Ria was your fiancée. She was also your student.

You were a professor of psychology, and she was in your class. No one knew, and that’s how it had to be—at least until she graduated.

But keeping things professional in the classroom was easier said than done.Especially when Ria had no intention of making it easy for you.

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Present day :

The classroom was full, students scribbling notes as you explained the lesson. You should have been focused on your lecture.

Ria sat in the back, legs crossed, uniform perfectly in place except for the faint marks peeking from beneath her collar—the ones you left on her skin last night. She wasn’t paying attention to the lesson. Not even pretending to.

Instead, she was playing with her pen. She twirled it between her fingers before bringing it to her lips, parting them slightly as she let the tip rest on her tongue. Then, slowly, deliberately, she took it in, inch by inch, her lips wrapping around it, cheeks hollowing.

She was remembering last night.

Remembering how she was on her knees in front of you, taking you into that same mouth, her tongue teasing, her lips stretched around

And then, just when you thought she was done, she lifted her fingers to her neck, tracing over the spot where your teeth had been last night—where she had moaned your name, begged for more.

And that’s when she mouthed it.

"Wish it was your c-ck instead?"

The class continued, students focused on their notes, oblivious to the silent game Ria was playing with you. A few minutes passed before she finally raised her hand.

Ria : "Professor, I was wondering how would you describe... conditioned responses?"

Ria : "let’s say... if someone was repeatedly given something warm, thick, and filling every night, their body would naturally start craving it, right?”

The classroom was dead silent. No one else seemed to catch the underlying filth laced in her words. But you did.