Professor Lucien

Trembling In Hesitation

Lucien Pov

I must say, I did not expect Sofia Carson to be this composed.

I’ve always seen her as the impulsive girl.

But this?

An extremely worried girl—one who looks impaled at the possibility of having my c**k down her throat.

My conscience ripples inside my chest, but I can’t look away from her tear-stricken face. Knees on the floor like the good girl I’ve always wanted to tame her into in my fantasies—filling my head with thoughts of her saliva glistening my c**k rather than her lips.

Her lips are slightly agape.

Her eyes are fixed on mine.

And her dress—f**k. Her dress has drawn down, revealing more of that creamy skin to my eyes. Those sinfully coated red lips part, drawing me in like I’m not already losing myself in those brown eyes.

"Why do you want me to suck your cock."

God.Her voice shakes, but she says it clearly.

I’m hard already. My breath shortens. My hands clench at my sides.

I want to lose control

I’m already hard as steel.

Fuck. I want to uncage my beast and punish that sinful mouth.

How could one say something so filthy, yet look so innocent?

So f*****g naive.

“Why?” I ask again, my voice low, almost a growl. “Because I want to feel your lips wrap around me, perfectly.”

Her eyes widen, flickering with something between shock and unmistakable disgust.

It hits me like a slap—sharp. For a second, I can’t breathe. That look in her eyes wasn’t confusion or hesitation. It was rejection.

I clench my jaw, pulse pounding against my temple.

And yet, some twisted part of me still wants her—wants to push past that disgust and break whatever line she’s trying to draw between us.

"You’re repulsed by the idea of having my c**k buried between those lips of yours."

She shudders. God, this girl is about to lose her sanity.

I push again. "Disgusted by the thought of my hot c*m jerking down your throat?"

She gasps, eyes wide like she’s staring at a madman.

"God—what is wrong with you? You’re a professor. You’re not supposed to speak to a student like this. It’s so wrong." She glares at me.

I smile, unable to stop myself at her lecture. "Coming from someone who just broke into my office to steal an answer booklet—is that ethical?"

Her body stiffens. Anger flares through her posture, sharp and hot.

"That’s completely two different things," she snaps.

I should stop. I know I should. But I just can’t—not when her chest is heaving, rising and falling in a rhythm that drives my imagination wild.

"Is it?" I raise a brow.

"Yes!"

"How?" I hold her gaze, daring her to defend herself. God, I haven’t wanted anyone this badly in years. That fire behind her eyes…

"You’re about to blackmail me into giving you a blowjob."

Her voice shakes with fury, but her eyes are blazing—daring me to deny it. Everything about her is hopelessly enticing. I never knew someone could look so hot while glaring.

Fuck. My c**k is absorbing every ounce of heat in this room. I’m going to get a blue ball from hell.

"Blackmail? Okay, fine. Let's go back to the park where I caught you walking out of my office with photos of the answer booklet."

She winced, then gulped, avoiding my gaze.

"Maybe I should be a strict professor and report you to the disciplinary committee. I'm sure they won't waste a moment hauling your pretty ass out of college."

Her breath hitches again, sharper this time. The raw vulnerability flashing in her eyes makes my heart beat harder, even if I pretend it doesn’t.

"Don't do that, please," she whimpers.

God. The way the tears roll down her cheeks. Imagine her begging to go fast while I drill into her nuzzled breast.

"I won't if..."

I reach down, grabbing her arms. She stiffens beneath my touch, eyes widening with a flicker of panic.

"What are you doing?" Her voice cracks slightly, not quite a scream—more like a whisper teetering on fear.

Her gaze follows her own fair fingers as I guide them toward the bulge straining against my trousers. She jerks slightly, instinctively trying to pull away, but I hold her there—gently, yet firmly.

Her eyes—God, her eyes—are impossibly wide now. As her hand grazes over my bulging brother through the fabric, I nearly lose control. The contact is maddening. Frustratingly good. Too much and not enough.

“Is that a…? Why is it so… big?” she stammers, voice thin, stunned. Mortified.

I watch her face closely—the way her lips part, slightly trembling, her eyes flickering with disbelief and something else. Something she doesn’t want to name.

I lean in closer, my breath brushing her cheek. “Is it big?” I whisper, husky, low.

She doesn’t answer. Her gaze stays locked on what she’s touching, expression clouded with questions she won’t voice. I press her hand firmer against me, directing her fingers to curl slightly.

Every second sends jolts of need up my spine. I’m burning with it.

Her voice trembles. “Professor Lucien… this is wrong.”

I exhale slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Then tell me to stop.”

She looks up at me, her eyes dancing in hesitation, the heat of her skin beneath my fingers—every inch of her resistance only fuels the fire inside me. This line between control and surrender is razor-thin. Part of me wants to break through her walls, to own this moment completely. But another part—the part I barely acknowledge—knows I have to tread carefully. She’s fragile, and I’m the one pulling the strings.

Still, that desperate, raw need coils tighter in my chest. I want her to want this—even if she won’t admit it. Or maybe I won’t admit it, knowing fully well she doesn’t want to be here… not if I hadn’t caught her stealing assessment answers.

“Professor Lucien.”

Her voice wavers, barely above a breath, but her fingers remain on my c**k.

“Sofia,” I groan as she moves her hand, clasping and unclasping around my length.

Was she giving in?

I tilt my head back, the air thick with lust and guilt, ready to lean in closer—

Knock.

A sharp, jarring rap on the door slices through the moment like a blade.

“Professor Lucien? Are you in?”

Sofia flinches violently—as if struck. Her eyes fly open wide, horrified, and before I can react, she yanks her hand away like it’s been burned.

In one blink, she’s gone—bolting from the desk with a gasp, her footsteps frantic. The door swings open, and Professor Miranda barely has time to poke her head in before Sofia shoves past her, running away.