The Ex’s Regret: She Returned to Her New Billionaire Husband

"Face the class while you ride my fingers, little bunny."

His voice was a dark growl against my ear, his hot breath fanning the left side of my face. I clenched around his fingers involuntarily, my hips rolling in slow, desperate circles as the classroom blurred in front of me.

My nipples pressed taut against my sheer white blouse, sweat making the fabric cling like a second skin. 

Every camera flash from the students below felt like a spotlight, and I didn't look away. He'd told me not to.

And I was pathetically, embarrassingly turned on by that alone.

Professor Vincenzo Ferraro's free hand fisted the front of my blouse, tearing it open. My breasts spilled free, heavy and flushed, the cool air tightening my nipples into stiff peaks that ached for his hands.

"Oh god… please, more…" My voice broke on the last word, my head dropping back against his shoulder as I rode his fingers faster, chasing the curl he kept pressing into me.

He groaned low and frustrated, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my back. Then his palm closed over my breast, squeezing hard before his fingers found my nipple and rolled it between them.

My breath shattered with each pinch.

"So desperate already, little bunny?" His accent thickened when he was angry or hungry. 

But right now, I couldn't tell the difference.

"Tell me what you want. Maybe today I'll give it to you." He growled in my ear.

"Yes, sir, give it to her!" A male student shouted from the front row, his phone already recording, while his other hand tucked shamelessly inside his pants.

Something filthy and electric surged through me at that. Who knew being watched and seen like this would turn me on the more.

"I want your—" I swallowed, my walls clenching around his fingers as he slowed his pace deliberately, dragging them out of me inch by inch before thrusting them back in. "I want you inside me. All the way. Please, Profes—"

The pinch to my nipple was sharp and sudden, cutting me off. Pain cracked through the pleasure like lightning.

"Don't." His voice dropped to something dangerous. "You do not call me that here."

"I'm sorry," My hips rolled pleadingly. "Daddy. Please, daddy…"

"Learn your—"

"Seren!"

Everything stopped. That voice… it doesn't belong here. That was—

"Seren!!!"

Pain lanced up my arm, and I jolted upright so fast my chair scraped the floor. A wet sound left my lips. 

I'd drooled. Actually drooled.

My hand flew to my face on autopilot, smearing the evidence while my brain rebooted in slow, humiliating increments. My head whipped sideways.

I was in class. In Professor Ferraro's class, the third row from the front, and at least a dozen pairs of eyes were staring at me.

I sank low in my seat and dragged my blonde hair over my face like a curtain.

Kill me. Just kill me right now.

"Oh, Seren…" Luca's voice was warm and entirely too amused against my ear, his breath brushing the shell of it in a way that sent a stupid, traitorous pulse straight between my thighs.

"I snuck in to return your notes and found you moaning. Quite loud this time, little bird."

I groaned, sinking deeper into my chair.

"'Oh daddy, yes daddy,'" he mimicked in a breathy voice.

"Luca, I will end you," I hissed, grabbing my bag and bolting for the door the moment the bell rang. I made it approximately four steps into the hallway before a long arm swung across my shoulders.

"You know," he said casually, matching my stride with his annoyingly long legs, "I could help with that. Whatever's got you that worked up in a lecture hall—"

"Absolutely not." I cut him off, shrugging his hands away from my shoulders, but he placed them back.

"Seren—"

"Luca. No."

He laughed, low and easy, before pulling me closer to his chest. Then, without warning, he stepped in front of me and walked me backward into the wall, his bag dropping to the floor, and his hand lifting to tuck my hair behind my ear.

This should be his 1,299th attempt at seducing me. I'd stopped counting after 1,000, but here we are.

The hallway had emptied within minutes. Of course it had.

"I've thought about it," he murmured, his hand trailing slowly up my waist. "How you'd feel. How you'd sound for real."

"Luca—" I warned, but he pulled me flush against him suddenly, and I gasped at the contact, at the unmistakable pressure of his bulge against my hip.

My teeth found my lower lip, biting hard.

I was already wet from the dream. Completely wound up and aching, and he knew it, the bastard, he always knew, he just never had ammunition this good before.

His mouth found my neck, placing soft, slow kisses one after another into my skin, and my head tilted back before I could stop it, and I let out a breathy exhale.

His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my skirt, slipping past the edge of my panties, and when he touched my clit I forgot every reason I'd ever had to say no.

"Mmm —" The sound left me before I could swallow it, my back arching off the wall.

"Who did this to you?" he breathed against my throat, rubbing slow circles that made my legs shake. 

"Who got you this soaked, Seren?"

His fingers pressed deeper, teasing my entrance without entering, and I was two seconds from grabbing his wrist and forcing him to move when—

"What are you two doing?"

Shit.

That voice. That deep, husky, accented, and devastating voice.

I shoved Luca back so fast I nearly fell, yanking my skirt straight with trembling hands, my face burning from my throat to my hairline.

At the far end of the hallway, Professor Vincenzo Ferraro stood with his arms at his sides and his expression completely, terrifyingly blank.

His dark eyes moved from Luca to me, and something shifted in them. Something that made my stomach drop.

"I ask again." His voice came out lower this time. Rougher. "What the fuck were you two doing?”