Hello my dearies
The spiciness gets even spicy 🔥
Smut scenes will be on third pov
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The morning pressed against the tall leaded windows of the college library like a sultry breath, heavy and humming, yet inside the narrow side-lecture room the air felt tighter, older, laced with dust and the hush of abandoned shelves.
Ji-woo arrived ten minutes after the hour, jacket slung over one shoulder, monogrammed cuff glinting when he shut the frosted glass door.
Elena stood at the chipped oak table, fingers drumming an soundless command on a stack of Milton essays.
Her charcoal pencil skirt and white silk blouse were pristine, the collar buttoned high enough to score the soft skin beneath her jaw skin, Ji-woo studied it while offering an unhurried smile.
"Apologies, Profesora," he said,voice pitched low, confident.
"Traffic of the purely capitalist variety."
She did not answer at once.
Instead, cool gray eyes flicked to the wall clock, its second hand stuttering through the silence.
"Sit. We have forty-five minutes before faculty meeting." Her tone might have frozen lesser students; Ji-woo only pulled out the chair opposite hers, turning it so the back pressed against the table's edge.
He swung one long leg over the seat and straddled it, arms folding across the chair's spine, watching her with lazy interest.
Elena smelled of dry paper and something faintly metallic...the library's old books.
Ji-woo smelled of bergamot and money, cologne warming against his throat.
She cleared her throat, uncapped her fountain pen.
"Your thesis on modern patronage lacks focus.
I circled passages that wander."
She flipped the essay toward him, but her wrist trembled almost imperceptibly.
He noticed. He noticed everything.
Instead of accepting the pages, Ji-woo brushed the back of her hand with his knuckles...just once, light as a bookmark drifting to the floor.
"Perhaps focus isn't what I'm after."
Her spine stiffened.
"Then you'll fail, Mr. Han."
"Is that what you want?" His smile crinkled the corners of obsidian eyes.
"To watch me fail?"
Heat climbed her throat; she willed it back.
"I want you to learn. Nothing else."
Ji-woo leaned forward, the chair creaking. Through parted lips he studied the fine tension drawing her mouth tight, the way her breath pinched.
"Nothing else," he echoed, but the words sounded filthy in his mouth, as though he'd already licked them wet.
He stood, chair rasping over tile, and circled around her until only inches separated his chest from her shoulder.
Elena's pulse flickered beneath the collar she'd buttoned like armor.
When she felt his gaze, she pivoted, prepared to dismiss him with an icy command, but the movement brought her face flush with his.
Their breaths crossed...his steady, hers fractured.
"Back to your seat," she whispered.
Ji-woo answered by cupping her chin, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, "and I will." His voice roughened, the courteous heir stripped to raw intent.
The room ticked around them...old pipes, distant cough of a librarian's chair, the rustle of centuries.
Elena's lips parted; no sound left them. Triumph flared bright behind his sternum.
He sealed his mouth over hers, not tentative, not sweet...a forced covenant, tongue sliding between startled lips with stroking insistence.
She tasted of coffee and shock.
Her palms pressed to his chest, pushing, fingers fisting worsted wool yet unable to shove.
A whimper...half denial, half fracture...vibrated into his kiss.
He drew back barely enough to speak.
"Still want me to sit down?"
Elena glared, cheeks blooming crimson. "You're...my student."
"Today I'm just a man who sees exactly what you need."
There it was: the tremor she couldn't govern stealing down her thighs.
He caught it, palms smoothing over her hips to grip, thumbs drawing half-moons against gray fabric.
She expected another kiss; instead he lowered his face to the curve where shoulder became throat.
Breath scalding, he tasted her, an open-mouthed kiss followed by the scrape of teeth, then the soothing lap of tongue over warmed skin.
Elena's head angled back, hair unpinned by his knuckles so strands spilled dark against his cheek.
"Ji-woo..." His name broke, iced and cracking.
He loved hearing it broken.
He lifted her in one effortless motion, setting her atop the table. Essays fluttered to the dusty floor.
With one swipe he cleared the space, books thudding like distant doors closing.
He stepped between her knees, palms running the outside of her thighs, pushing the skirt until hem bunched at her hips.
Cool air kissed her stockings; higher, the damp panel of lace clung to her slit.
Elena's thighs tried to close, he slid his hand under silk, fingers hooking the waistband of her underwear, drawing it down until lace snagged at her knees.
She bit back a gasp, mortified and electrified.
