The city buzzed around me as I walked home, but it felt like I was moving in a haze. Cars honked, distant voices called out, and the occasional bark of a dog echoed down the street; you know how it is, but none of it registered. My body was still hummed with an energy I couldn’t shake, every step a reminder of the tension coiling deep inside me.
Professor Victor Graham. His name alone sent a shiver through me. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, my bag slung over my shoulder and my mind spinning. The air in the hallway was thick and stale, but when I opened my door and stepped inside, it felt no different. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my shoes; I wasn't even the one contemplating my movement. The silence of the apartment only amplified the storm inside me. I leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to my chest as I tried to steady my breathing. My skin was still flushed, heat radiating from my cheeks down to the hollow of my throat. My blouse clung to me in all the wrong places, and my nipples—still embarrassingly hard—attached with a sensitivity I couldn’t ignore. “God, what is wrong with me?” I muttered to myself. My brain was already spinning at this point. But I knew. I knew. My mind replayed every single moment of the lecture, every glance, every word. The way he said my name—Lily—in that deep, commanding voice. The way his dark eyes lingered on me, studying me, unraveling me. The faint curve of his lips when he smiled, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. I could feel myself spiraling, my thoughts traveling into different places I shouldn’t let them go, but I didn’t care. I was just too far gone. I wandered into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator out of habit rather than hunger. The cool air washed over me, but it only made me more aware of how hot I was, how flushed my skin had become. I grabbed a bottle of Coca-Cola and twisted off the cap, drinking deeply as if that would cool the fire raging inside me. It didn’t. I closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the cabinets as my thoughts consumed me. What would it feel like to have him here, standing close enough that I could feel the heat of his body? Would he touch me the way I wanted to be touched, his hands exploring the body no one had ever claimed? The image was so vivid that I dropped the bottle, the thud jolting me back to reality. I cursed under my breath, bending to pick it up, but even that simple motion reminded me of how sensitive I was, how tightly wound every nerve in my body felt. "I need to do something, anything, to shake this off. I needed a distraction. What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Lily?" I said to myself. I turned on the TV, flipping aimlessly through channels, but nothing held my attention. I paced the living room, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to will my body to calm down. But every step, every movement, only brought the memory of him back to the forefront of my mind. His broad shoulders straining against his suit jacket. His hands, large and capable, brushing the edge of the podium. His voice, smooth as velvet, wrapping around me like a caress. My thighs pressed together involuntarily, a desperate attempt to suppress the ache building between them. It didn’t help. After a few minutes of trying to get my mind off it by watching TV, I gave up. Shutting off the TV, I made my way to the bedroom, stripping off my blazer and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. My blouse followed, and I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I unclasped my bra. My nipples were stiff, the pale skin around them flushed pink. I bit my lip, my cheeks burning as I looked away. Sliding out of my skirt, I climbed onto the bed, the cool sheets offering a brief reprieve against my heated skin. But even here, in the quiet sanctuary of my room, I couldn’t escape him. I lay back, staring up at the ceiling as my fingers traced absent patterns along my stomach. I tried to think about anything else, but his image burned into my mind. The way he looked at me during the lecture, the way his lips moved as he spoke—I could see everything over and over again; I could even feel it. My hand slowly drifted lower, brushing over the waistband of my panties, and I gasped at the sensation. The fabric was damp, a physical betrayal of everything I was feeling. “Stop it, Lily,” I whispered, but my fingers didn’t listen. I let my legs fall apart, my breathing shallow as my hand slipped beneath the elastic. The wet heat of my skin shocked me, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. My fingers moved instinctively, exploring the slick folds as a wave of pleasure rippled through me. I pulled my hand on the surface of my pussy, exploring it briefly. In my mind, it wasn’t my hand. It was his. His fingers, strong and confident, teasing me, guiding me. His voice, low and commanding, whispering my name as he leaned over me, his breath hot against my ear. My back arched as I pressed harder, my thighs trembling with the effort to keep still. My other hand gripped the sheets, holding on as the tension in my body built to an unbearable peak. I imagined him pinning me down, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his lips clamped with mine. His hands would explore every inch of me, stripping away my innocence with a touch that left no room for doubt. A whimper escaped me, my body shuddering as the coil of heat inside me finally snapped. The release was overwhelming, leaving me breathless and shaking. I lay there for a long moment, my chest rising and falling as I tried to process what had just happened the whole time. My hand was still wet, my skin still tingling with the aftershocks of something I didn’t fully understand. "What was I doing?" "I rolled onto my side, clutching a pillow to my chest as guilt began to creep in. He is my professor, for God’s sake. This was wrong. It had to be." But even as I told myself that, I couldn’t shake the memory of his gaze, the way it made me feel like I wasn't the only person in the room. