huh?”

I was thinking she would beg—hell, I could bet my fortune she’d tear up and beg.

But as she takes a step forward, I get drawn in.

Her flimsy dress clings to her body.

That innocent gaze, wide and uncertain.

“Would you let it go if I…”

She pauses, maybe contemplating.

Her fair fingers drop on my thigh.

Fuck.

This isn’t right—but I’m hard anyway. Every brush of her fingers sends sparks to all the wrong places.

“Professor Lucien.”

She bites her lips again.

I find my eyes lingering on her mouth.

Lips that are swollen from biting and chewing.

Moist and rosy.

That lust is stirring in me.

This wasn’t the plan.

The plan is simple:

Focus on what Camilla would want.

Make her understand her mistakes.

Then forgive her.

But feeling her fingers sending warm currents through my body—

I lose focus.

“Professor Lucien.”

Her voice breaks slightly.

I look away, stare at the wall, anything but her.

My pants are tight—too tight.

“Would you let it go if I agree to…”

My imagination runs wild—her voice breathy, calling me that in a moment we’d both regret.

Her voice falters. Her gaze dips to my chest.

I wait, keeping a neutral face. Curious. Cruel.

She can’t say it.

I’ll tease it out. Then let her go.

“Agree to what, Sofia?”

She swallows hard. Bites her lip.

Then something shifts.

Her eyes ignite with fire. Defiance burns in them.

“Fine,” she snaps. “You want a blowjob? Will that make you let it go?”