FILTHY ETHNICS: THE PROFESSOR'S OBSESSION

Chapter 2

LUNA’S POV

Dr. Elliott stepped onto the stage while my fingers were still buried deep inside myself. The VIP room spun around me, and the hazy purple lights blurred the faces of the men watching from the shadows, cigars forgotten in their hands. My body was slick with sweat, my core clenched around nothing, and my juice dripped down my thighs like a traitor, but my mind screamed,

"Run!

This couldn’t be real. My ethics professor, the man whose voice alone made me tremble in class, was here, in this den of sin, looking at me like I was prey he’d been stalking for months. He didn’t hesitate. One hand grabbed my wrist, yanking my fingers out of my cunt with a wet pop that echoed too loud.

I gasped as he slammed me chest-first against the pole, the cold metal biting into my n*****s through the harness. My body bent involuntarily, submitting to him.

"What the f**k"

I started, but his knee pushed between my legs, spreading me wide and grinding hard against my c**t and balls until I cried out.

"Shut up, Nyx," he growled, his voice low and threatening, his hot breath on my neck. No one had ever used my stage name like that before an insult and a claim. His free hand tore the straps off the harness, exposing my chest. His fingers pinched my n****e so hard I bucked, a shock of pain and pleasure flooding through me.

"Or should I say Luna? The perfect little student who can’t look me in the eye during class, but here you are, fingering yourself like a desperate slut, asking strangers to watch."

My face burned with humiliation. How did he know? The heat in my stomach spiraled into panic. I tried to turn away, but he held me tighter, his erection pressing against my ass through his trousers.

It was thick and hard. Oh my god, it felt enormous.

"Professor, please"

"Shut your mouth."

Three veined fingers forced into my mouth, stretching my lips wide.

"Get out of here."

"Like you mean it."

I obeyed without thinking, swirling my tongue around his fingers, tasting salt and smoke, drool running down my chin as he pushed them deeper, making me gag a little. The crowd murmured, excited, some openly stroking themselves. I felt humiliation and arousal collide inside me.

My p***y clenched desperately, aching for what was coming next. He pulled his fingers from my mouth, leaving me wet and trembling, then, without warning, pushed them between my cheeks. Two fingers scissored brutally, curling to hit my G-spot on the first thrust. I yelped and jerked back onto them.

The pain quickly turned into electric pleasure.

"So f*****g tight," he muttered hoarsely.

"Have you been dreaming of this? Ruining your pretty p***y while you squirm in my class?"

I couldn’t say no. As he finger-f****d me harder, memories flooded my mind growing up in a battered caravan park on the edge of town, with a mother who drank too much and a father drowning in debt and rage. I’d fought hard to get scholarships to Eldridge, but the rising costs were crushing.

I’d started waiting tables, then stripping at smaller clubs, until Marcus found me for Inferno. The money was dirty, but it paid the bills. And the rush? It fed something dark inside me the power of being wanted, even if it wasn’t real. Elliott’s third finger pushed in deeper, bringing tears to my eyes.

I moaned, my body greedily accepting his invasion.

"Please," I begged, voice breaking. The thong was soaked, my arousal leaking steadily. He turned me around, pressing me back against the pole, yanking the thong down my thighs until it caught at my ankles.

My p***y red, and dripping was exposed. Elliott’s eyes darkened as he dipped two of his fingers into it possessively.

Rough strokes, thumb circling the c**t.

"Beg like a good slut."

"Please, Professor, f**k me."

Words spilling out like a confession, shame and need tangled together. He released his c**k, massive, veined, heavy, curving with a bead of pre-c*m at the tip. He slapped it against my ass, the wet sound echoing in the room before he pressed into my entrance.

"This p***y is mine now."

With one hard thrust, he buried himself balls-deep. I screamed, pain and pleasure merging as the stretch burned fiercely, but he didn’t stop. He kept pounding into me, his hand tightening around my throat just enough to make stars dance behind my eyelids. With each slam, the pole dug into my back, his hips slapping against my ass.

"Take it," he growled, his free hand jerking my c**k in time with each thrust. My prostate ached, tears streaming down my face as I moaned and begged, my orgasm building fast. The crowd’s interest heightened, but Elliott’s eyes were only on me possessive, feral.

"Come get your teacher."

I shattered apart, squirting across his suit. My p***y clenched around him desperately, milking him. He grunted, pushing even deeper, filling me with hot spurts that made my insides feel raw and marked forever. He bit my shoulder hard enough to draw blood, whispering,

"Good girl."

We stood there, panting his c**k still inside, my body trembling from the climax. He slowly pulled out and fixed himself, but his hand stayed on my throat, thumb gently stroking my pulse.

"Ten times the fee," he murmured softly, almost tender. "But Luna, this isn’t over."

"You’re coming with me."

The door burst open before I could respond. Jax Rivera stormed in, tattooed and muscular, with that charming grin that always spelled trouble. He was my dance partner. We’d trained together when I was younger, but lately his touches lingered longer, and his eyes had become hungry.

"Luna? What the hell? Marcus said you were in trouble."

"Who’s this jerk?"

Elliott stiffened, his hand dropping to my waist in a possessive grip. Jax’s eyes flicked between us, then landed on the mess of pre-c*m and tears on my thighs. His grin sharpened.

"Damn. Count me next time you share." Jax stepped closer, playfully brushing my arm with his fingers, but Elliott growled,

"Touch her and die."

Tension crackled in the room. Jax chuckled, eyes narrowing.

"Take it easy, big guy."

Jax knew I was capable of handling myself. He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

"You okay? Or do you want me to take care of this?"

I swallowed hard, my body still humming from Elliott’s claim, but Jax’s heat sparked something else, maybe rivalry, maybe more. Marcus appeared at the door, his face tense and angry.

"What the hell is going on?"

You weren't supposed to, Elliott. Elliott's head shot up.

"Supposed to what?"

Marcus turned pale. Oh no. Did they know each other?