Sofia Pov
I feel my cheeks heat up. Why would he say something like that? I try to ignore his large finger grazing my chin. "Suck my cock, Sofia Carson, and I’ll let this slide." My jaw must be on the floor right now. Suck off Professor Lucien? Damn. I almost clamp my thighs together as they respond to his dirty words, sending sensational tingling straight through my lower region. I guess my body didn’t care that this was my professor. I close my eyes, trying to maintain my cool. Hell, I wasn’t a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I’m a slut. I won’t suck off my professor. My first sexual encounter wasn’t even memorable—it was with my high school sweetheart, and I didn’t have the urge after that. Just pain. No pleasure. My phone dings. My eyes dart to it. Anything to get my mind off this sick game he’s playing. He drops his hand from my chin, giving me a chance to suck in a shallow breath. “Your friends are getting scared. You might need to hurry up with your decision,” he smirks. Something snaps inside me. This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never found him attractive. Never. It’s never crossed my mind. I’m not one of those girls who has a thing for older guys. “I don’t have all day, Sofia Carson.” Of course he doesn’t. Did he treat the other girls like this? I roll my eyes. He didn’t. They always wanted his attention. He ignored them. Cold. Unbothered. “Why?” I ask. He chuckles. “Why what, Sofia?” Even the way he says my name. No one says it like that. So perfect. Like he owns it. The way he drags the “i”... it sticks in my head. Striding off the desk, he takes a step toward me. Stunned, I move back. His eyes glisten, like a wild beast coming after his prey and enjoying every moment of it. He stops right in front of me. I can only keep my eyes down on his shoes. "Why what, Sofia Carson?" He squats down, tilting my head so I'm looking at him. I move my gaze away, but it only lands on his chest. Jesus. This man is fit. He probably lives in a gym. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Controlling, domineering freak of a professor. But somehow my eyes manage to snap up to his face. "Good girl." More breaths fan my face. Did he just call me a good girl? I shudder as his large thumb grazes my lips. He holds my gaze—waiting. The silence stretches, heavy and thick. My heart pounds in my ears, fists clenched tight at my sides, trembling despite myself. His black eyes stare into mine and just like a trance, my lips part, and unbelievably, words fly out: "Why do you want me to suck your cock." * * * Minutes later, I lean against the railing outside the staff building to catch my breath. I catch my disheveled appearance in the window—flushed cheeks and an agitated expression. "Sofia! Are you okay?" I turn to see Mia and Kiera hurrying over. Mia touches my neck, and Kiera looks closely at my face. "What happened in there?" Kiera asks. I shudder, still trying to steady my breathing. "Nothing. I need to go home." "Sofia, you can't just shut us out. Talk to us," Mia insists, but right now her voice is like an annoying alarm clock. "Mia is right. It all happened so fast—we only realized there was another door inside the meeting hall," Kiera adds. I grab my bag from Mia. "I'll see you girls tomorrow." Mia holds onto the bag, refusing to let go. "We’re friends, Sofia. We planned this together. Let’s face the punishment together." Kiera nods in agreement. If only it were that easy. "We'll talk tomorrow, Mia. I just need to clear my head." I tug my bag again. This time, Mia lets go, and I walk off. "What do you think happened in there? She looks startled," I hear Kiera say. "I don't know," Mia replies. I keep walking, their voices growing distant. "I think we shouldn't leave her alone," Mia whispers. "Just give her space first." All I want is to head back home and cool off, probably sleep until my head calms. I keep walking until I’m out of the college gates. Absentmindedly, I flag down a cab and slump into the backseat, barely aware of the ride. The moment I step into the house, Grandma Tessa’s voice meets me like a gust of wind. “Why are you back so early?” She’s in her usual spot, knitting a sweater—her way of passing time. The faint clack of needles fills the silence that follows. I manage a weak smile as I walk over and hug her. Her familiar scent—lavender and old yarn—grounds me for a second. “How have you been, Grandma?” “Get off me, you sneaky girl.” She squints at me, not pausing her hands. “What have you done that