PROFESSOR SIN

PROFESSOR'S BLACK POV

Her voice still echoed in my head.

"I'm yours."

Those words from her lips were not a confession, they were a surrender.

I moved closer, closing the space between us, watching her stiffen against the polished wood of my desk. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air, but her shallow breaths filled it with something heavier.

Her hands clutched her skirt, knuckles pale, yet her chin lifted just slightly, daring me. Or maybe begging.

"You're mine?" I asked, my tone low, sharp. I wanted to hear her say it again.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but her eyes didn't waver. "Yes... I'm yours."

The corner of my mouth curved. Brave girl.

I leaned down, letting my shadow swallow her, the scent of her shampoo reaching me. My lips hovered close enough to feel the warmth of her cheek. I didn't kiss her. I didn't touch her. My restraint was deliberate, torturous.

"Then prove it," I whispered, letting my words cut through her like a blade.

Her lashes fluttered. "H..how?"

I sat back in my chair, tilting my head as though considering the question. My fingers tapped once on the desk, slow, deliberate. Then I let my gaze fall to her thighs, covered by the edge of her skirt.

"Take off your panties," I said flatly.

The silence that followed was delicious.

Her lips parted, a sharp gasp escaping. Her whole body trembled, and I watched the battle rage across her face. Shock. Embarrassment. A shameful spark of curiosity.

"Professor..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Did you not say you're mine?" I asked, voice low, commanding. "Then give me what belongs to me."

Her breathing turned shallow, and her trembling fingers reached for the hem of her skirt. Hesitant. Shy.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, watching without blinking. The weight of my stare forced her to obey. She shifted, legs pressing tightly together as though trying to shield herself. That small resistance only made me harder inside, though I didn't move.

With trembling hands, she slid her panties down .. Interesting ,black lace, delicate and held them out to me with shaking fingers. Her face burned crimson shy and she couldn't meet my eyes.

"Good girl," I murmured, taking them from her hand, letting my fingers graze her palm just barely.

The fabric was warm. Damp. My jaw clenched.

I twirled the lace around my finger, watching her shift uncomfortably as the realization of her own arousal sank in.

"You're wet," I said, not as an observation but as a verdict.

Her head jerked up, eyes wide, lips parting as though to deny it but I raised a brow. She closed her mouth again, cheeks burning hotter.

I stood, moving around the desk until I was directly in front of her. Slowly, deliberately, I leaned in, my lips near her ear.

"Do you know what that means, little dove?" I whispered, my voice gravelly.

She shivered violently, her knees pressing together.

"It means your body craves me more than your mind dares admit," I continued, dragging the words across her skin like a blade. "Even when I don't touch you... you're already mine."

Her breath caught, a soft whimper escaping her throat before she could stop it.

My smirk deepened.

I could take her now. Bend her over my desk, bury myself inside her trembling body, and make her scream until she forgot her own name. She was ready. Desperate.

But that would be mercy.

I wanted cruelty.

So I leaned back, slipping her panties into my pocket with deliberate calm. Her eyes followed the movement, confusion mixing with desperation.

"You think offering yourself is enough?" I asked coldly, looking down at her trembling figure. "Obedience is only the beginning."

Her lips parted, her voice hoarse. "Please..."

The sound twisted something in me. The plea, the hunger .. and yet, I refused to give her what she begged for.

Instead, I placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face upward, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes were wide, glassy, pleading.

"You'll learn something very important about me, Amara," I murmured, my thumb grazing her jaw gently but never her lips. "I don't reward desire. I control it. And I decide when you're worthy."

Her lashes trembled. A soft, involuntary whimper slipped from her throat, breaking the silence like a fragile secret.

I released her chin abruptly, stepping back.

Her body sagged against the desk, like I had stolen the very air from her lungs.

"You may go," I said firmly, smoothing my cuffs as though she was nothing more than a distraction.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Leave." My tone cut like a whip.

She froze, as though waiting for me to take it back. Waiting for me to pull her against me, to finally break the tension. But I didn't move. I only stared, my expression unreadable, my body burning inside though I'd never let her see.

Finally, she swallowed hard, her trembling legs carrying her to the door. Each step looked heavy, reluctant, as though she was leaving a piece of herself behind in the room.

Her hand hovered on the doorknob before she looked back at me one last time. Her lips trembled, her eyes glazed with humiliation, with hunger.

I leaned back in my chair, smirking.

"Go," I said again, softer this time, but no less commanding.

Her shoulders dropped in defeat. She opened the door and slipped out, her body quaking.

The silence that followed was intoxicating.

I pulled her panties from my pocket, twirling them slowly between my fingers, and let out a low chuckle.

She would come back. They always did.

But this one... this one was already addicted.