All Chapters of MY PROFESSOR'S FILTHY GIRL : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Friday afternoon couldn’t come fast enough. The week had been pure torture—stolen touches in the copy room, Dominic’s low voice in her ear during meetings promising filthy things, late nights where they pushed each other right to the edge but never quite fell over it completely. Rory felt like she was walking around with a live wire under her skin, every nerve ending buzzing for him. When Dominic texted her at lunch—“Pack a bag. We’re leaving at 5. Tell your father it’s a work retreat. No arguments.”—she didn’t hesitate. She threw clothes, her laptop, and way too much lingerie into an overnight bag, her stomach flipping with nerves and excitement. The drive upstate was quiet at first, the city giving way to winding roads lined with trees just starting to turn gold. Dominic drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh, thumb stroking lazy circles that kept her constantly aware of how close his fingers were to where she needed them most. They talked about everythin

The following week dragged like nails on a chalkboard. Rory went through the motions at work—smiling at colleagues, diving deep into manuscript notes, attending meetings where Dominic sat at the head of the table looking every bit the untouchable CEO. But underneath the professional facade, the tension between them simmered hotter than ever. A brush of hands while passing papers. His foot hooking around her ankle under the table. A whispered “good girl” in the elevator that left her soaked and trembling for the rest of the afternoon. By Wednesday, they were both fraying at the edges. Dominic looked like he hadn’t slept, shadows under those stormy eyes that still burned whenever they landed on her. Rory’s dreams were filled with him—his hands, his mouth, the way he’d growled her name like a prayer and a curse all at once. The guilt from her dad’s phone call lingered, but it only seemed to fuel the fire. Forbidden fruit had never tasted sweeter, or hurt quite so much. Thursday night,

Sunday evening felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire. Rory stood on the familiar front porch of her childhood home, the scent of her mom’s roast chicken drifting through the screen door, but all she could feel was the phantom ache between her thighs from the night before. Dominic had been insatiable—hours of slow, deep lovemaking mixed with rough, desperate claiming that left bruises on her hips and love bites hidden under her clothes. Every step reminded her of him. His car pulled up behind hers. He stepped out looking unfairly composed in a casual button-down and slacks, but his eyes when they met hers told the real story: dark hunger, lingering tenderness, and the same storm of guilt she carried. “Deep breaths,” he murmured as they walked up the path together, hands carefully not touching. “We can do this.” Inside, the house was warm and chaotic in the best way. Her mom pulled her into a tight hug, then did the same to Dominic. “Dom! It’s been too long. You look wo

The blissful afterglow from their deepening emotional and physical connection didn’t last nearly as long as Rory and Dominic had hoped. The real world, with all its sharp edges and prying eyes, came crashing in faster than either of them could have anticipated. Monday morning at Voss Publishing felt different from the moment Rory stepped off the elevator. The usual hum of the office had a new undercurrent—subtle whispers in the hallways, lingering glances from colleagues who had never paid her much attention before. In the break room, Vanessa, a senior editor who had always been coldly professional, gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Special treatment seems to be paying off for you, Vale. Just be careful. Rumors have a way of spreading like wildfire around here, especially when they involve the CEO.” Rory’s stomach twisted into knots. She forced a polite laugh and changed the subject, but the seed of paranoia was firmly planted. By midday, the anxiety was eating a

The decision to face the threat head-on brought a temporary peace, but peace was a luxury they couldn’t afford for long. The very next week, the anonymous sender struck again—this time with a more direct warning. Another email to Dominic, this one including a screenshot of a draft message ready to be sent to Rory’s father with the incriminating photos attached. The demand was clear: *End it completely or I hit send. No contact. One week.* Dominic’s protective instincts went into overdrive. “We have to create distance,” he told Rory in a hushed, urgent conversation in his locked office. “Just for a little while. Until I can trace this bastard and neutralize the threat. I can’t risk your family, your career, everything you’ve worked for.” Rory’s heart shattered at the words, but she saw the logic through her tears. “I hate this,” she whispered, clinging to him. “But I trust you. Just… don’t take too long. I don’t know how to breathe without you anymore.” The separation was agony. Fo