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t the end; it was just the beginning.The strange thing that happened the other time had been sitting in the back of my mind since that moment. I was trying my best to always not think about it, but I couldn’t let it go, and it made me feel the exact same way every time.The syllabus had clearly stated Professor Graham’s office hours. Every lecture was open to all students taking his course, no appointment necessary. But even at that, he was a very respected figure and considered a very strict, no-nonsense person by other students, so he was one of the least-visited professors in the school. But I had to, and this wasn’t even about class—it was for myself.I stood in front of my mirror, brushing my hair for what felt like the hundredth time. My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. The thin sweater I wore hugged my curves just enough without being too obvious. My jeans were fitted but not tight. Casual. Harmless.Except I didn’t feel harmless.I felt like I was walking straight into the lion’s den, and
(Victor's POV)The mornings felt colder lately, though it wasn’t the weather. The chill that had settled in my life had little to do with the seasons and everything to do with Emily.Our marriage had always been built on shared goals, mutual ambition, and the sense that we were moving forward together. But somewhere along the way, we moved from that to not having a real conversation in months.And the intimacy? That had disappeared when she left for the capital. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and it's been six months. That was how long it had been since we’d been together, in every sense of the word.I could still remember the last time. The last time we shared as a couple. The mechanical rhythm, the absence of passion, the way she had rolled over and gone straight to sleep afterward. Even before that? It was seventeen weeks. I know she's not to be fully blamed for it. As a career-inclined person, the hustle and bustle of her job is completely overwhelming.When she’d announce
(Lily's POV) The rain started pouring suddenly, like the cloud couldn't hold it anymore; it didn't even leave a sign that it was going to happen. The water was dropping so heavily, and I stood drenched in the lobby, rainwater pooling around my feet as the storm outside seemed to seep into the very space around me, the sound of raindrops pounding against the roof and walls a deafening accompaniment to my own ragged breathing. The water around my feet was so cold that I was starting to shiver, and my legs, exposed to the cold rainwater, made my body give a cold shock response, which started to make me have goosebumps, and the heavier the rain gets, the colder its water is. The day was supposed to be quite a good day. But then there was him who is the actual determiner of it. In class today, he barely looked at me; his eyes kept scanning the whole room like i wasn't even there. "Lily, why does that even bother you?" I asked myself. His job is primarily to lecture us on philosop
(Lily's POV) The rain had finally stopped, but inside my tiny flat, a tempest of emotions had taken its place. Still wet, my clothes clung to me like a second skin, serving as a memory of the rainstorm that had brought Victor to my doorstep. His jacket, still with me, now hung over a chair, was a tangible piece of him in my space, its scent a cocktail of sandalwood and something uniquely Victor, stirring a forbidden warmth in me. I still do not know how he outrightly knew my house address, but that's even less of my worries right now. I made my way to the bathroom, showered, letting the hot water attempt to wash away the chill which I know wasn't just from the rain but from the intensity of Victor's gaze, the brief touch of his hand. Standing beneath the hot stream of water, every minute we spent together flashed through my mind. I recall his sparkling eyes, his gentle, caring hand on mine, and his breathtaking grin. I sat on the edge of my bed, wrapped in a robe, the quiet outside
(Lily's POV)Sophie and I made our exit from my place with the door having that kind of finality that denotes something unfinished business. The cool air of the night contrasted sharply with the warmth Victor's presence had left upon my skin. We walked to the library under a silence falling upon campus, bedecked with street lights. Sophie was silent, but I could feel her curiosity - like a soft hum in the background. We squatted into our study spot, surrounded by the books, but the mind was in my apartment, with Victor. I could hardly fix my attention on my notes, for they all began to blur together. Victor's jacket weighed too heavily in my bag - a secret I was not prepared to share. Sophie was busy on her laptop, but I could see eye glances darting towards me occasionally - a subtle look of concern- curiosity.I knew that the silence was pregnant. I tried to ease the weight of it with idle talk about our projects, but she still resisted. "You