you’re trying to act all cute and sweet?” I almost chuckle. She knows me too well. Her eyes narrow. I drop onto the couch beside her, stretching out with a sigh. “Oh my God,” she says suddenly, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” “Gosh, no!” I half-laugh, half-groan. “Worse, right?” That makes me flinch, just a little. I can't tell her the truth. Hello Grandma Tessa, I’m going to fail my literature assessment because I didn’t prepare, so I tried to steal the answers booklet and got caught by my professor. He wasn’t particularly pleased. She would have a heart attack. “Nothing, Grandma,” I lie smoothly. “I was having some waist pain, so I decided to come home and rest.” Her eyes stay on mine, unblinking. I shift under the gaze. “Ooh! I don’t believe you, sneaky girl.” “Ouch.” I exaggerate a wince and get to my feet. Her expression changes immediately—from suspicion to concern. “You’re being serious? Did you fall?” The worry in her voice hits me harder than I expect. I look away, trying not to crumble under the guilt. I just lied to her face. Before I can say anything, she sighs and sets down her knitting. “I didn’t want to upset you, but—” Grandma Tessa mutters, wiping her hands on her apron. “Your mother called.” My heart skips a bit. I sit back slowly. “She wasn’t pleased with your last semester’s performance.” Grandma skillfully avoids my gaze. “If you don’t perform well, you’ll have to go back and live with her.” “What!” The words come out a bit too panicked. “She can’t do that—” “She can.” Grandma’s eyes meet mine—pitiful, and sad. “She’s still your mother and legal guardian.” “I’m an adult—about to turn 21.” My chest tightens. I stare at the carpet like the answers are imprinted there. “She thinks I’m being too soft with you,” Grandma adds. I want to scream. Or cry. Or laugh. If only I was a bit serious... Living with my mom is hell. Nothing is ever good enough for her. Your hair isn’t done properly. Your makeup’s not right. Your outfit’s bad. The table isn’t set well. The list is endless. Dad ran off. Because of her. “But if you can ace the exams, I’m sure we won’t have to worry about you leaving me here all alone.” She hopes. But I know there’s no way I could ace the exams. Grandma watches me—waiting for me to say something. Maybe a little assurance. But I can’t lie to her again. “Grandma...” I whisper. “I’ll be in my room.” She doesn’t say anything as I head into the adjoining room, not glancing back until I shut the door behind me. I let out a sigh, sliding down to the floor, my back resting against the door. Pass the assessment... or go back to my motherSOFIA’S POV “I…” The noise fades. The voices vanish. And I’m back there. Professor Lucien’s kitchen— My legs swing from his marble counter, the cold biting through my thin skirt. His jacket is still draped over my shoulders, like I hadn’t stopped him from claiming me. He stands a breath away. Sleeves rolled. Collar loose. Two top buttons undone—like temptation. His fingers curl around a glass he never drinks from. Not really… Because his eyes are drinking me in instead. “Sofia…” He says my name like a man who’s just repented… but is about to sin again. Hungry. Regretful. Low. Raspy. His gaze dips to my bare thighs— then lingers on my lips. “Sofia…” I jolt. The world slams back in. Cheering. Buzzing voices. Lights. Movement. Keira leans in, her smile too tight. “You’re taking too long.” I blink. The noise prickles my skin. Holy shit. I just zoned out. Not to nowhere— there. Back to his kitchen. Back to him. I force my eyes
Sofia's Pov “Titanic, Titanic, Titanic!” Our section roars, the chant pulsing through the air like a heartbeat. Banners wave, hands clap, the whole bleacher sways with energy. Our section is on fire. "Go Titanic boys!" Mia yells again, punching the air. "Make us proud, pretty boy!" "GO LEO! BREAK SOME RIBS—wait, not like that!" she adds, and I snort. Kiera eyes her from the corner of her mouth. "You break that chair and you’re paying for it." Mia flips her hair like a diva. "Relax. It's barely wobbling—OH!" The chair tips and Mia flails before catching her balance. “See? Fine.” Kiera just sighs. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” “You guys should cheer!” Mia huffs. “If this ends in a draw, they’ll go to penalties. Do you want to watch Elijah take a shot and miss?” Kiera shrugs. “I kind of do. He’s so dramatic. He’ll probably cry on the field and still look hot doing it.” My mouth opens. “He’s not that dramatic—” They both freeze. So do I. Damn it.
