I sat in the front row the next morning like he told me to.
The lecture hall filled slowly. Students talked and laughed and dropped bags into seats, none of them knowing that the man at the front of the room had my panties in his pocket and the taste of me still on his tongue. Elias—Professor Voss—stood behind the desk in a black shirt and dark trousers, sleeves rolled once again, expression carved into perfect professional calm. When his eyes found me they lingered for less than a second. Just long enough for heat to flood between my legs.
He began the lecture without missing a beat.
I tried to take notes. The words on the board blurred every time his voice dropped into that low, measured register that had ordered me to call him Professor while I came on his tongue. My thighs stayed pr