(Lily's POV)The day passed by like a swiftly flowing river. Classes, lectures were nothing but echoes in my head: they were clearly not the keepers of my mind locked on the recollection of Victor, the jacket in my bag like a secret waiting to be told. I had steered clear of the early morning and had rather planned to come during late afternoons when his office hours would be less crowded so that we might snatch a moment that was truly ours.Taking a rushed lunch with an unquenched appetite, it tasted like ashes in my mouth because my thoughts were pre-occupied with what was going to happen. The hustle in the campus was quiet now as students were either leaving for the day or lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the storm inside.Every step I took resonated as a drumbeat-within him echoing my commotion. Victor's door was ajar, inviting or perhaps warning. I knocked, and my heart thudded with the noise in my chest."Come in," his voice, always the most haughty, now bore a tone of war
(Lily's POV)The sun was too bright this morning, as if somehow it had conspired with the whole universe to expose everything about me-the incidences that could well be buried in the depths of my heart. Its relentless beams streamed through the curtains and thrust into the perfect surrounding of my defenselessness, penetrating into the turmoil that was brewing within. I lay in bed tied down, remembering the kiss of Victor. It was not only the stamp of his kiss that seemed to haunt me; rather, it was the way he had lingered, how his scent now clung to me with promises forbidden, that I could not strip away. Every inhalation was another reminder of his phantom presence on my soul, creating sensations that hurt as much as they soothed.Every ounce of strength needed to push me out of bed. Each step felt heavier, infused by my thoughts. Dressing, for me, became a needless ritual of defiance: as if by getting donned in an outfit just right, it would keep me safe from my desires. I chose c
(Lily's POV)Answering the letters of the campus was loud as ever: shuffling feet of hurried students trying to make it to class, muffled sounds of friends gossiping and sometimes far-off shouting and cheering from a sports field. But every one of those sounds became an echo of my paranoia growing. All laughter seemed too knowing, all glances seemed a bit too long, and every whisper carried some hint of my secret-the secret kept inside me to torment me with a thousand fires.Victor.I felt my body tremble even at the thought of his name. It lay thumping within me, my heart, and it hasn't stopped since the very moment that changed almost everything. I passed through all that crowd filled with students, feeling like some spotlights were trained on me wherever I went, looking all around me for any telltale signs that someone knew. Did they notice how I looked at him? Probably even how he looked at me?By the time I'd reached the library, my nerves had gone absolutely. From the comforting
(Lily's POV)The first thing I was conscious of was the heat when I woke up. The warmth of his body pressing against mine, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. His arm was a weight, spread across my waist, holding me down, his breath slow and deep against my neck. His smell—woody, male, with the musk of last night—surrounded me, soaking into my skin.I was aware of a dull ache spreading through me, a reminder of just how thoroughly he had taken me, possessed me, made his way through me in a way that still did not feel possible. My thighs clenched together around the dull soreness between them, at the raw, tender proof of every kiss, every touch, every sound he had drawn from me. I shivered, just a little, and his arm tightened, pulling me closer.There was a low rumble in his chest, a sleepy noise that sent a shiver of heat down my spine. His fingers moved against my belly, skin against skin, sleepy and possessive even while he's asleep. I didn't stir, letting my fin
Lily's POVThe air was thick with heat, the stench of sex lingering between us. My skin still tingled from his hands, from the way he had devoured me so completely on that couch. But as I leaned back against his chest, my body against his, my need for him didn't fade—it grew.Victor was beside me, his arm across my waist, his fingers tracing up and down my back in a slow, lazy rhythm. His breathing was deep and controlled, but I could feel it—the tension coiling inside him, even with the way his body had released after everything we'd done.I leaned my head back slightly, looking at him in the shadows. His face was lifted up to the ceiling, his jaw clean-cut, his lips parted ever so slightly. God, he was beautiful. And he was mine—at least for tonight.I grinned slowly as I stepped forward, allowing my hands to glide over his chest, tracing the bulging muscles beneath my fingertips. His skin felt so hot, his body so strong, and I wanted him to shatter apart once more."Lily…" His tone
He propelled his upper body forward, pulling mine closer at the same time, so our lips brushed against eachother, his breath warm, teasing, as another wave of anticipation washed over my already trembling body.He changed his grip, more this time—his arms strong, uncompromising—his body pushed hard against mine, the heat of his naked flesh inflaming me.And then—oh, my God fuckk—he was inside me. Slowly, slowlyA searing gasp tore from my lips as the broad head of his cock stretched me open, inch by agonizing inch. My nails dug into his shoulders, my head falling back as he pressed in deeper, filling me so completely it was almost too much.Victor groaned, his forehead falling to mine, his breaths deep, ragged."Fuck, Lily…" His voice was rough, strained, like he was trying very hard to hold himself together, and force the words out.My legs tightened around his waist, pulling him in, insisting he go deeper."Ohh my god... deeper," I moaned, my mouth brushing against his. "I want all
