Dirty Secret: Bound By My Professor's Desire

The young man practically jolted at how brazenly Silvana treated him. He had heard whispers before, tales of how wild she could become once the sheets were involved, and those rumors had lingered in the back of his mind with a mix of intrigue and caution. Yet facing the reality of it now, he found it was not such a terrible fate to serve her needs.

"As you wish, babe," he muttered before positioning himself beneath her. He parted her legs with boyish enthusiasm, wasting no time. In the same breath he tugged down the thin barrier that hid her most intimate warmth. His grin widened the moment he saw the proof of her desire glistening there. "You must really be desperate for this, huh?"

"Consider it your lucky day," Silvana replied, her tone rich with unshakable arrogance.

Hearing that was enough to make him dive in. His lips searched for her with eager devotion. Silvana’s head fell back until her gaze caught the blank ceiling above. There was always a kind of drunken pleasure in being explored, and for a moment she allowed herself to enjoy the ascent of sensation traveling through her.

His methods were not bad. In fact, they were surprisingly competent, almost sweet in how determined he was to please. But it was not the kind of touch that truly made Silvana light up. He lacked the precision, that ruthless artistry she adored. The stimulation he offered was nothing compared to what she could give herself. Still, the effort was not wasted and Silvana, in her own pragmatic way, acknowledged it.

Silvana swore that if it were Sir Leon beneath her thighs, he would know exactly what to do without a single instruction. The thought alone sent heat spiraling through her limbs. Sir Leon would not fumble. That man would know how to coax and savor every sensitive point, perhaps even offer slow tender kisses that would leave her trembling.

"Ah!" The sound tore from her lips before she could stop it, loud enough to make the young man halt his efforts.

"You liked that?" he whispered.

Instead of answering she gripped the back of his head. "Less talking. Just suck."

His voice had nearly shattered her fantasy, but once he obeyed she closed her eyes again and let the image return. In her mind it was Sir Leon who knelt there, eyes dark and focused, hands guiding her open while his practiced mouth worked her into a fever.

Another desperate moan fell from her throat. Her fingers clawed at the sides of the sofa where her body was half reclined. The wave she had been waiting for rose up with fierce determination. In her mind Sir Leon pulled back with that quiet arrogant smile that always haunted her. The imagined sight sent her tumbling over the edge. Silvana cried out and bucked beneath the pleasure. "Oh… Sir Leon."

"What did you just say?" The young man shot up from his position before she could even catch her breath.

Silvana blinked at him, irritated that reality had interrupted her victory.

"What?" she muttered.

"You just screamed someone’s name. And it definitely was not mine." His gaze had sharpened. Pride wounded and teeth clenched.

"Whose name did I say?"

"Sir Leon." The words were clipped. He watched her cheeks flush at the mention of the man. "Wait, that is the name of our profe—"

Silvana cut him off by capturing his mouth with hers. It was the fastest way to silence stupidity. The kiss melted into him quickly as his body eased and warmed under the contact.

"It is not important. So do not bring it up," she murmured against his lips.

"It is important because—"

Again he was silenced, but this time by her fingers curling around him, bold and unapologetic. His protest dissolved at once.

"You want me to put my mouth on it or not?" she asked, voice low and coaxing.

She was in a foul mood now, a storm cloud sulking behind her eyes. Men who talked too much had always grated on her nerves, especially the type who assumed their mere presence was worthy of extra attention. This young man was no exception. He carried himself with a certain arrogance and a strangely protective air toward her, though his actual performance left much to be desired.

Silvana regarded him with thinning patience. There was something fragile about the moment, something trembling between irritation and hunger. The young man opened his mouth as if to complain, then desire dragged his protest back into his throat.

"Yeah. I want you to do it," he said.

"Then stop talking. I need you quiet until we are done. Got it?"

He nodded once, obedience tripping into compliance. Silvana lowered herself, letting gravity and instinct guide her. In her mind she was already weaving a familiar script, a scene that burned with secret heat. This time Sir Leon would take the lead role in that private theater, though she must make do with the body before her, shaping him into the ghost of another man.

***

Ronald slammed his chopsticks onto the table with righteous fury sparkling in his eyes.

"He is such a jerk, seriously. How the hell did he get that successful while I am still stuck here. Total snake. I still cannot believe he turned out that cool. Bastard!"

Leon, Ronald, and Kelly were gathered at a small sushi place, the scent of rice and vinegar drifting like a quiet breeze between them. Ronald, who taught elementary school kids how to run and jump, had been the loudest voice at the table since they sat down. He spoke of an old college friend with fire in his chest and curses shaping his admiration. Though his language was coarse, both Leon and Kelly had heard this same topic more times than they cared to count. Ronald adored the man he insulted.

"Yeah. Seriously a bastard," Leon muttered, the words rough on his tongue.

He was not really cursing the college friend. His mood had already soured long before the first plate of sushi arrived. Something that had happened in his apartment four hours ago still clung to him, a taste he could not wash away. To make matters worse, Kelly seemed distant in a way that was unfamiliar. She barely acknowledged him, her smile tucked somewhere he could not reach.

Leon had no idea what he had done wrong. The thought of Kelly withdrawing for reasons unknown gnawed at him in a silent, unpleasant rhythm. The more he tried to puzzle it out, the more it dragged him downward. So he surrendered.

He rose abruptly from his seat, the movement drawing his friends' attention like startled cats. Before any of them could shape a question, Leon lifted his cigarette pack toward them, his gesture sharp and preemptive. He lit one before his shadow reached the doorway of the shop. The place had no space for smokers, so he stepped out into the night air.

Just before the door swung shut, Leon saw Kelly watching him. Her gaze was a strange fog, neither soft nor harsh, full of something she did not name. It left him adrift. The worst part was that he did not understand what exactly confused him. He had theories, of course, scraps of possible explanations, but he refused to chase them. To hell with it. He did not want to think about anything. He needed emptiness, and the cigarette was his chosen ritual.

Outside, the city breathed with slow indifference. Neon lights flickered across wet pavement as smoke coiled from his lips like a promise that never learned to speak.

Inside, Ronald was already distracted by another subject.

"Did you see her body? Damn she is sexy."

"She is a college student. Look at her. She has books in her hand. Maybe she knows something that keeps things spicy in bed?"

Leon caught the snickering first, a brittle kind of laughter that slithered between cigarette smoke and neon. He exhaled, flicked away the last ember, and turned his head. Two young men were huddled near the corner, whispering about a woman’s body as if the world owed them access to such fantasies. They were the sort who talked big and lived small, pests masquerading as men.

They had said something about a college girl. That alone made his jaw tense. The idea of those fools dissecting a student out loud curdled his mood. Without meaning to, Leon’s eyes narrowed into a warning. It was the closest thing to a growl his expression could manage.

He traced their line of sight, half hoping he was wrong. Half praying their crude attention belonged to some stranger he did not care about. But when he found the focus of their hunger, his heartbeat kicked. Silvana. Of course it was her. His most troublesome and magnetic student, standing with the effortless allure of someone who had no need to pose.

Realization pulled at him in quiet violence. He crushed the cigarette under his boot, not even noticing the sharp rasp of filter and ash. His steps carried him before the decision had been made. Each stride was heavy with an instinct older than reason.

The boys were still mid fantasy.

"Man, she is crazy mon—"

The sentence never finished. Leon’s hand twisted into the collar of one boy, dragging him up while the second friend sputtered in surprise as Leon caught him too.

"Yo what the hell dude?!" one yelped, eyes wide as saucers.