Filthy Surrender: The Forbidden Files

Chapter One –

Avena's POV

I had always thought about what it would feel like to have Professional Noah D’Artagnan’s cock inside of me.

He was way older, but I mean, who cared?

I know I didn't.

Judging from the strain in his tailored pants, he was HUGE.

No, I was not exaggerating and yes, I was currently staring as he paced the platform, trying to explain something I wasn't even paying attention to.

The fabric stretched over his thigh with every step he took, and the outline of his shaft pressed against the dark wool like it was demanding to be freed.

Oh what I'd do just to get a chance to free it.

I bit my lower lip hard and felt a pulse between my legs that had nothing to do with my heartbeat.

Three years.

It had been three years of watching his recorded lectures in my dorm, headphones on, and hand shoved down my pajama bottoms, imagining his low and commanding rumble of a voice, ordering me to touch myself.

I had come to the sound of his name more times than I could count. And now he was right there, silver at his temples, and dark eyes scanning the room like he owned every inch of this university.

The same way I wanted him to own every inch of my body.

He was not only older, but he was seasoned and the kind of handsome that didn't need youth to burn.

I was too lost in my thoughts that I didn't even realize that he had caught me staring. His gaze locked onto mine and the lecture notes in his hand dropped to the podium.

His lips curved into something that was barely a smile and I felt my breath hitch, and my thighs clenched so tight a damp heat spread through my panties.

The man fucking knew.

He knew I'd been watching him, wanting him, and imagining his hands on my body.

The worst part?

He wasn't looking away.

I forced my gaze away, looking everywhere else but at him as he went on with the lecture. The rest of the class was a blur and I couldn't tell you a single word he said.

I just sat there, soaked, trying to steady my breathing while my cunt throbbed in time with his footsteps.

Then when the lecture ended, I tried to slip out with the crowd. I was almost at the door, a sigh of relief escaping my lips when his voice cut through the chatter like a blade.

“Ms. Thomas. A moment, please”.

I froze.

Students shuffled past me, some glancing back with curiosity. After taking a deep breath, I swallowed and turned slowly. He was standing behind his desk, arms crossed, with that same predatory look fixed on me.

I walked towards him, legs unsteady while my heart slammed against my ribs. I stopped in front of his desk but he waited until the door clicked shut.

“My office. Now”.

Then he walked out of the class first and I trailed far behind, heart still slamming against my ribs.

When I entered, I found him already sitting. His gaze was fixed on me as I approached his desk steadily.

Then he lowered his gaze to a folder on his desk. It had my name—Avena Thomas, boldly written on it.

My academic file, I realized.

He picked it up, flipped it open, then scanned the pages, and let the silence stretch.

“Avena Thomas”. My name in his mouth made my stomach flip. “Your previous semester's grades are… concerning”.

His voice was a low rumble, the same one that had made me come in the dark of my room.

He looked up with those dark eyes. I was pinned in place by them. “I've reviewed your transcripts. Your potential is clear, but your performance has dropped significantly”.

He set the folder down and stood, moving around the desk until he was towering over me. The scent of his cologne—wood and something strong, filled my lungs.

“We'll need regular meetings. I'll be assigned as your academic supervisor”. He said and his hand brushed my arm lightly. I shivered. “Effective immediately”.