He looked, no apology, only dark appreciation.
"Been thinking about this cunt since the first lecture."
His crude syllables ricocheted through her ribs.
She hated how the vulgarity slicked her further.
Ji-woo pressed two fingers to her folds, gliding through gathering wetness before pushing inside.
A thick, deliberate invasion that bowed her spine.
He curled, stroking the upper wall where nerves sparked white.
Elena's shoes slipped off, heels striking the floor like punctuation.
She clutched his shoulders, nails scoring through cotton.
He pumped again, then a third time...measured, owning, while his thumb circled the hood of her clit with irritating patience.
Her hips jerked, chasing, mind shredding every policy she'd memorized.
"Feels like punishing you and praising you at once," he rasped against her ear.
"Tell me which it is."
She couldn't.
A moan slipped, shamefully loud in the hush.
Ji-woo drank it, swallowing the sound with another kiss...this one slower, savoring the way her tongue now met his, hesitant but hungry.
While he kissed her, he worked her open, adding a third finger, stretching her around the thick intrusion until her juices slicked his palm, dripped to the tabletop.
Orgasm coiled, a tightening spring. He felt it, her cunt fluttering, thighs quivering.
He stopped.
Elena blinked, dazed. A blush scorched from her collarbone to hairline.
She glanced toward the door.
He yanked her forward, guiding her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips. One arm braced her ass; with the other he unbuckled, unzipped.
The sound ripped through the quiet like tearing lecture notes.
Hunger roared in Elena's ears: the illicit knowledge that this...this was happening where any colleague might walk by.
Ji-woo freed himself, cock heavy, veins ridged along the shaft.
Its head darkened, slick already with pre-cum.
He angled, coating himself in her wetness, then paused at her entrance, savoring resistance dissolving into heady expectation.
"Last chance, professor," he taunted softly.
Elena's answer was to sink her teeth into his lower lip ,hard, drawing copper.
He groaned; it became a laugh, rough and triumphant.
He thrust in one brutal snap, hilting to the root.
Air punched from both lungs.
Her inner walls clenched him, a velvet vice he felt in the soles of his feet.
He drew back slowly, watching relief and hunger war across her face, then slammed forward again, repeating the stroke until rhythm grew, steady and punishing.
The table rocked beneath them, a dry hinge groaning in cynical accompaniment.
Ji-woo folded Elena closer, hiking one of her knees over his forearm to open her deeper, each drive striking the mouth of her cervix and flaring bright hurt-pleasure behind her eyes.
His mouth found her armpit as her blouse rode up, an unspoken fetish revealed in the moment.
Breath scorched the delicate hollow; he licked a stripe upward, tasting salt, soap, and something feral.
Elena gasped, quivering violently, fingers threading his hair.
"Ji-woo...someone..."
"They'll hear," he growled against damp skin, pace unflagging.
"Let them." He pistoned harder, the wet slap of their joining echoing off varnished shelves.
Pressure mounted, a coiling fist in her gut. She bit his shoulder to muffle cries, tasting cotton, heat, man.
Each thrust shoved air from her lungs until she balanced on the precipice of breath and black stars.
He snaked a hand between them, thumb grinding her clit in tight circles.
"Cum on my dick," he ordered, voice thick, rich-boy veneer cracked raw.
"Show me how you cum."
The command snapped her.
Pleasure crashed
..white, obliterating.
Elena's pussy contracted in furious waves, milking him, her scream muffled against his shirt.
Ji-woo followed with two savage jerks, burying deep, spilling in hot jets that pulsed against her cervix.
He groaned her name like ownership, hips stuttering until the last shudder passed.
Stillness folded around them, broken only by their staggered breathing, the tick of the clock they'd ignored.
He stayed inside her a long moment, softening, forehead pressed to hers. Gradually the library's chill reasserted itself, a librarian's chair squeaked somewhere distant, and reality..policies, consequences edged back into Elena's vision like closing brackets.
Ji-woo eased out, tucked himself away, eyes never leaving her face.
Her skirt fell; lace pooled at an ankle.
She smoothed hair, blouse, dignity...none fit the same.
Wordless, he bent, retrieving her underwear, sliding it up her legs with gallant care that mocked them both.
When he straightened, he brushed a thumb over her swollen lower lip and whispered, "Same time tomorrow?"
Elena found her voice, hoarse, unsteady. "Go to hell."
AN:-
Well professor Elena is 🔥
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