Sofia's Pov I slam the door behind me, chest heaving. Darkness wraps around me. When did it get this late? I fumble for my phone, heart thudding as the screen lights up. 7:03 PM. Shit. A wall of notifications floods the screen—missed calls from Mia, Kiera… even Grandma. Twelve in total. My stomach knots. I’m so screwed. I order a ride and just as I'm about to breathe, a notification pings. “Pick-up point set to estate entrance. Taxis are not allowed inside.” Of course. “Ugh, seriously?” I curse under my breath, shoving my phone into my bag. I start walking fast, the shadows stretching as I pass, cold air biting at my arms. Why does this night keep getting worse? I jog, the wind whipping across my face, stinging my eyes. My heart’s racing, my fingers won’t stop trembling. It takes over ten minutes—ten long, breathless minutes—before I finally round the corner and spot a taxi idling just past the gate. I slow down, walk past the estate entrance, and slide
Lucien's Pov She is bent over the textbook again, underlining something softly, her lips moving as she reads aloud to herself — almost like a whisper meant only for the page. She doesn’t even notice I haven’t said anything in a while. I rub the back of my neck. I’ve been watching too long. I push back my chair and stand. “I need a drink,” I mutter, already heading for the kitchen. “Water, please,” she calls, like we do this often. Like she belongs here. I open the fridge, grip the edge of the door. The cold bottle cools my palm, but my throat still feels dry. I twist open the bottle and take a swig. The cold rush helps. Sort of. Footsteps pad behind me. “Is that juice?” she asks, voice soft, curious. I turn halfway. She’s leaning on the doorframe now, eyes on the bottle. Barefoot. Comfortable. "It’s water. Let me get you one." I pull the freezer door open, the cool air washing over my skin as I reach in. Bottles clink. I grab one, condensation already slick across the s
Lucien's Pov My phone buzzes as I hit the third step. "Michael," I mutter, sliding over the green icon without slowing down. His voice comes in too bright. “Hey man! Just checking if you’ve started on the designs.” Of course he is. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ll call you when I’m done.” I say flatly, ending the call before he can start rambling. I toss the phone onto the bed. By the time I reach the bathroom, my head’s already pounding. I shut my eyes under the spray, letting the water slam into me, hard and cold. Maybe it’ll knock some sense back in. Maybe it won’t. I yank off my shirt, the fabric dragging across my skin like a tease I didn’t ask for. My pants follow, and the friction—God—my body reacts before I can stop it. A groan slips out, uninvited. “Arrgh… Sofia.” Her name scrapes out of me before I can swallow it back. I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lower lip. That’s her move—exactly how she does it. She gnaws on it until it turns pink and sw
Sofia's Pov “Your fiancée.”I blink.Just that. Blink. Like that word didn’t just gut me like a blade in silk.I turn to the window.The trees blur past.My reflection stares back—lips parted like an idiot. Eyes wide like I didn’t already know men like him come wrapped in red flags and designer charm.He has a fiancée.And here I was — falling apart in dressing rooms, letting him pull the curtain closed like we were the only two people in the world.God.I press my palm to my chest, but the ache stays. Heavy. Sharp. Like guilt that doesn’t belong to me.So he has a fiancée… and still looked at me like that?Still bought me clothes, still watched me in mirrors, still leaned in like he wanted to kiss me stupid.What a jerk.A beautiful, controlled, maddening jerk.My throat burns, but I don’t let it show.I won’t give him the satisfaction.Not even a flinch.I cross my legs. “Sounds serious,” I say, voice too even — like I didn’t just feel something twist behind my ribs.He doesn’t ans