His tongue caressed against the soaked fabric of my panties, slow, seductive, a searing flash of pleasure shot straight into the core of my existence.I gasped, my legs trembling as I tried to stay still, but it was useless. The movement of his mouth—slow, deliberate, savoring—had me wriggling beneath him."Victor—" My voice was rough, needy, barely a whisper.He groaned softly, his fingers biting into my thighs."See how you are," he whispered, his lips tracing the wet lace. "Already soo wet for me."A whimper escaped me.He pressed his lips to me again, this time harder, his tongue pushing against the thin fabric, rubbing slowly, brutally in circles around where I hurt worst.My hips lifted of their own accord, wanting more friction, more pressure—more of him.He pulled back an inch, his dark eyes fixed on mine."You want more?" His voice was low, gravelly, thick with need.I nodded frantically, my chest heaving and falling with shallow, desperate breaths.Victor smiled.Then, in sl
(Lily's POV)His mouth kissed mine, slow and gentle, the warmth of his breath spreading over my skin. The kiss was passionate, perfect, not rushed—like he was savoring each instant, every angle of my lips against his. I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck, holding him tight, closer, craving more.And then his tongue brushed against mine, teasing, tempting me to open. I did. And the moment I did, the kiss grew hotter, deeper. His hand cradled my jaw, tilting my face just the way he needed as his tongue slid in, claiming, searching.A shiver went down my spine. My fingers tingled on his chest, wanting to touch more of him. I inched slowly, following my hand down his body, feeling the rigid muscles beneath his shirt. My palm rested against his abs, warmth seeping through the fabric, and I couldn't resist.I tugged on his shirt, yanking it up, needing the touch of his skin against mine. He hummed low on my lips, his muscles tensing beneath my fingers as I ran my hands over his
(Lily's POV)Victor's thumb tracing my pulse, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent a shiver coursing down my spine, the "I do" a warm ember in the dense hush of his apartment. The door shut behind us, sealing the world out, and the air hummed, heavy with his presence—his eyes, dark and molten, mapping over me, the red crop top hugging my curves, the jeans low on my hips. His fingers lay on the back of my neck, a gentle hold tilting my head back, and I gazed up at him, choking in the heat there—hunger, yes, but something else, a tenderness that wrapped around my heart and held on.“You wore red,” he said again like he didn't just say it earlier, voice low, a velvet thread weaving through me. His hand slid up, cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing my lower lip, parting it just enough to make me tremble.My breath snagged, a little catch, and he smiled—slow, annihilating, the kind that illuminated me. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispered, his warm breath on my cheek, his admiss
(Lily's POV)Monday evening hung over me like a dark blanket, the clock on my desk ticking, it's just 7:00 p.m. I sat on my bed, crossed my legs, the room dark except for the phone lighting up in my lap.Victor's message this morning flashed in my brain again— "My place tonight, 8. Don't be late." My flesh crawled, a persistent buzzing coiled in my chest. The weekend stretched out behind me, a jumbled knot of sleep and evasion, each passing minute drawing me back to him, where I want to be.Friday night replayed him my head, every detail—his bed, his hands, how he'd wrecked me to the bone, left me raw, stretched out on his sheets. He'd brought me school afterwards, the blue dress, nice and beautiful, his fingernail scratches burning my back, and I'd stumbled in, too wrecked to think. My phone buzzed as I fell onto the pillow—Victor, probably—but exhaustion hit me before I could see.Saturday MorningI was conscious of the pain the moment I woke up. A low, slow throb in my body, the ki
(Emily's POV)The alarm woke me up to the darkness in my room at 5:45 a.m., a sudden shriek that yanked me from bed, sheets knotted around my ankles like a net, not even neatly made before I slept last night. My fingers flew across the nightstand, before I finally reached for my phone, silencing the alarm. Tired, I stood up to turn the my bulb on, it's Monday.My stomach growled—a low, slow, insistent rumble that hit before I could even successfully walk out of the room. Last night’s Coca-Cola sloshed in my gut, it was even the only thing in my stomach after hours spent last night—driving slowly, aimlessly and parking for fresh air at irregular intervals. The city’s neon lights still flickered behind my eyes, a restless hum that refused to fade. No dinner. No time. Just happy I had last night the way I wanted to.Out of my room, the apartment is still except for the gentle hum of the fridge. Cold air stung my bare legs as I shuffled into the kitchen, blinking against the dark in it. T
Emily's POVThe garage of the hospital was only viewable from my rearview as I drove away slowly, Sophia's sedan just in front of mine, as we have to drive the little way to the main road, immediately out the hospital's gate.She whined her window down, gave a little beautiful smile, while waving her hand before hand before drifting into the road. The time is just a little past 5:00 p.m. on a calm Sunday evening. The city was not so lively, just a dull, blur atmosphere, streetlights buzzing to life. Tires screeched on wet pavement as cars kept moving, the weekend's restless thrum still resonating in my chest.My thoughts went back to their usual state, Three months, and Mark J. Kennedy is not where to be found, no calls, his doesn't even go through either, nobody that I know him with that I can reach—all the thoughts, just making my temper unstable. But Sophia's energy stuck with me, her "Next Saturday's wild" hanging in on that morning, Johnson's name is something I'm going to hear