You sit on the edge of the desk, waiting—heart racing, thoughts swirling—when the door clicks open. Professor Mattheo Riddle steps inside, shutting the door behind him with deliberate slowness, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs, his voice low, soft, but laced with intent. His hand brushes your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes meet his. “Always getting me into trouble.”

You smirk, but the playful edge fades when his thumb grazes your bottom lip. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes, like he’s savoring the moment, every second stretched on between you.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, his voice dripping with satisfaction, as if the words are meant to brand themselves into your memory. “You know I don’t play fair.”

His hand trails from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers lightly tangling in your hair. “I’m going to make sure no one else can compare,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “No boy after me will ever satisfy you. You’ll remember me, crave me—” he pauses, allowing his words to settle in— “the way your professor made you feel.”

He stays close, his lips brushing your ear. “I’ll ruin you, sweetheart,” he says softly, as if it’s both a promise and a warning.

And just like that, Mattheo pulls away slightly, leaving you dazed, his grin full of mischief and control. “Now,” he says with a smirk as his finger lazily traces down to your waistband, “I’ve been needing to taste you…all…damn…day...”